Laura 02 The God Code

by Anton Swanepoel

  Chapter 1

  Bill intently stares at the corner of the end of the hallway, his hand already on his Glock 9mm service pistol on his right hip. The familiar feel of the pistol helps to calm his nerves, which are already at breaking point. No one runs in the Vatican, especially not outside the Pope’s personal chambers. Who is it, and why are they running?

  Since the Vatican received a threat on the Pope’s life the previous week, everything has changed, and running is never a good sign. The footsteps are close, almost at the corner, one turn and they will be in the corridor coming directly towards him. Bill holds his breath, his muscles tense and ready to explode into action. He steals a glance at Andrew a few feet from him, who is also standing at the ready, waiting to see who is running towards them. Suddenly Phil’s 5 foot 6 stocky frame rounds the corner. Phil is the Pope’s personal assistant. Bill looks at the comical figure approaching him; his muscles relax, and his breathing returns to its normal slow and deep state. Idiot, why does he need to run and scare me like that?

  “Open the door!” Phil yells out of breath before he is even halfway down the hallway, his face red and sweaty. Bill nods and then turns slightly sideways to enter a code into the security panel next to the door. As soon as he entered his code, a palm scanner activates. Placing his palm on the scanner, he leans forward and keeps his right eye in front of a retina scanner.

  “Access granted.” The electronic voice reminds him of his ex-girlfriend, and an uncomfortable chill runs up his spine.

  She is a stalker and psycho; probably a good thing she is locked up. She set his car alight because he had to work on her birthday and missed her party. The door locks disengage with a click. Bill leans forward and reaches for the door handle. Pain fills his shoulder as he crashes into the wall, having been bumped out of the way by Phil. Phil grabs the door handle and flings the door open, then barges in.

  “You are useless and slow!” Phil yells as he enters the room.

  “Prick.” Bill responds as soon as the door closes again while rubbing his shoulder, then looks down. Had he just sworn out loud in the Vatican?

  “Wonder why he is in such a hurry. He never runs unless it is something major going wrong,” responds Andrew.

  He and Bill are the Pope’s personal body guards and are currently assigned to control access to his personal chamber while the Pope takes an afternoon rest. Of all the people, only Bill and Phil may disturb the Pope on his rest.

  “No idea, hope he is in trouble.”

  The two burst out laughing, then resume their duties in silence. As part of the Papal Swiss Guard, both men have undergone intense training, with traditions dating back to 1506 when the force was created.

  Inside the room, Phil stands still for a moment. His chest bounces up and down as he tries to catch his breath. Fitness is not high on his agenda. He loves food and wine too much. Phil’s chest starts to tighten, and he struggles to breathe.

  His breath makes a wheezing sound, and he quickly reaches into his right jacket pocket while wiping the sweat from his face with his forearm. His right hand finds the familiar object, and he brings it to his mouth. One, two puffs, Phil inhales deeply. Darn asthma, what did he do to deserve this?

  The room is dimly lit by a lamp on a massive mahogany study desk, right across from the door Phil just used. Thick curtains drawn closed behind the desk block out any sunlight attempting to enter. Two guest chairs stand in front of the desk, with a couch to the right against the wall, which is only used when the Pope has a personal friend visiting. To the left of the room is a large bookcase, spanning the entire wall, filled to capacity. The bookcase houses an impressive collection of books, all dealing with the history of the church and religion. The right wall of the room is home to a number of paintings, with a door leading to the Pope’s bedroom.

  Phil walks over to the door and knocks twice, then he waits a few seconds before entering, pushing the heavy door slowly open. The room is totally dark, and the lamp on the study desk pushes the darkness just enough away to allow Phil to walk to the night stand and switch on the bed lamp.

  Pope John Paul II is peacefully asleep, trusting his guards and assistant totally. Phil looks around the room, taking in its splendor. The floor is carpeted by a red and gold hand crafted Artsakh carpet, with the Pope’s personal seal laid in. To the left of the room is a glass sliding door, leading to a balcony that overlooks the east wing of the garden.

