The Lucifer Code

by Charles Brokaw

  ‘Okay, Professor, you’ve been impressing everyone with how knowledgeable you are about languages. Since we’re in my field of study now, I’ll be giving the lessons. Just make sure you take notes. There’ll be a test at the end.’

  ‘What are you going to-’

  She rammed the pistol’s hot muzzle under Lourds’ jaw and declared, ‘Either you let us leave or I’m going to blow Professor Lourds’ head off.’

  7

  The Emerald Nightclub

  Trenton Street

  Boston, Massachusetts

  United States of America

  16 March 2010

  Dawson felt naked without a car, but Boston was a hard city to get around in one. He took a cab from Logan International after deplaning from a private charter. His early dinner with the vice-president already felt like yesterday instead of just hours ago.

  He pushed his cuff back and checked his Rolex. It was 11.54 p.m.

  ‘Don’chu worry, mon,’ the Rastafarian cab driver called from up front. He had long dreads and smelled of ganja. ‘Dis town, she be live at night. T’ings still gonna be happenin’. You have good time. You see.’

  Dawson ignored the man. The driver had Bob Marley on too loud, but the music seemed to fit in with the neon life tucked into the dark corners of the city.

  The.40-calibre pistol on his hip felt good, dependable.

  ‘Dis club,’ the driver said as he pulled up in front of the address, ‘she small, but I hear she be rockin’.’ He pumped his fist in the air and grinned.

  ‘Glad to hear that.’ Dawson stepped out of the car and peeled bills off a roll.

  ‘You lookin’ for college girls, mon? ’Cause I hear this place be tight with ’em.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Dawson handed the man the fare. He was wearing jeans, a rugby shirt and a mid-thigh length suede jacket. He was vain enough to know that he could pass for late twenties in the bar light.

  The Emerald Nightclub sat between a Chinese laundry and an electronics shop. Residential floors were above it and most of those lights were out. Neon tubing spelled out the bar’s name across the curtained windows. There was no queue, but there was a big bouncer at the door. He was black, had a shaved head and gold chains and a club shirt under a Sean John coat.

  Dawson turned his collar up against the cold north wind and walked into the bar. The bouncer gave Dawson a cursory glance, then waved him through.

  Inside, the club was jumping – packed wall to wall with college students, the noise level was deafening. ESPN filled the large television screens behind the bar. Basketball games were still playing on the West Coast, and Baseball Tonight was covering spring training.

  Brigid MacKenna filled drink orders behind the bar, moving smoothly and efficiently. At nineteen, she was trim and lean, maybe a couple of inches over five feet tall and little more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. She hadn’t her sister’s statuesque build and height. She wore her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and looked younger than nineteen.

  A group of young guys, probably athletes judging from the letter jackets, sat at the bar and flirted with her. She seemed to enjoy the attention, but she kept working.

  One of the seats near the end was free. Dawson sat and reached for the bowl of nuts on the bar. He shelled the nuts and ate them, building a pile of fibrous hulls in front of him.

  ‘Hey,’ Brigid greeted him a few minutes later. Her skin glowed from the fast-paced work she’d been doing. Her smile was almost electrifying.

  ‘Hey,’ Dawson said and smiled. ‘You’re working too hard.’ He flattened out his ‘A’s to mimic the Boston dialect.

  Brigid jerked a thumb over her shoulder to indicate a short, squat man in his forties. The guy had forearms as big as Popeye’s.

  ‘Tell that to my boss,’ she said.

  ‘Real slave driver?’

  Brigid nodded, then asked, ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Sam Adams.’

  ‘Want a glass?’

  Dawson waved the offer away.

  Brigid reached below the bar and pulled up a bottle of beer. She set it down and opened it, then moved it onto a napkin in front of Dawson. He slid a twenty-dollar bill across the bar.

  ‘Keep the change,’ he said.

  The kitchen and supply room were directly behind the bar. With the crowd on hand, Dawson felt certain Brigid would have to go back there soon.

  He was right.

