by P. J. Hoover
I take pictures of everything and text them to Lucas. I guess he’s awake because he responds to each text immediately with some obscure fact about each image I send.
“Texting your boyfriend?” Ethan says.
I tuck the phone back into my pocket. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Uh huh,” Ethan says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“He’s not,” I say.
“Okay, fine,” Ethan says, but he still has this ridiculous smile on his face like he doesn’t believe me.
We finally pull up to a three-story pink townhome with balconies and shutters covering every window. Right next door is an almost identical house except it hasn’t been renovated like this one has. The entire neighborhood has similar houses, with about half remodeled and occupied and the other half that look vacant.
Uncle Randall says something to Mert that hopefully equates to “wait here for us,” and we unload and walk to the front door.
“Whose house is this?” I ask.
Uncle Randall raises his hand to knock. “This is the home of—”
But before he can finish his sentence or even knock, the door flies open, and a man steps out, beaming. He doesn’t have the dark hair and bushy mustache that lots of the men I’ve seen so far in Istanbul do, nor does he have a Mediterranean complexion, instead having pale skin, like he spends way too much time inside. The man grabs Uncle Randall in a bear hug which Uncle Randall happily returns, and when they’re finally done hugging, they laugh and slap each other on the back and say a bunch of things I can’t understand but which they both seem to find funny because they laugh some more.
“Do you know him?” Ethan asks me.
Something about the man’s face looks kind of familiar, but I can’t place it. “I don’t think so. But I’m guessing Uncle Randall does.”
“I kind of figured that out on my own,” Ethan says.
Uncle Randall seems to remember that he’s not alone because he steps back so he can introduce us.
“Tobin, may I introduce you to my beautiful, intelligent, witty, and clever niece Hannah Hawkins? Hannah, this is Doctor Tobin Carter.”
My face warms at Uncle Randall’s introduction, which seems to be laid on a little thick. I’m sure I hear Ethan stifle a laugh next to me.
Doctor Carter steps forward and clasps my hand, but then this doesn’t seem to be enough because he pulls me into a hug, giving me a kiss on either cheek.
“Hannah Hawkins, what a pleasure it is to meet you,” Tobin says when he steps back from the hug.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Doctor Carter,” I say.
“Doctor Carter,” he says and laughs. “Tobin. Please. I feel as though I know you. Your uncle has been bragging about you since before you were born.”
My face, which must be bright red, gets even warmer.
Uncle Randall clears his throat and motions to Ethan. “And our traveling companion is Ethan Oliver, longtime friend of the family.”
Tobin’s eyes widen. “Oliver? As in …,” he says, looking to Uncle Randall.
Uncle Randall nods. “One and the same.”
Which means that Tobin very likely knew all of our parents back when we were little. And then it comes to me. This is the man from the photo with my dad, Ethan’s dad, and Uncle Randall in Peru. The picture with the Deluge Segment. It all snaps into place why we’re here in Turkey. Tobin is the expert Uncle Randall was talking about.
Tobin clasps Ethan’s hand and tells him what an honor it is to meet him. Ethan keeps fumbling over words, like maybe he’s trying to speak Turkish and English at the same time, but he manages to get out a polite thank you amid the jumble.
“Tobin and I went to graduate school together at Harvard,” Uncle Randall finally says, saving Ethan. “Only other student there who could come close to my skills in linguistics.”
Tobin grins. “Come close to your skills? You possibly have that backwards? If I remember correctly, it was you who nearly came close to my level of expertise. Perhaps if you keep studying, you can still get there someday.”
Uncle Randall laughs. “One can only hope.”
“Now please come in,” Tobin says, “and meet my beautiful children.”
