The Hidden Code

by P. J. Hoover

  “We have no plans to disturb the Code of Enoch, should it still exist,” Uncle Randall quickly says.

  Tobin keeps his eyes locked on Ethan. “I’m not asking you, Randall. I’m asking Ethan. What are you going to do if you find it?”

  Ethan’s face freezes at being called out. “I … my parents … it’s just that …”

  “You can’t use the Code of Enoch,” Tobin says.

  “I won’t,” Ethan says.

  Tobin narrows his eyes at Ethan. “I’m not playing around here. The Code of Enoch is dangerous. It should not be used. Even touching it could cause death.”

  “I’m not going to use it,” Ethan says. “I promise.”

  Tobin slowly nods. “A promise that cannot be broken.”

  Ethan gulps but doesn’t say anything.

  Tobin points to two symbols in the center of his artifact. “You can read these symbols, Randall?”

  Uncle Randall leans forward and puts on his reading glasses. He mutters a few words under his breath then says, “Gate.”

  “Gate?” I ask. “What gate?”

  Uncle Randall’s lips are still moving like he’s sounding out words, testing theories. Ethan pulls his phone out and types something into it, then scrolls through the list of results.

  “If you translate Gate into other languages, especially those of the surrounding areas …” Ethan pauses as he looks through the results. “You get Kars!”

  Uncle Randall and Tobin both nod. “Kars.”

  “What do you mean, cars?” I say.

  Ethan shakes his head. “You’re pronouncing it wrong. It’s Kars, with more distinct consonants. Kars means gate in Georgian. It also happens to be a region in eastern Turkey.”

  “Okay, so gate. What’s the other symbol?” I ask.

  “Anahit,” Uncle Randall says.

  Tobin nods. “The Armenian goddess of fertility. Belief for her was strong. So strong that there was even an ancient city named for her.”

  I turn on my phone and type in the goddess’s name. It doesn’t take long to find something useful. “Ani. It’s an ancient city in eastern Turkey. In the Kars district. Named after the goddess Anahit.” It all fits together.

  “Ani,” Tobin says, confirming my Internet search. “It’s a city with a long history. And its placement falls well within our flood region, making it a likely candidate for the information you need.”

  “Likely? Or for sure?” I don’t want to waste my time going down rabbit holes.

  “I haven’t been there myself, so I can’t say,” Tobin says. “But it’s what I told your parents when they came to see me. And it’s what I’m telling you now. I gave them a replica of this piece, and they set off. You need to follow. You need to go to Kars, to the ruined city of Ani. That is your best hope for the answer you seek.”

  And like that, our path is clear.

  CHAPTER 18

  WE SET OUT FOR KARS EARLY THE NEXT MORNING. IT’S A TWENTY-TWO hour drive, and though Mert, our airport driver, keeps insisting that he will “take good care of us” and “make our journey safe beyond our wildest dreams,” Tobin says that the driver is untrustworthy and that we can’t bring anyone else into this. Which is also why he says we can’t fly. He says that it would be too easy for someone to track our flight. Still, it’s going to take us three days to get there driving which is hard to swallow when I know the flight would only be a few hours.

  Tobin insists that we use his family car along with his neighbor’s. He and Deniz can drive. The guys load the cars, leaving me to pack up food with Sena and her mom, Beril. Beril speaks about three words of English, which consist of mosque, dollar, and spaghetti, though it could be argued that the last word isn’t truly English. But Sena tells me that it’s her father’s favorite food.

  As for Sena, she and I have about as much in common as panda bears have with my sugar gliders. They’re both marsupials, but the similarities stop there. Unlike her mom, Sena is fluent in English.

  “I’ll be traveling to Harvard in a year for school,” Sena says. “Papa’s already secured my admittance.”

  Okay, maybe we do have one thing in common. I basically have a spot there too. With and my parents and Uncle Randall having attended, his working there, and the money we donate to Harvard each year, it’s definitely going to get me some special consideration.

