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Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd - A Lambert R.

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152 pages

English

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Description

A chance encounter with a mysterious stranger spells the end of a life of routine detective work for Senior Sergeant Luke Tobias and propels him into a world of international intrigue. As the events surrounding an ancient prophecy continue to unfold, Tobias is forced to leave behind the relative comfort of a settled existence in Australia. This trail leads him to confront the agents of a power shrouded in secrecy for over two millennia, whose aim is nothing less than world domination.

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Thriller

Informations

Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
Date de parution	29 novembre 2019
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781528962902
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0175€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

The Third Message
R. A. Lambert
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-11-29
The Third Message About The Author Dedication Copyright Information © Pre-Prologue Prologue St Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City, 1640 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27
About The Author
R. A. Lambert is a retired police officer who lives in the quaint seaside town of Goolwa in regional South Australia. A rolling stone by birth, he spent his childhood travelling the world with his father in the foreign service. He graduated from secondary school in Maryland, USA, and after a few years moved to outback Australia. This work reflects his deep interest in the subjects of biblical prophecy and biblical archaeology, combined with his experience in the police force and emergency services.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all those who seek the truth and are hoping for a bright and lasting future, and to my special furry friend, Gizmo, for his unwavering support and kind company.
Copyright Information ©
R. A. Lambert (2019)
The right of R. A. Lambert to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788484718 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528962902 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Pre-Prologue
“And the third angel followed them, saying in a loud voice, ’If any man worships the beast and its image and receives its mark on his forehead, or on his hand, the same shall drink the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out without mixture into the cup of his indignation; and he shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb and the smoke of their torment ascends up forever and ever. They will have no rest, day nor night, who worship the beast and its image and whosoever receives the mark of its name.”
‘Here is a call for wisdom. Let him that has understanding count the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man, and its number is 666.’
Revelation 14: 9-11, 13:18
Prologue

St Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City, 1640
Captain Arnaud Hodel paced nervously under the great dome. The battle-scarred Swiss Guard veteran of twelve campaigns feared no man, but the one on whom he waited was no ordinary man. The eerie silence seemed to exacerbate the endless noise inside his head, the price paid for standing too close to myriad cannon in one fight too many. He felt tired, the kind of tiredness that sleep can’t remedy and yet he longed for sleep; continuous, unbroken, uninterrupted sleep. A glimmer of light reflecting from Michelangelo’s Pieta caught his attention. As he stared into the eyes of the marble Madonna, the burden that hung deep inside his chest seemed to momentarily dissipate into the formless ether.
“It is truly a marvellous thing is it not Captain?” Hodel’s immediate reaction to the sound of his master’s voice was to genuflect deeply. He then lifted his head in order to kiss the ring on the outstretched hand. “How may I serve you, Holiness?”
"I have summoned you here for the most gravest of purposes, Captain. The heretic Helwig’s accusations have caused murmurings in the populace and we must do all we can to quell the storm caused by his blasphemous lies.
“I trust no one but you with this quest.”
“I am at your service as always, Holy Father.”
Pope Urban VIII reached inside his robe and produced a muslin bag. He paused momentarily before handing it to the weary soldier. Hodel noticed that it contained something that felt metallic and bore the shape of a small crown.
“What is your will, Holiness?” asked Hodel, restraining the urge to enquire as to the content of the sack.
“Do you know what it is that you hold, Captain?”
“No sire, and I pray you do not tell me. If I am ignorant of it, then I will be able to carry out whatever it is that you ask of me in good conscience and without fear of deceit.”
“Then receive this charge with my gratitude. You are to keep the parcel in your possession until either me or my successor reclaims it. You are to guard it with nothing less than your life, for its loss could send a dagger through the heart of the true church.”
“My life be forfeit should I fail you, Holiness.”
The pontiff made no reply other than to nod before leaving. Hodel rose, hid the package inside his tunic and disappeared into the eternal city.
Chapter 1
The prophetic time clock moved relentlessly forward. Of the seven billion or so souls inhabiting Planet Earth, only a handful were aware of its existence; Luke Tobias wasn’t one of them. In fact, it wasn’t until the surging tide covered his feet with salty foam, that he remembered his own existence. In so doing, he realised that the events of the previous night had actually occurred; they hadn’t been part of a bad dream.
Minutes passed and his sense of smell awakened. He took a deep breath as the aroma of freshly churned seaweed filled his nostrils. His hearing returned to the sound of waves crashing onto the shore. There was no denying it, he was still alive; three of his five senses were prodding him to acknowledge that fact. Against his better judgement, Luke opened his eyes, inviting the rays of the morning sun. For a moment, he allowed himself the fleeting pleasure of savouring the beautiful sight that lay before him. It was a scene he’d enjoyed so often, always associated with pleasant memories involving his family. A feeling of dread came over him as he pondered the idea that this special place would now be linked with the feelings of despair and helplessness. He propped himself up onto his elbows and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Before him lay signs of life: a windsurfer cutting across the azure waves, a flock of seagulls hovering nearby hoping for an early morning handout from a group of beach fishermen. Behind him lurked the remains of a night marred by the death of a baby boy, unfortunate enough to be born into a family with a history of domestic violence and drug abuse. Every ounce of skill that he’d acquired over fifteen years with the South Australian Police Force, the last five as detective sergeant, had been brought to bear during five hours of negotiation with a spaced out, distraught father, only to watch him break the fragile neck of his new-born son in a moment of panic and rage.
Luke could recall driving away from that tragic scene, the screams of the child’s mother still ringing in his ears as he transported the dazed father to the station watch house for interviewing and charging. What he’d forgotten was walking from the station to the foreshore in a trance like state. It was as if a part of his brain had gone into meltdown mode and his subconscious had led to a familiar place; a place of refuge, a place where little babies didn’t die in horrible circumstances.
He couldn’t remember taking off his shoes and socks and walking to the edge of the shoreline. Neither could he remember finally giving in to sheer exhaustion and falling asleep on the beach. It was only when the tide finally caught up with his bare feet that he realised he was still in the land of the living.
“Luke! Luke! You OK?”
OK? OK? Who the hell wants to know? he thought to himself. Why is someone asking if I’m OK?
“Luke, the whole shift’s been looking for you, man. Where’ve you been?”
I should probably respond , he thought to himself. I just don’t bloody well feel like it. Sighing deeply, Luke turned toward the familiar voice. “Hi Sean, whataya know?”
Sean Thompson smiled at his friend. He and Luke had worked together as patrol partners prior to Luke’s transfer to the Criminal Investigation Branch and subsequent promotion to detective sergeant. He was one of the best practical police officers Luke had ever worked with, and more importantly, he was a good friend.
“You OK, Luke? We all heard what happened, pretty tough, eh?”
Luke focused on his friend’s face.
“Yeah, yeah it was. This one’s not gonna go away any time soon, Sean. I really have a tough time when it involves kids. He was only a few weeks old. He was just like a doll. A floppy doll. He—he—”
Luke started to shudder as tears rolled down his cheeks. Feeling his pain, Sean moved towards him in a consoling manner. Luke stepped back several paces, raising his hand in a gesture meant to ward off his friend’s advance.
"I’ll be alright, give me a lift?
“I just wanna go home. Can you give—”
“No problem, I’ll let Christies Base know what’s going on.”
“Thanks, mate. I really appreciate it.”
Luke was grateful that it was Sean that had found him and was now in essence, covering for him. He simply didn’t want to have to sit down with some desk sergeant and waste time trying to explain why he’d wandered off to gather his thoughts without informing anyone of his whereabouts. All he could think about was getting home as soon as possible, snuggling up to his wife and doing his very best to forget the events of the previous night. Evie would help him to forget.
She had a way of soothing his mind like no one or nothing else could.
“I’ve sorted things at the station. I’ll give you that lift home.”
“Thanks Sean, let’s get going, I’m stuffed