  Curtains, identical to those in the Pope’s office, are drawn shut over the sliding door. A custom-made oak and redwood bed, with soft white satin bedding, is in the center of the room with a small wardrobe next to it. A small restroom is to the right of the room.

  Nice, but modest, although he would have gone a different way. Gently, Phil shakes the Pope’s left shoulder, until the Pope slowly opens his eyes.

  Concern fills the Pope, and a knot forms in his stomach. Phil will not dare to disturb him when resting, unless it is very urgent.

  “What is wrong Phil?”

  “Victor surfaced, made contact an hour ago.”

  Immediately the Pope sits upright in his bed, his eyes wide as fear fills his body.

  “And the scrolls, did he find them?”

  “Yes your Holiness.”

  “When is he coming in?”

  “He is not. He wants to sell the scrolls, asking ten million dollars for them,” Phil lies.

  “Why would he do that? It is not like Victor.”

  “He is now traveling with this girl, maybe she changed him.” Phil opens up a folder containing pictures of Laura as he speaks and hands them to the Pope.

  “Are you setting up a meeting then?” the Pope replies without looking up.

  “No. Victor decided to contact the agency he used to work for. They think he is too dangerous to be trusted to make a trade and not double cross us. We also do not trust him to give us the correct scrolls, or not to sell copies to other interested parties.”

  “What can he do when we have the scrolls? Only we can decipher the scrolls. Even if he sells copies to others, it will not matter. Make the trade.”

  “Are you sure that is the best thing to do, it is a lot of money?”

  “For a person in the service of the church, you have little faith. Find him and make the trade.”

  “Very well.” Phil turns and walks to the door. He should have said 20 million. Just as he is almost out of the room John Paul II continues.

  “Keep me up to date on the progress, and Phil, do not do anything stupid. I know Victor. If he wants to be left alone then do so, do not go looking for trouble. If you do, you will find far more than you can ever imagine.”

  Phil only nods his head, and then exits the room, closing the door behind him slowly. Standing in the Pope’s office, he takes out his cell phone and dials a number using speed dial.

  “Yes?” The voice is cold and unemotional. The hairs at the back of Phil’s neck stand up and he swallows hard. Why does she intimidate him so much?

  “Go ahead as planned. Find and kill Victor and the girl. Bring the scrolls to me and me alone, understood?” Phil glances over his shoulder towards the door leading to the Pope’s bedroom as he speaks.

  “Consider it done.”

  “Call me the moment you have the scrolls.” Phil ends the call, a smile forming on his face.

  ***

  Laura puts the phone down just as Victor sits down, bringing them each a fresh cup of tea.

  “What does your friend say?”

  “Suzy was very upset with me for not contacting her directly after the sinking of the cruise ship. However, when I told her that I could not since I met a man who took me on a trip to Mexico on his friend’s boat and then flew me to Peru, she forgave me, and told m
e I should have gone on a cruise long ago.” Laura says smilingly, then continues in a more serious tone. “What are we going to do with the scrolls?” Laura takes a sip of her tea, excitedly waiting for an answer.

  “We will hide them until I can find out what is going on.”

  “But why can we not just give them the scrolls and ask them to leave us alone?”

  “The scrolls are our ace card. It is best we hide them for now.” Victor looks down as he answers, avoiding Laura’s eyes. It is best that Laura does not know that for some reason, it seems that someone wants both of them dead regardless of whether or not he hands over the scrolls.

  Laura’s face sags. Hide them, why? Why not decipher them? Finding things is so much more exciting than hiding stuff. Victor probably knows best. He has protected her so far. Laura nods then continues to eat her salad. They are having lunch at Santa Anna, a small out of the way pizzeria in Cusco, with seating for 40 people. Like many dining places in Peru, the atmosphere is relaxed, with soft Peru flute music playing.

  Victor had chosen seats at the table furthest from the door, in the right corner, with him facing the room and entrance. Laura is sitting to his left, with her back to the opposite wall. Their table is half hidden by a small bar counter running against the wall. To the far right of their table are two doors that lead to the restrooms.

