The Voynich Cypher

by Russell Blake

  “I think Luca did. You’re right, though. The acoustics are deceptive.”

  “That’s the only thing that’s saved you from the Jordanian military landing here right now. The shot didn’t sound like much, even from just outside. If she’d fired that weapon in the open it would have brought in the cavalry and there would have been a lot of explaining to do – it would have echoed all the way down the canyon and they’d have had to check what had happened. Count your blessings.” Synthe walked back into the cave, briefly studying the crown and tablet, and then moved to the skeleton. “Speaking of which, is that who I think it is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Church is going to go ape over this, aren’t they?”

  “I’d assume so. I have a feeling Luca was right about that. There’s no way they’ll want this to come out,” Steven said.

  “Oh well. Do you care?” Synthe asked, studying Steven’s face.

  Steven thought about it. “Not really.”

  They returned to the front of the cave and in a few minutes were greeted by the distinctive sound of a big chopper.

  “I’m going to have them lift her and your friend out on a stretcher. You’ll need to get reeled up on a harness. You okay with that?” Synthe said.

  “Fine. Just get her help.”

  Natalie had passed out from the pain, so at least wasn’t suffering for now.

  Synthe moved out into the sun again, and Steven waited inside until Synthe called for him. With a final glance at the skeleton, he gathered Natalie in his arms and walked out into the blinding heat.

  Natalie came out of the operating room after four and a half hours. The surgeon who followed her gurney approached Steven, who was sitting in the hall nervously fidgeting with a can of soda.

  Steven jumped to his feet. “How is she?”

  The surgeon pulled his mask off and pursed his lips. “The biggest danger now is sepsis. I got the bullet out and sewed up all the damage, but these things can go either way. The prognosis is guarded, but positive. If there are no complications over the next forty-eight hours, I think we’re in the clear, although she will need bed rest for a few weeks.”

  “When will she be conscious?” Steven asked.

  “In about an hour. She’ll be in a lot of pain, so we’re going to be administering morphine for the first seventy-two hours via her IV. She’ll be groggy and out of it.”

  Steven shook the surgeon’s hand. “Thank you for saving her life.”

  “It’s all part of the job.”

  “You speak excellent English, Doctor…”

  “Faruk. I went to school at Penn State.”

  The telltale odor of antiseptic hung in the room, an expected companion to the oxygen tubing, the heart rate monitor by Natalie’s head and her IV drip pole. The lighting was dim, set that way to promote rest. A nurse entered and checked her vitals. After fiddling with the IV line, she gave Steven a professional smile and exited.

  Natalie’s eyes flickered open and searched Steven’s face, the drugs obvious in her dilated pupils and unfocused gaze. She licked her parched lips and croaked out, “Hello, stranger.”

  Steven smiled and reached to hold her hand. “You’ll do just about anything to get attention, huh?”

  “You should know that by now. Did you know getting shot hurts?” Natalie asked.

  “I seem to recall it’s not a lot of fun. But the doctor says you’re going to be fine,” Steven said.

  “Hopefully, better than fine.”

  “He actually said you’d be super, but it sounded lame. I figured you’d think I was blowing smoke…”

  “Is that an offer?” Natalie asked, her voice dreamy.

  “Absolutely.”

  There was a soft knock at the door, then Moody entered, his head bandaged and his eyes puffy.

  “Who let the mummy in?” Natalie rasped.

  “You should have seen the other guy.”

  “You look like a raccoon,” she observed, then shut her eyes, drifting back off to sleep.

  Steven released her limp hand and moved to the door, motioning to Moody with his head to step out into the hall.

  “How are you feeling?” Steven asked.

  “Like someone ran over me with a tank. You?”

  “Never better. Nothing like a little close-quarters combat to perk up a dull day.” Steven eyed Moody’s bandage. “What are the odds we can get the helicopter to give us a lift out to the site tonight?”

  “Nil. Too much going on. I’ve been running interference since I got out of the CT room. I have two guys on the ground out there to clean up the bodies and make sure nothing walks off and, apparently, your new friend from the Church has a whole crew sanitizing the area. Between his group and mine, I’d say you’re pretty much covered. Why? What do you want?” Moody asked.

  “The laptop. A few other things, like clothes, ID…the usual,” Steven answered.

  “It’ll still be there tomorrow morning. You wanna hook up around seven for a chopper ride?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. I’m going to crash in Natalie’s room – they said they would bring in a cot. Can you meet me back here to pick me up?” Steven asked.

  “Sure thing.” Moody paused, holding Steven’s gaze. “Take care of her. She’s one in a million. I probably have some sour grapes that it’s you and not me, but if she’s happy, that’s fine. You’re a fortunate man.”