  When she did, he followed her into the short hallway. The kitchen was to his right and the supply room was to the left. Bathroom and the back exit were in the rear.

  Brigid stepped into the supply room and turned on the light. She took down an armload of packages of napkins and two bags of unshelled peanuts. When she turned around to leave, Dawson blocked the way.

  She tried the smile first. Girls her age always did. But she caught on quick that approach wasn’t going to fly. So she tried authority.

  ‘You’re not supposed to be back here.’

  Dawson kept his face expressionless. ‘Do you know where your sister is?’

  That caught her attention, but she tried to bluff her way through it. ‘I don’t have a sister. I have two brothers.’

  ‘You have zero brothers,’ Dawson told her. ‘You have one sister. Cleena MacKenna.’

  ‘You need to get out of here.’ She took a step forward as though she were going to bull her way past him. But he didn’t move and she stopped short of touching him. All her bravery evaporated.

  ‘I know where your sister is,’ Dawson said in a flat tone. ‘But I don’t have a way of getting in touch with her.’

  ‘If you don’t leave, I’m going to scream.’

  Dawson slapped her face with his open hand, hard enough to knock her back on her heels. She dropped the packages she’d been holding.

  ‘You need to shut up,’ he stated, ‘and listen to me. If you scream, you’ll never see your sister again. I promise you that.’ He moved his jacket enough to show her the pistol holstered at his hip.

  Brigid held her face in her hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She shivered in fear.

  ‘You’ve got a way to contact your sister when she’s out of town,’ Dawson said. ‘Just nod your head. If you try to play me, I’m going to put you in the hospital.’

  She closed her eyes fearfully and nodded.

  ‘Good.’ Dawson reached into his shirt pocket and took out a business card that only had a phone number handwritten on it. The writing wasn’t his. ‘I need you to call her now.’

  Trembling, Brigid wiped blood from her mouth and nodded.

  Dawson smiled to show there were no hard feelings. ‘If she’s not there, leave her a message. I want her to call me back at this number.’ He stuck the card on top of a box of bottled beer. ‘Tell her if I don’t hear from her in the next couple of hours, she’s never going to see you again.’

  Brigid shook as she cried silently, but she nodded in understanding.

  ‘Hey, Brigid,’ a deep voice said. ‘What’s taking so long? Those bums are outta nuts and they’re startin’ to get rowdy.’

  The man with the Popeye arms came round the corner and looked at Dawson and Brigid. Dawson turned to face him.

  ‘Hey, what’s goin’ on here?’ he demanded.

  Dawson hit the man in the throat with the Y of his hand, then drew his pistol and whipped the man down to the floor with three blows. The man didn’t even have a chance to cry out before he was an unconscious heap.

  Breathing hard from the exertion, Dawson wiped blood from his face and turned back to Brigid. She finally found her voice.

  ‘Help! Someone help!’

  Dawson grinned at her, flipped the safety off his pistol, and raised it into position beside her head. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

  The young men who had been flirting with Brigid ran to the doorway. Dawson met them with the pistol in his fist.

  ‘Get back,’ he ordered coldly. ‘Get back or I’ll kill you.’

  The would-be hero
es griped and cursed, but they backed away before the pistol.

  ‘Your sister,’ Dawson said, as he eased out of the supply room and forced the young men backward. ‘Have her call me as soon as she gets your message. Understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Casually, Dawson stepped over the unconscious man, held the would-be heroes at bay with the pistol, and went through the security door at the back of the bar. The alarm blatted loudly and the sound rolled through the alley.

  He stepped his pace up to a jog. A full run would have inspired some of the young guys to chase after him. Young guys were wired like that. But a lope told them he wasn’t afraid. He also kept the pistol in his hand. Luck was with him at the other end of the alley. A cab coasted up the street. At this time of night, a driver could make good money running people between bars and homes. He changed cabs three more times before he headed back to the airport. By that time, with all the walking and changing bars, he was certain the police wouldn’t be able to pick up his trail.