  Due to the restaurant being full, some people have to wait at the bar counter for a table to open. Victor’s eyes follow the movements of every person in the room. If anything is out of place, he will know. A man and woman entered 10 minutes earlier, and are waiting at the bar counter for a table to become free. Both look like they are in good physical shape and are enjoying their vacation, Americans, mid-thirties. Something about the couple however does not fit, but what? There, the man does it again. It is the twelfth time the man glances towards Victor since he arrived, yet he has only looked at Laura four times. Is he tracking them, or gay that he ignores Laura?

  Suddenly the man takes out his cell phone and snaps a photo of his companion. Her shrill laugh does not fit; it’s as false as the happy faces she pulls at the man, while he continues to take pictures of her, four in total. Victor’s face is expressionless. For someone who barely looks at Laura, faking taking pictures of his girl while taking pictures of Laura is amateur.

  Every muscle in Victor’s body goes tense, ready to move, yet his facial expression does not give anything away. Is the man spying on them, or is he secretly looking for a side salad while his wife goes shopping? Laughingly the woman grabs the phone from the man. Now we will see the truth.

  Either the girl is in on it, and they are spying on Laura and him, or the bloke is going to get caught out looking at other menus.

  The woman looks at the pictures and then frowns. Well, she got you mate, you have been caught out looking around. Victor smiles and relaxes, then takes a sip of his tea as the woman speaks.

  “Wow, this is a stunning picture. I have to e-mail it to my sister.” Victor almost chokes on his tea and slowly puts his teacup down.

  “Laura, can you settle the bill please. I am just going to the restroom.” Standing up, Victor places money on the table, and then walks towards the restrooms. Laura shrugs her shoulders and calls the waiter over before continuing with her meal.

  Noel watches Victor leave for the bathroom and leans towards Sally.

  “Have they confirmed the pictures?” he whispers.

  “Yes, we have a go.”

  “Stay here.”

  “But…”

  “Sally, Victor is mine.”

  Not waiting for a response from Sally, Noel stands up and follows Victor, who is almost at the restroom door. Victor walks close to the last table and without anyone noticing, takes a plastic squeeze bottle of vinegar from the table before entering the restroom. The restroom has two basins on the left wall directly as one enters, with two urinals on the same wall after the basins.

  There are four toilets on the opposite wall, all empty.

  The smell of Lavender fills the room.

  Victor quickly walks to the last cubical, where he stands in front of the toilet, leaving the door open. The cold feel of steel greets his hand as he unbuckles his belt and slides it out. Victor places the belt on the toilet bowl, and uses the polished flat large metal buckle as a mirror.

  The squeak of the restroom door opening fills the restroom. Victor’s muscles tense, and he starts to whistle. Holding the vinegar bottle close to his crotch, he gently squeezes it, letting the vinegar splash into the toilet.

  Noel slowly enters the restroom. His right hand slides under his shirt behind his back and he smiles as he feels the small 4 inch double edged knife. Pulling it out, he inspects the titanium blade. You have tasted much blood my old friend, but today you will taste the master’s. Victor had not recognized him or Sally, even though he had trained them both. Amazing what a little plastic surgery can do.

  The agency told him to shoot Victor the moment he has an opportunity. Use a gun, what do they think he is, an amateur? No, he is going to take Victor out with a knife. He is going to become a legend himself. Carefully he moves forward, towards the last cubical where someone is urinating. Hah, going to catch Victor with his pants down.

  Noel moves silently in behind Victor, getting ready to grab him from behind with his left arm, while bringing his right arm around and stabbing him in the heart. The move is quick, efficient and not easily countered; he has done it more than a dozen times before and it all comes down to speed and skill.

  The sound of Victor urinating gives him courage, and with lightning speed Noel jumps forward. Noel grabs Victor in a choke hold around his neck with his left arm, and brings his right arm around and up, directly in-line with Victor’s heart. This is it Victor, your death is certain. Fear grips Noel as his knife hand gets blocked by Victor. It is impossible, how did he know about the attack? Searing pain shoots through his eyes, forcing a yell from his lips, while the smell of vinegar fills his nose.