Beautiful children is the understatement of the year. It turns out that Tobin has two teenagers, a daughter, Sena, who is sixteen, and a son, Deniz, who is seventeen. Their existence makes me think human selective breeding could be involved. Sena is probably five foot ten, has the longest legs I’ve ever seen which I can tell because she’s wearing tight black leggings, skin as smooth as black ice and very visible because she’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt that shows off a good amount of her midriff, and a toothpaste model smile. From the second we step into their family room, Ethan can’t take his eyes off her. Deniz has the same amazing olive complexion, deep hazel eyes that flirt with me from the moment they meet mine, and brown hair that falls over his forehead. His smile matches his sister’s, and it seems like it’s directed right at me.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tobin says.
He has no idea what I’m thinking. Or at least I hope that he doesn’t.
“What’s that?” I ask, pulling my eyes away from Deniz because I realize that I’ve been staring at him way too long. I almost want to take a picture of the two of them and text it to Lucas back home because if humans can be art, then Sena and Deniz are it.
“You’re thinking that they got their good looks from me,” Tobin says.
“I didn’t want to say anything,” I say, relieved that my innermost thoughts aren’t given away. Though Tobin is a handsome guy, I guess, for being old like Uncle Randall, his kids look like they should be on the cover of magazines.
“I’m kidding,” Tobin says, “You should see their mother. She is a beauty.”
“Where is Beril anyway?” Uncle Randall asks.
“At the market,” Tobin says. “She was hoping we would be able to convince you to stay for dinner. Stay the night.”
“We’re at the Sultan Grande Hotel,” Uncle Randall says.
Tobin looks aghast. “The Sultan Grande Hotel. That’s a rat trap. A place for scammers. You know they found a dead body in the trash bin there last month. There is no way in good conscience that I can have you stay there even one night.” And he says something to Deniz in Turkish who then nods and leaves the room.
“What did you say?” I ask, cursing myself for not learning even a small amount of Turkish. I could have studied it on the plane at a bare minimum.
Uncle Randall looks to Ethan to see if he understood.
“He said to go get our bags,” Ethan says.
“Looks like you have a protégé,” Tobin says.
“It seems so,” Uncle Randall says, and a brief moment of—jealously?—runs through me. Uncle Randall and Ethan seem to have a ton in common, making me feel like an outsider.
We make small talk, mostly about the dead body in the trash bin, until Deniz returns. Tobin’s wife, Beril, gets back, and she insists on making us “just a snack” for lunch. Just a snack turns out to be hummus and bread and fresh vegetables and cheese, and I’m so hungry that I’m more than thrilled. She’s even brought dessert, helva, which Sena says is a local favorite. It crumbles and melts in my mouth, and Ethan and I each have two pieces. If Lucas were here, he’d probably have four. Maybe Chef Lilly can learn how to make it.
Only after lunch do we get down to what we really came here for.
“You seemed a bit cryptic in your messages,” Tobin finally says, shifting our conversation.
Uncle Randall tilts his head in acknowledgment. “I couldn’t be sure who might be listening in.”
“And what is it that we are going to talk about that you would not want anyone else to hear?” Tobin asks.
Uncle Randall looks to me to answer. He seems to trust Tobin, and I’ve never doubted Uncle Randall’s judgment before.
“The Code of Enoch,” I say alm
ost in a whisper as if I’m afraid the walls themselves are listening. The graffiti message from the hotel returns to me. The ground has ears.
It seems I’m right to be cautious. No sooner are the words out of my mouth than the entire mood in the room shifts. Tobin’s face, which has held nearly a constant smile, grows serious. Sena and Deniz, who have been helping their mother clean up after lunch, sink into seats. And Beril, Tobin’s wife, leaves the room.
“We’re trying to find it,” Uncle Randall says.
“We’re not trying to,” Ethan says. “We’re going to find it.”
My first reaction is to argue with him, but even I realize that this is not the time.
“And you come to me?” Tobin says. “Why? What makes you think I can help you? We gave up on that dream years ago, remember?”
Panic fills me. This could be a dead end. Worse, this could be alerting one more person—four more people, if you count the entire family—about our plans, and if they have no information for us, then it wasn’t worth the risk.