  “I know I am. And I will take care of her. You can count on that.”

  CHAPTER 40

  The following morning, the river bed was unrecognizable. The tents were stowed back in their containers, the kitchen and latrines broken down and packed, and everything was readied for departure. Steven’s and Natalie’s bags sat neatly next to Moody’s off to one side, with Moody’s two men loitering near them, trying to be unobtrusive in the already oppressive heat.

  That will be one thing I won’t miss, Steven thought as the helicopter set down. Moody slid the door open with a tug, and they both hopped out as the blades slowed to an idle.

  “See? Everything’s under control. I do have a little experience with these things, you know,” Moody said as they walked to their bags. Steven crouched down and did a quick inventory – computer, passports, wallets and money all there. He fished his binoculars out and scanned the canyon side, looking for the cave. All he saw was fresh dirt and sand in a spot three quarters up the north face.

  “My guys said that Synthe had a crew out here last night with battery-powered lights setting detonators,” Moody said. “They removed the evidence and collapsed the cave, so there’s no proof anything was up there. I’ll give him credit for being efficient, that’s for sure. If you didn’t know what had gone down yesterday, you’d never notice anything. And by tomorrow or the day after, the sand and sun will have done their work, and there will be no trace.”

  “You get the feeling he’s done this kind of thing before?” Steven asked, and then turned when he saw Moody glancing over his shoulder. Synthe was approaching from down the river bed. When he arrived on the mound, he shook hands with them both.

  Moody spoke first. “I think some thanks are in order for saving everyone’s lives, mine included.”

  “None necessary. Glad I could help out. It’s a shame this regrettable incident even took place.” He fixed Moody with a neutral look. “Or didn’t.”

  “Exactly. Nothing to see here. Move along,” Moody replied.

  “May I tear Dr. Cross away from you for a moment?” Synthe asked, taking Steven lightly by the arm, not waiting for a reply. He leaned in to Steven and spoke almost inaudibly.

  “My side needs to have a word with you. Some assurances. Luca was working far outside his authority, and I need to know what arrangements he made so I can look at fixing things,” he said.

  “I was afraid of that.” Steven went on to tell him about the tape, and the papal letters.

  “When can you be back in Rome? Or put another way: the jet is at your disposal; when will you and the young lady be a
ble to travel?” Synthe asked.

  “She’ll be here for a week. But I can fly up tomorrow if you want. On the condition that I get a return flight, as well as one more flight for both of us in a week.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Steven looked in the direction of the cave again.

  “How did you know about Luca, and when?”

  “For a while. We were afraid that this had to be an inside job that required more than just a lowly novitiate’s level of information, even if he was in the Order and privy to at least some of the secrets. After that, it was just a matter of suspecting everyone until the pieces fell into place. For what it’s worth, I don’t think he got involved with Frank until the end,” Synthe said.

  Steven shook his head. “It’s a shame. And they almost got away with it.” He paused. “I guess you’ll have your work cut out for you now, keeping this secret as well. A little harder than keeping a Scroll under wraps.”

  “Actually, as you may have surmised, that’s a big part of why we need to have a meeting tomorrow,” Synthe confirmed.

  “I got that. Airport at eight?”

  “Don’t be late.”

  Steven returned to where Moody was waiting and they gathered their bags and loaded them onto the helicopter. Within a few minutes, they were airborne and heading back to Amman. Steven felt something sharp jab him in the leg, and he fished in his pocket to retrieve the offending object. Then he remembered.

  “Moody. I need to ask you to do me a favor, and swear you to absolute secrecy about all of this.”

  Steven sat patiently in the ornately-appointed room at the Vatican. A hushed reverence hung in the air, and even the man who brought him a cup of coffee seemed steeped in formality and dignity. He studied the art on the bejeweled, ornately-engraved walls, and estimated that any three paintings could finance a small nation’s army for a year.

  A door at the far end of the room opened, and a small, white-haired man entered wearing a simple, anonymous white cassock. He approached Steven, who had stood, and motioned for him to be seated.

  “I believe we have some business to discuss?” the man began in heavily accented English.

  “It would appear so. I’ve already met with one gentleman today, who I’ve described my situation to, and he suggested I speak directly to you, Your Holiness.”

  “I’ve been informed of your role in the events of the last week, and I first want to say that you’ve accomplished an extraordinary feat. Several. You should be extremely proud of yourself. And I don’t say that lightly.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So play me this tape.”

  Steven pushed the button on the MP3 player and the room filled with Diego Luca’s voice. When the conversation reached an end, he turned it off and took another sip of his coffee.