  Strong hands grab his left forearm. Suddenly his feet lift off the ground as Victor bends down and throws him forward. Pain fills Noel’s head as he lands head-first into the toilet. He tries to take a breath; toilet water is all he gets. The pressure on his neck is immense as his body gets pressed against the toilet’s back wall. Desperately, he tries to push himself up by grabbing the side of the toilet. Twice he loses his grip, and then manages to get a good hold. Pushing up as hard as he can, he lifts his head out of the water. Air, fresh air, never has he been so glad to breathe.

  Searing pain fills his lungs as Victor drives his knee mercilessly into his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. Noel’s head sinks back into the water. Desperately he tries to push up again, and manages to get his head half out of the water. There is a snapping sound as Victor brings his foot down sideways onto Noel’s right arm. A thousand fire ants biting him will be less painful than what he experiences as his arm snaps at the elbow, the bone coming through his flesh, rendering it useless. This is it Noel, death is certain. You challenge your teacher, and he accepted. Noel’s diaphragm bounces as his body screams for air, and involuntarily he breathes, water filling his lungs.

  Victor holds Noel until the shaking stops, and then slowly lowers him to the floor. A quick search reveals a wallet, 9mm pistol with silencer fitted, a knife and a cell phone. Victor puts the cell phone and wallet in his pocket and then removes the gun holster and knife holder. The knife easily clips to the back of his pants, next to the gun holster, hidden under his shirt. Victor positions the body upright on the toilet, and then locks the door by using the knife to turn the simple door lock, changing the indicator from “free” to “occupied”.

  Exiting the restroom, Victor walks directly to Laura, who has a puzzled expression on her face as he approaches her. The shocked expression of Noel’s companion, caught in the corner of his eye, interests him more.

  “Laura, we need to go now.” His touch is gentle but firm on her shoulder.

  “I’m still w
aiting for our change.”

  “Leave it as a tip.”

  Laura shrugs her shoulders and gets up, following Victor to the door. Sally looks on as the couple starts to leave the restaurant. Should she check on Noel or follow Victor? If she follows Victor and Noel needs her, he might die, yet if she checks on Noel, she will lose Victor. Sorry Noel, you are on your own now, the mission comes first.

  Victor and Laura are at the exit when Sally slowly stands up and drops money on the bar counter for her drink. Did Victor kill Noel or just knock him out? It does not matter, her cover is blown. She will have to be careful in following Victor. He will surely set an ambush for her. Will she be able to kill him before he kills her? A cold chill runs down Sally’s back, and a lump forms in her throat. Victor’s reputation is legendary.

  Sally opens the door, and looks at her hands, shaking. The restaurant door opens onto a busy street, and Sally is just in time to see Victor and Laura disappear around a corner into a side road. Where are they going? Sally rushes past the people on the sidewalk and reaches the corner, again just in time to see the two disappear into the crowd at the end of the side road. Damn, I have to move faster, is he leading me into a trap? Sally runs down the road, bumping people out of the way, her hand in her right jacket pocket. She tightens the grip on her pistol, finding some comfort from it.

  The road ends in the main plaza where a market is set up, packed with stalls. People wander lazily from one seller to the next, haggling over prices. Victor and Laura make their way through the maze of people until they reach an eating area.

  “Laura, please sit down here and order tea or something, and keep this backpack with you.”

  “But we just ate.”

  “Please, it is important.”

  “We’re being followed, right?”

  “Yes, now hide. I will be back later.”

  “And if you do not return?” Laura asks, fear in her voice.

  “The money and scrolls are in the bag. Use the money to get to Jose, give the scrolls to Manco to protect,” Victor replies before walking away. As he passes a stall selling clothing, he quickly slips a scarf off the rack and drops some money next to the cash register without the owner noticing. I need to hide and set up an ambush, but where? Victor scans the market. A few stalls from him is a row of five stalls selling rugs, all hanging on railings at head height.