  Back aboard the private jet, Dawson settled into the comfortable seat and poured himself a glass of expensive bourbon. His heart rate was back to normal, but he kept thinking of how frightened Brigid MacKenna had been of him. A dark part of him liked that a lot. He sipped the bourbon as they waited for tower clearance, then called the vice-president.

  ‘It’s done, sir.’

  ‘Good, Jimmy. I take it you’re all right?’

  ‘Right as rain, sir. Couldn’t be better. There are times like this when I really regret leaving the field.’

  Webster chuckled. ‘I’m glad you’re all right. And I understand completely. When something needs doing, there’s nothing like getting your hands dirty to make sure it’s done properly.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You’re certain Miss MacKenna will be calling?’

  ‘Absolutely, sir.’ In his mind Dawson saw Brigid’s face etched with fear. ‘I’d say once Cleena gets the message, calling that number will be the first thing on her mind.’

  ‘Now then, we need to talk about what we next have on tap for Professor Lourds. We’re going to need to expose him as an enemy of our great country.’

  Dawson took in a breath. ‘Sir?’

  ‘It’s true, Jimmy. There are some things that I haven’t yet told you, and I’m going to tell you some of them now. We’re going to need a team in Istanbul to pick the professor up as soon as he surfaces. This is a dangerous thing we’re working on, Jimmy. A lot is riding on our success. We have to be slicker than we’ve ever been before. But you and I can do this.’

  Catacombs

  Yesilkoy District

  Istanbul, Turkey

  17 March 2010

  ‘You’re going to kill me? If they don’t kill me, you’re going to kill me? That’s your plan?’

  Cleena thought she heard anger in Lourds’ words, but it might only have been hysteria. Though either emotion would have been understandable.

  ‘Shut up,’ she whispered as she held tightly to Lourds. ‘I’m trying to save your life.’

  ‘My life?’ Lourds sounded as though he couldn’t believe it. ‘They didn’t start shooting until you grabbed me. I’d already saved my life.’

  ‘No, you just postponed the execution.’

  ‘It was working for me.’

  ‘Look,’ Cleena snarled through gritted teeth, ‘they were going to kill us no matter what. And truthfully, it would be easier for me to get out of here without you.’

  ‘Oh, really? And if you didn’t have me to hold hostage, who would you use as a human shield?’

  Cleena knew Qayin and his men were moving in the darkness. They wouldn’t stay down much longer and reloading her weapon wasn’t an option. She couldn’t do it before they’d be on her.

  ‘Here’s how this works,’ Cleena whispered. ‘Either you come with me or I shoot you. I won’t shoot you to kill you, but I will wound you. Qayin and his lackeys will be concerned about you now that they’ve seen you can read their mysterious little book. They’ll busy themselves trying to save you. I’ll take my chances in the confusion, but you’ll still remain in their clutches.’ She shook him by the collar. ‘So, Professor, this is your last invitation. Do you want to come with me, or do you want me to leave you here?’

  ‘Is there an option number three?’

  She shook him again.

  Lourds gave a brief nod. ‘Let’s do this while my legs are still under me.’

  Slowly, Cleena backed out of the room. Instead of reaching the door, she bumped into the wall.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Lourds asked.

  ‘The bloody door isn’t where I left it.’ Cleena slid down the wall.

  ‘Are you lost?’

  ‘No. Perhaps a little distracted and disoriented.’

  Lourds sighed. ‘Some rescue.’

  ‘Still thinking about the option of shooting you. It’s getting more attractive.’

  The professor shifted, juggling the book in his arms and clapping his hat on his head. He pulled a Zippo lighter from his pocket and flicked it to life. The yellow and blue flame shimmered in the darkness and chased back the shadows.

  ‘Do you see the door now?’ Lourds asked. He focused on watching Qayin and his followers. The men slunk back into the shadows like cockroaches.

  Cleena glanced over her shoulder. The light from the flame exposed a rectangle of blackness.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered.

  Qayin called out of the darkness left in the big room. ‘Professor Lourds, I would advise you not to trust this woman.’