  “Great. We’ll be starting at the same time,” I say, trying not to think about the way Ethan’s been staring at Sena pretty much every waking moment. When he was asleep, he was probably dreaming about her, too.

  Sena grabs my hand and squeezes it like we’re besties. “We could room together! In the dormitories. I’ve always dreamed of living in a dormitory. Staying up late eating popcorn and wearing pajamas while we watch movies. Stopping at Starbucks on the way to early morning classes.”

  I’m with her on the Starbucks part, but I’m certainly not making plans for Sena and me to be roomies. If only Lucas could go to Harvard, but his grades just aren’t there. I know Uncle Randall could pull strings and still get him on the dean’s interest list, but the one time I mentioned that to Lucas, he started fuming, told me no way was he ever going to let that happen, and if I did do something like that he still wouldn’t go. As much as I want him to stay around Boston, his dream is attending the Art Institute of Chicago where his alleged ancestor, Georgia O’Keeffe, went.

  “I’ll live at home,” I say, unlatching my hand from hers as diplomatically as I can.

  Sena’s eyes widen with hope. Wait. She can’t think I’m going to ask her to come stay with us, can she? Oh god. Uncle Randall is such good friends with her dad. I can almost see it happening. And it’s not like we don’t have the space at Easton Estate.

  “What about Deniz? Where is he going to college?” Maybe if he were part of the equation, it would be almost bearable.

  “He wants to stay here,” Sena says. “Work with Papa at the museum.”

  So much for that thought.

  Sena’s mom continues making food the entire time we talk. She nods and smiles and laughs when we do.

  Sena says, “Deniz and I speak in English when we don’t want Mama to hear,” and she winks.

  “What do you not want her to hear?” Since I didn’t grow up with my parents, I have no idea what kind of secrets I would keep from them. Maybe Sena has a secret modeling career she’s not telling her mother about.

  Sena looks out the window to where the guys are finishing up loading the cars. “There’s a boy I’ve been seeing. Mama and Papa don’t know, but I’ve told Deniz all about him. He doesn’t go to my school. His family doesn’t have money like our family does. Mama and Papa would never approve. But sometimes, I think I love him.”

  I’m not sure, but it looks like Sena’s mother raises an eyebrow. If she does, it must be a fluke because she continues packaging up our food until there is a feast in front of her. Sena and I load it into coolers, and then Sena wheels it out to the cars. I’m ready to head out after her because it’s getting late.

  “Thank you for everything,” I say to Sena’s mom even though she can’t understand me. I’m hoping to at least get the sentiment across.

  “Thank you, Hannah Hawkins,” she says back, in accented but flawless English. “And remember that things are not always what they seem. Incorrect assumptions can get you in very big trouble.”

  Without another word, she kisses each of my cheeks and then hurries out front to say goodbye to her family.

  Sena is so busted.

  When I get to the cars, we try to figure out who is going to ride with whom. Since Tobin and Deniz are driving, that leaves Uncle Randall, Ethan, Sena, and me, so two passengers in each car.

  “I’ll ride with Ethan,” Sena says.

  I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes, but come on. That is ridiculous. I guess I’m the only one who thinks so though because nobody disagrees.

  “Hannah and I will ride with Deniz,” Uncle Randall says.

  And so it’s set.

/>   As Sena hugs her mother goodbye, her mother whispers something into her ear. Sena’s eyes get very wide, and I have to stifle my grin.

  We’re on one road for about an hour, and then we turn onto another road we’ll stay on for the next eighteen hours. Immediately we hit a giant pothole which I hope is not a harbinger for our entire trip ahead, but Deniz tells us about how the roads have really improved over the last ten years.

  Deniz keeps us engaged with stories of growing up in Turkey. If either he or his sister has to come live at Easton Estate, Deniz would definitely be preferable. I’m not just saying that because he’s a cute guy.

  “Have you ever been to America?” I ask.

  “Not yet,” Deniz says. “Papa keeps promising that we’ll go, but with as busy as he’s been with his work, we haven’t had time.”

