The Final Conflict Page #4

They were bought by a priest, and he passed

them on to a monastery in Italy - Subi...

Subiaco. The monastery of San Benedetto.

Yeah, Subiaco.

We've got our people in Italy working on it.

- Unless something happens, they should...

- It's too late.

They're here in England

for the birth of the Nazarene.

Trying to destroy me before I destroy them.

He was born last night. I feel his presence.

Like a virus, a parasite,

feeding on my energy,

trying to drain me of power.

For every day that he lives and grows,

my force will weaken.

Hide if you must, Nazarene,

but I will hunt you down.

- Why is he just sitting there?

- Waiting for me to follow him.

He must be an idiot if he thinks

you're gonna do something like that.

- He knows that's exactly what I intend to do.

- But what if he's got one of those daggers?

I'll be wasting my time if he hasn't.

Matteus here. I'm 10 minutes away.

Thorn's about... 500 yards behind me.

Enough!

Enough. It's done.

But it was him! I saw him! I saw him!

- Sweet Saviour, spare our minds.

- We're possessed!

Spare our minds!

Down there! It's our only way out!

- It's bricked up!

- It's closed here too.

There is no way out!

We're trapped!

There are still three daggers left.

But I can't afford to waste any more time.

The only way to be rid of the Nazarene

is to kill every male child in the country

born between midnight and dawn

- on March 24th.

- How can we be sure he's in the country?

"And he shall come forth out of the

angel isle." That's what the prophecy says.

One thing pedantic Christians believe in

is sticking to the letter of their prophecies.

- How's Barbara?

- Fine.

- And your son?

- Fine. He's fine.

He was born on March the 23rd, wasn't he?

Yeah, yeah. Sure. He was born

10 minutes before midnight, March 23rd.

Whenever you're ready, Mr. Ambassador.

Liquidate the Nazarene.

Me? How?

That's what our people are for.

Now, call a meeting for Sunday.

I'll make my own way there after the hunt.

Chin up, old boy.

Thank you, my dear. I've been waiting

for this drink since the last meet.

Stay close to Susan at the back,

and don't go showing off to Damien.

- Don't worry. You'll still get blooded.

- What does blooded mean?

You know perfectly well what it means.

If it's your first hunt and they catch a fox,

they smear blood all over your cheeks.

Satisfied?

Take care.

Well, Mr. Ambassador,

you've got the fastest horse in the hunt.

And it's a lovely morning for you.

OK, boys.

Take him.

Damien!

Damien, did you catch one?

The hounds didn't leave

too many souvenirs, but...

I saved some of the blood.

Can you blood me? Does it count?

It does with me.

Disciples of the watch,

I stand before you

in the name of the one true god,

who was cast out from heaven but is alive

in me.

Do you hear me?

We hear and obey. We hear and obey.

I now command you

to seek out and destroy the Nazarene child.

Slay the Nazarene,

and I shall reign for ever.

Fail,

and I perish.

Slay the Nazarene,

and you, my disciples,

shall truly inherit this earth.

Fail,

and you will perish without trace.

Slay the Nazarene,

and you will know the violent raptures

of my father's kingdom.

Fail,

and you will be condemned

to a numbing eternity

in the flaccid bosom of Christ.

Do you hear me?

We hear and obey.

Disciples of the watch,

there must be no delay.

Slay the Nazarene,

and the victory will be ours,

now... and for ever more.

Do you hear me?

We hear. We hear.

We're going for a walk now, aren't we?

With Auntie Carol, hey?

- Barbara!

- Hi. I'll be with you in just a minute.

There you go. All wrapped up.

- Harvey!

- Yeah?

I'm just going shopping with Carol.

I'm gonna take Junior with me, OK?

Listen, don't forget to pick up

my stuff from the cleaner's.

- No, I won't. I'll see you later.

- Bye.

Peterson? Harvey Dean.

I said "I'm not paying you that much.

You've only been here for two hours."

- What do you expect me to say?

- You've got such a nerve.

The Brookman family at 23 Ormsby Road,

Sefton Park, Liverpool.

Listen, Peterson, I don't give a sh*t

how you feel about this! Just do the job!

OK.

Now... Sefton Park, Liverpool.

And the boy's name is Christopher.

Kirkby Towers.

Kirkby 14.

Boy's name is Alexander David.

OK?

By Tuesday night.

Right.

Blake? Dean.

Why don't you and Harvey

come over for a meal?

Yeah. OK. That's nice.

I'll call you later. Bye.

We'll soon be home and you can have

something nice to eat. Are you hungry?

Who's a good boy, then?

Can you hear me?

No!

No!

- Name this child...

- Alexander David.

I baptise you Alexander David,

in the name of the Father and of the Son

and of the Holy Spirit.

We receive this child into

the congregation of Christ's flock,

and sign him with the sign of the cross.

Morning, missis. We've come

to do our good deed for the day.

We're devoting the first part

of our programme

to a disturbing phenomenon that's been

puzzling both doctors and police this week.

The mysterious deaths of numbers of babies

in the kind of circumstances

that coroners are fond

of terming "misadventure".

At the turn of the century, the infant mortality

rate stoodata staggering 34per cent.

In 1945 it dropped to 16 per cent.

And nowadays it's been cutback to under

two per cent. That is, until last week.

In Greater London, 17 babies

have died in the last seven days,

with a further 14 deaths reported

from Glasgow, Birmingham, Manchester,

Leeds and Liverpool. These may

not sound unduly high figures,

but nationwide they represent

a chilling 15 to 20 per cent increase

- in the mortality rate.

- Harvey...

- Details are still sketchy at the moment.

- It's just a coincidence, that's all.

..except one - in every case

the victim has been a baby boy.

To throw further light on the subject,

I have with me Dr Richard Philmore

from the Ministry of Health

and Social Security.

- Tell me, what explanation do you have?

- Barbara?

It's too soon for us to make any statement,

but Id like to correct you

on a point that you just made.

It really is quite inaccurate

to speak of a 20 per centrise

in the infant mortality rate index.

Our statistics are based on annual averages

and not on weekly fluctuations.

But you admit there's been an unexplained

increase in the deaths among baby boys?

A rise, but nothing compared to the rise you'd

expect to find during, say, a flu epidemic.

Surely, Dr. Philmore,

we're not talking about a flu epidemic.

We're talking about

household burns, drownings,

car accidents, suffocation,

food poisonings, electrocution.

Scotland Yard has assured us that in their

opinion there is no question of foul play

in any of the mortalities reported.

Forgive me if I speak bluntly,

but your kind of scaremonger reporting

is the kind of behaviour

that brings the media into bad repute.

- Night, Miss Reynolds.

- Night, Bill.

Miss Reynolds.

I need to talk to you urgently.

- It's about your programme about the deaths.

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