  ‘I don’t trust her any farther than I could throw my left eyeball. However, trust appears to be a capricious thing down here at the moment. I already know I can’t trust you. She’s still a question mark.’

  Cleena backed through the door and glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was behind her. The next room was as big as the last and just as empty.

  ‘Do you know where we are?’ Lourds whispered.

  ‘They weren’t handing out maps when they brought us down here, and I didn’t get the chance to leave a trail of breadcrumbs.’

  ‘So you’re just as lost now as you were a few minutes ago? Only in a bigger room. And these catacombs go on for miles beneath the city.’

  Catacombs were one of the most necessary engineering feats for thriving ancient cities. In centuries past, they’d served to store water, food and house the dead. The thought of graves lodged somewhere in the dark walls left Cleena chilled.

  ‘You are very irritating. And, for your information, stating the problem doesn’t solve it.’

  ‘Recognizing the problem provides focus.’

  ‘Do you have to have an answer for everything?’

  ‘I’m a professor. It’s my job.’

  ‘Professor,’ Qayin called.

  ‘He’s closer,’ Lourds whispered.

  ‘I can hear that. I’m just lost, not deaf. And now that we’re out of that room, they’ll creep up to the doorway.’ It was what Cleena would do in their situation.

  ‘Professor, are you listening?’ Qayin called.

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ Cleena snapped.

  ‘I’m buying us time,’ Lourds said.

  ‘Leave the book,’ Qayin urged. ‘Leave the book and we’ll let you go free. Unharmed.’

  ‘I don’t believe him,’ Lourds whispered. ‘Do you?’

  ‘No.’ Cleena kept backing up, dividing her attention between the doorway, the professor and the area behind them.

  ‘We can find someone else to read the book, Professor,’ Qayin called.

  ‘Right,’ Lourds whispered. ‘As if they haven’t already been trying. I bet I’ve been the only one they’ve found.’

  ‘Kind of high on yourself, aren’t you? You seemed to be struggling with that translation.’

  ‘I read part of it. In twenty minutes, I might add. Under pressure. And without my resource material.’

  ‘You’re really modest, t
oo.’

  ‘I’m good at what I do.’

  ‘They’ll put that on your tombstone,’ Cleena whispered.

  ‘I thought the objective was to get out of here alive.’

  ‘Ah, so you are listening.’

  Lourds cursed.

  ‘Professor?’ Qayin called. ‘Do we have an agreement?’

  Cleena thought desperately, then seized on an idea. She glanced at Lourds and the Zippo he held in his hand. The lighter had to be getting hot.

  ‘Set fire to the book,’ she said.

  Lourds baulked and looked startled. ‘What?’

  ‘Set fire to the book. If they care about it as much as they seem to, they’ll be more interested in saving it than in pursuing us.’

  Lourds wrapped his arm tightly around the book and held it to his chest. ‘I’m not going to burn this book.’

  ‘It’s not your book.’

  ‘It’s not their book.’

  A fresh wave of irritation swept through Cleena. ‘You don’t know if that book is even a real artefact. It could be a fake.’

  ‘I don’t think someone went to all the trouble to fake an artificial language based on outdated Greek for an April fool’s joke. We don’t know what we have here.’

  ‘Is that book worth our lives?’ Cleena asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  Qayin spoke again. ‘Professor, if I’m prepared to try to have another linguist decipher that book, then you have to know that I’m also prepared to shoot you and the woman at this point. I’ll take my chances with finding another translator, but I won’t lose that book.’

  ‘Set fire to the book,’ Cleena commanded again.

  ‘No. I have a responsibility as a scientist to protect it.’

  ‘So you can get your name on an article in some dusty science magazine?’

  ‘That’s not what this is about.’

  Cleena cursed. ‘Are you really this stupid?’

  Lourds suddenly yelped in pain and dropped the Zippo. The lighter hit the ground and the flame went out. Darkness immediately surrounded them.

  ‘Oops.’

  Unbelievably, Lourds bent down as if to search for the dropped lighter. Cleena jerked on his shirt collar to get him moving.