  “At the museum?” Uncle Randall says. He seems to be nursing a headache, and his eyes look pretty tired. He and Tobin had stayed up late into the night drinking way too much wine and catching up. I’d fallen asleep easily, especially because they kept switching between languages, like they were practicing.

  Deniz nods, keeping his eyes on the road. Though he’s a pretty good driver, there are so many bumps from the mountainous terrain that we’re getting bounced around like atoms in a particle collider. Still, the gorgeous landscape makes up for it.

  “There have been many new discoveries in these past years,” Deniz says. “People are searching caves, using advanced technology, almost to the point where they don’t need to go inside to see what they might discover. They find scrolls and tablets and toys that children might have played with two thousand years ago.”

  “And do you help him?” Uncle Randall says.

  “Only on the weekends,” Deniz says. “Otherwise, I need to finish up school. But after that, I’ll be able to work there nearly every day.”

  “Once you graduate, if you want to come visit, consider this an open invitation,” Uncle Randall says.

  I swear that Deniz’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. Or maybe I’m just hoping this. “I will take you up on that offer, Mr. Easton.”

  “Wonderful,” Uncle Randall says.

  Maybe it’s a nice thing that Ethan and Sena got to ride together in the other car after all.

  We ride until the sun is well across the sky. Cell coverage is pretty spotty, but when we slip into a zone where my phone syncs up, I get ten text messages from Lucas that have queued up. They all say one thing: Call me.

  The first couple times I dial, it doesn’t go through. But on the third time, it finally connects. Lucas answers.

  “What’s up?” I say.

  “Hannah, we have a problem.”

  A hard ball forms in the pit of my stomach. “What kind of problem?”

  Uncle Randall immediately looks my way. His mouth is half open, like he wants to ask. I hold up a finger, telling him to wait.

  “The rubbing,” Lucas says, and the sick feeling in my stomach grows.

  “What about it?”

  “I had it with me. I never let it out of my sight. Even when I was working. I brought it along, folded up in my pocket. And then, when I went to pull out my phone, I checked for it. It wasn’t there, Hannah. It didn’t fall out. I checked everywhere.”

  “You lost it?” I hate the words, but I have to ask, to make sure there’s not some happy ending at the end of this story.

  “I’m so sorry,” Lucas says. “All I can think is that there was this guy who was super interested in what I was drawing, what techniques I used, that kind of thing. He must’ve talked to me for fifteen minutes. And there was this weird part where he reached across me to look at some of my supplies … Hannah, I think he stole it from me.”

  “What did he look like?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Just some white guy with dark hair. He was wearing a sweatshirt. And he had a beard. That’s all I remember. I just really wanted him to leave me alone. But I think he was distracting me. God, I feel so stupid. I am so sorry.”

  I close my eyes and try to process the information. This is the worst.

  “Did you make a copy?” I ask.

  “You told me not to,” Lucas says.

  “I know. I was just checking. It’s okay. We still have the full image here.”

  “Hannah, what am I supposed to do? I’m so sorry.” Guilt drips off his voice.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No. Let me talk to Uncle Randall. I’ll get back to you. Just don’t worry about it, okay?”

  “Ugh. I’ll figure something out,” Lucas says. “I can’t believe I let you down.”

  “It’s fine. Let me call you back later.”

  I hang up. Uncle Randall has figured out enough of what happened by listening to my side of the conversation.

  “Someone stole it,” I say. “It had to be Amino Corp. They must’ve hired some professional to do it.”

  Uncle Randall blows out a deep breath and slowly nods. “We have to assume that’s what happened. And we have to assume that they’ll figure out the map, just like we did.”

  I want to throw up. This increases the odds that my parents are in danger a million times over. Amino Corp now has all three pieces of the map.

  “They still don’t know where to start,” Deniz says, cutting into the conversation.

  “That’s true,” Uncle Randall says. “We have that going for us. But they’ll be able to check flight records and know we’ve come to Turkey.”