“Of course we come to you,” Uncle Randall says. And he waits.
“It doesn’t exist,” Tobin says.
Uncle Randall crosses his arms.
“It’s just a fable.”
“It’s real,” I say.
Tobin slowly shakes his head. “We never found anything about the alleged Code of Enoch. We could never confirm its existence.”
I am not giving up on this. I’m also sure we wouldn’t be here if Tobin didn’t know more. “There are lots of things that people believe in that can’t be confirmed,” I say. “Noah’s Ark. The Colossus of Rhodes.”
“True,” Tobin says. “But at least there is much evidence that points to the possibility of those. Many appear in ancient writings. The Bible. Plato’s Dialogues. People search for them all the time. With the alleged Code of Enoch, there are no such records.”
Uncle Randall leans close. “You vowed to uncover proof that might lead to the Code of Enoch. We need to know what you found.”
Tobin spreads his hands wide. “I found nothing. And if you remember correctly, we all agreed not to continue the search.”
I almost stand as anger moves through me. “I don’t care what you guys agreed to in the past. We have to find this thing. We have to find my parents.”
Moments of silence fill the room. Tobin doesn’t blink. Neither does Uncle Randall.
Finally Uncle Randall says, “Please, Tobin. We need to know. You moved here, to Turkey, to be closer to where the flood occurred, to look for proof. We need to know what you found.”
“You found proof of the flood?” Ethan says.
Tobin’s eyes flicker with a hint of excitement, like maybe he’s dying to talk about this with us. After all, this man moved across the world to search for the Code of Enoch.
“There are many signs of the flood around Turkey,” Tobin says, as if this is a safe topic for him to discuss. “Noah’s Ark, rumored to be resting upon the top of Mount Ararat. Ancient villages sunken under the dead waters of the Black Sea. Fossils of sea creatures high above sea level. Rapid burial of plants and animals. These are the clues that people have been chasing for centuries. They look for proof that the flood really existed, and so much of that proof seems to be centrally located in this part of the world.”
Chills run through me, like ancient mysteries surfacing after being hidden. But if we’re going to get any farther on this, we need to show our hand.
“We figured out how to read the map,” I say. I reach for Uncle Randall’s bag and pull out the high-resolution image.
Tobin sucks in a breath as he looks at the symbols popping from the pages. “How did you do this?”
“My friend figured it out,” I say.
Slowly Tobin shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have this. This should be destroyed like we all agreed upon.”
“But it’s not,” Uncle Randall says. He takes the image from me and sets it on the table in front of Tobin like a peace offering.
“Please help us,” I say. “I just want to find my parents.”
The silence returns, and I feel like Tobin is looking into my soul. If he is, all he’ll find is that this is the only thing I want.
“Deniz,” Tobin finally says, calling his son over.
Deniz gives me a great big smile as he passes by which I happily return. Tobin whispers something into his son’s ear, and Deniz leaves the room, returning a minute later with a wooden box. He sets it on the table in front of us, next to the image of the map. He opens the lid and pulls out something about as big as his hand wrapped in cloth. He moves the box to the floor and rests the cloth there on the table instead.
“In my research, I found this.” Tobin pulls away the cloth, revealing an artifact, circular and covered in symbols. It’s like a small-scale version of one of the pieces of the Deluge Segment. “Your map is almost complete.”
“Almost?” I say.
He holds up the artifact. “This is the final piece.”
CHAPTER 17
“YOU FOUND SOMETHING,” UNCLE RANDALL SAYS.
“Of course I found something,” Tobin says. “You don’t think I moved to Turkey, fell in love, had a couple kids, and slipped into some sedentary life, do you?”
“But you never told me,” Uncle Randall says.
“Because we agreed to never speak of it again. But then your sister and her husband came back after our agreement.” Tobin looks to me then. “You look so much like your mother did the last time I saw her.”
“When was that?” I ask. My heart pounds. We are totally on the right path.