  I ball up my hands in frustration. There is nothing that will keep Amino Corp from flying wherever they need to go. They’ll be in Istanbul as soon as possible. They could already be there.

  “It’s okay,” Deniz says. “I’ll call home. I’ll warn my mom just in case your driver has a big mouth.”

  The ground has ears. All I can think is that it’s just a matter of time before they have the information they need.

  Deniz calls home and talks to his mom. I don’t understand what he says because he speaks in Turkish. But when he hangs up, he assures us that as of yet, nobody has come by to ask about us. She says that she’ll go stay with her sister in a nearby town, just to be safe, in case anyone does come by. This is enough to settle my nerves back to something resembling normal. Still, I’m glad we’re on our way.

  Cell phone coverage seems better in the towns, but they are few and far between. I check in with Lucas, just to make sure he’s not feeling too bad, and then I give him the update. Consoling him helps me feel better, and I finally relax.

  It’s getting late, and we come to what might be considered a large city, so I’m sure we’ll spend the night here, but Deniz keeps on driving, passing through the entire city.

  “We’re stopping, right?” I yawn, not for effect, but because I can’t stop it once the thought is in my head.

  “Soon,” Deniz says. “Papa knows a place not too far from here. Some distant relatives of my mother’s. It’s safer that way.”

  At this point, I am all for extra caution.

  The place turns out to be well off the main road. We pull up to the base of a mountain, to a small patch of about five houses and some fields where a handful of animals graze. I don’t think it could be even remotely called a town. As we drive up, it seems that every single person who lives there, which may add up to about twenty, watches us. We climb out of the cars, a fact that thrills me since I’ve been cramped in the backseat for hours. Tobin greets them with kisses and handshakes and then gives them some jeans and sweatshirts and other random things like vanilla and board games, and pretty soon we’re being ushered in and furniture is being scooted aside to make room for us to sleep. We try to share our food, but his in-laws insist on feeding us even though I can’t imagine they’re overflowing with extra food.

  Uncle Randall, Deniz, and I don’t share the information about the stolen piece of the Deluge Segment. There are too many ears
around. We can fill them in later, once we’re alone.

  I lay out a blanket on the kitchen floor once the fires have burned low and everyone who lives here heads to bed. I turn when I feel someone putting another blanket next to me.

  “There’s nowhere else to sleep,” Ethan says. “Tobin insisted that Sena and Deniz sleep by him in one of the other houses.”

  “I’m sorry for you,” I say.

  “What do you mean?” he says as he folds the blanket over top himself. It’s a tiny kitchen, so there’s less than a foot of space between us.

  “I’m sure you wanted to sleep next to Sena,” I say.

  Ethan rolls over onto his side so he’s looking at me, propped up on one elbow, so the outline of his muscular arms shows in the dim firelight. “Why would you think that?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I whisper so I don’t disturb anyone else in the house. With so many people around, someone has to be in earshot.

  “No, really,” Ethan says.

  “Because you’ve been flirting with her from the second you saw her.”

  “I have not,” Ethan says.

  “You have,” I say. “It’s so obvious.”

  “Please, Hannah. Just because I had to ride in the car with her? There was no polite way I could really say no. Not without totally offending her and her family.”

  “Whatever,” I say.

  “It’s true. I promise,” he says, though I’m not quite sure why he cares what I think.

  “Oh, come on, she’s gorgeous,” I say.

  “Let me tell you something, Hannah,” Ethan says. “Sena is pretty. Anyone would think so. But trust me when I say that she is not my type.”

  “And what is your type?” I ask, but I want to bite my tongue the second I say it. Oh my god, it actually sounds like I am flirting with Ethan.

  “Maybe a girl that’s smart. And pretty. And independent. Someone who’s not going to go through life making bad choices. Someone who knows how to take care of herself. That’s my type of girl.”

  “Well good luck finding her,” I say, and then I try to think of something to change the subject because I can’t help but lie there and think about how many things he’s just said are the traits I’ve strived for my entire life.