Tobin leans back in his chair. “Eleven years ago. They came here looking for the Code of Enoch.”
They were here, in this very room possibly. I want them back.
“What did you tell them?” I ask.
Tobin shakes his head. “I told them again the same thing that I’m going to tell you now. Leave now. Return to America. The Code of Enoch should not be sought out.”
“I’m not leaving.” There’s about as much chance of me leaving as of all my chromosomes translocating.
“That’s what your parents said, too,” Tobin says. “Even still, I wasn’t going to tell them anything. But when they told me of the danger, of what they intended to do to prevent it, only then did I share this with them. I too had figured out how to read the map, not long after I moved to Istanbul. But without a starting point, the map was worthless. I searched every site I could get access to. Even some I couldn’t get access to. And finally I found it.” He holds up the piece. “This is the secret.”
“Where to begin the journey,” Uncle Randall says.
Tobin nods. “The starting point.”
“Which is where?” I ask.
Tobin says, “Why should I share it with you? What makes this knowledge necessary?”
Silence echoes around the room. The seconds tick by. All sorts of thoughts run around in my head. What if we’ve come all this way, gotten so close, only to find an enormous roadblock? What if this is the end of our journey before we’ve really even started? I can’t let that happen.
Uncle Randall opens his mouth. “Because—”
I put up a hand to stop him. This is my plan. My dream. It is my place to convince Tobin.
“Because we have to find my parents,” I say.
“Not good enough,” Tobin says.
His words bump around in my brain. It is good enough. I’ve been without my parents for eleven years. And if there is a hope that I can find them now, then I have to. I am not going to take no for an answer.
“It is good enough,” I say, rising to my feet. “My parents gave up their lives for this thing. That’s how it’s been for eleven years. And maybe that was fine before, but the difference now is that I know the truth. I know what they went after. And I also know they are in danger. The whole world may be in danger.”
“Danger?” Tobin says, and he looks to Uncle Randall.
Uncle Randall slowly nods his
head. “It’s true. There is a very good chance that we are not the only ones looking.”
“Who?” Tobin says. His eyes flick to Ethan, just briefly, then back to Uncle Randall. It’s such a small movement that I’m sure Ethan hasn’t noticed, but Uncle Randall absolutely does.
Uncle Randall gives a small shake of his head. “Do you remember Amino Corp?”
Tobin cocks his head. “Giant pharma company there in Boston, right?”
“Exactly,” Uncle Randall says. “Do you remember when they hired me?”
Understanding dawns in Tobin’s eyes, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “That’s right. They had a piece of the Deluge Segment. You translated for them.”
“Yes,” Uncle Randall says. “And the CEO, Doctor Peter Bingham, has been showing some unusual interest in the artifact lately. I worry that they may be trying to find it also.”
Tobin presses a finger to his lips as he thinks, then he says, “Haven’t they been in the news recently? I feel like I read something not too long ago.”
I nod. “They’re about to go bankrupt. Lots of bad press. Some of the articles even talk about firing Doctor Bingham.”
Tobin looks to Uncle Randall. Silent words pass between them. Silent words that I hope convey our urgency.
Finally Tobin blows out a long breath. “Sometimes events happen that we have no control over. They are fated to be. And though I have no proof of this, something deep inside me tells me that you showing up here today is not a random event. It is an event that has been coming for many years. Something that must happen.”
Relief flows through me. He is going to help up. He’s going to tell us where to start. I sink back into my seat, not daring to speak. I don’t want to risk him changing his mind.
Tobin places his artifact in the center of our image of the map, overlaying it on other symbols. Immediately it comes together, like a puzzle. Symbols that hadn’t connected before now form into mountains and valleys. But though they are now complete, they still don’t give us all the answers.
“This is where you start,” Tobin says.
“This will lead us to the Code?” Ethan asks, leaning forward.
Tobin narrows his eyes at Ethan. “What are you going to do if you find it?”