  “It’s good coffee, eh?”

  “Very good.”

  “Should be. There ought to be some perks to this job.”

  Steven didn’t say anything.

  “All right, Dr. Cross, tell me what you want.”

  “I want what was promised on the tape. I’ve already gotten the money, so that part is taken care of, as are the passports. But there is still the matter of the letters…and the access to the archives,” Steven said.

  “I’m told that the perpetrator of this horrible sequence of events was going to hold me up for ten billion dollars.”

  “Given the circumstances, I think he felt you would have gladly paid that,” Steven acknowledged.

  “Why do you want to have access to the archives? And why not stick me for ten billion dollars?”

  Steven had thought about the answer to that question for a long time. He decided the truth was the best route.

  “I have money. I’m not rich, but I’m comfortable. More money won’t buy me anything I don’t have already. It won’t make me younger, it won’t find me love, and it won’t save me from death. So money won’t be of nearly as much value to me as knowledge and the ability to satisfy my passion for discovery. I suppose you could say that I view having unrestricted access as worth ten billion dollars.”

  He stared at Steven for some time before responding.

  “I hear we bought a software company. What do I know about software? I think you should take it back. A man’s got to have something to do, and I can’t have you in the archives all day, every day.”

  “You already paid for it.”

  “Consider it a bonus. You earned it.”

  “That’s very generous. Thank you,” Steven said.

  The little man sipped his coffee; a look of deep satisfaction spread across his face. “Do you believe in God?”

  “Not in the same way you do.”

  The man nodded. “You can never speak or write of what took place, nor of anything you discover in the archives, unless you have my personal authorization. You understand?”

  “I do. I’m not interested in how the Church conducts its affairs, or what it does or doesn’t share with the world.”

  He studied Steven’s face. “But what is your opinion? Do you think it is right to keep this a secret? Do you question our wisdom in wishing to deliberate before unleashing this on the world?”

  “I personally think it’s a mistake. A Church that is more interested in keeping secrets than fostering knowledge is an institution in decline. But then again, who am I to say?” Steven replied truthfully.

  “Indeed. I do not make these decisions lightly, nor do I make them alone. But in the end, I must do what I believe is best for the Church, regardless of my personal sentiments.”

  “I understand. Yet another reason you deserve good coffee.”

  The man allowed a hint of a smile to play across his face, and then withdrew a single sheet of stationary with an ornate embossing. He picked up a fountain pen and scrawled a missive, then signed it. Finally, he affixed a seal, with his ring.

  “Two letters are inefficient. One should do. I just added a sentence at the top about the service to the Church. You now have everything you’ve asked for, and I trust I can depend upon you to honor your commitment to keep our matter confidential.”

  “I can speak for myself, and for the girl. I can’t commit for the CIA man.”

  “Don’t worry about the Americans. I have pull there.” The man finished his coffee with a sigh and shrugged. “Realistically, even if you did talk, at this point, there’s no evidence, so it would just be another crazy claim. We hear a lot of those.”

  Steven nodded. “I understand. It would never make it to theaters.”

  “Exactly. Too unbelievable.”

  The two men stared at each other for a few moments, and then both grinned.

  CHAPTER 41

  Moody sat nursing a mineral water at a table in the back of a restaurant in Florence. The place didn’t open for two more hours, but he had an arrangement with the owners, as well as a key. The front door chimed, and Steven entered with Natalie on his arm. They peered through the gloom and saw him wave. Natalie showed no signs of having been shot a few short weeks before, and when she approached his table it was with her usual graceful stride. Moody stood and gave Natalie a kiss on the cheek before shaking Steven’s outstretched hand. He sat them down and offered them something to drink.

  “I’d like some wine. Red. It’s been fifteen days since the surgery, and the doctor said I could have a glass after two weeks, so this is my big chance,” Natalie said.

  Moody looked at Steven, and he nodded.

  “You heard the lady. Make it two,” Steven said.

  Moody moved across the floor to the wine cabinet near the bar and, after a few moments, returned with a ready-prepared decanter full of deep, dark Barolo. He selected three glasses, removed the cut-glass stopper, and poured them each a generous measure of wine. They toasted, and then Moody got down to business.

  “We were reimbursed for all the expenses associated with the expedition, as expected.”

  “Nice to hear they pay their bills on time,” Steven said.<
br />
  “It looks like the hunt for you two stopped with Synthe’s bullet to the good doctor’s heart. As expected, Frank’s passing didn’t raise any stir.”

  “People die all the time,” Natalie said.

  “We also did a sweep of your offices and found surveillance equipment. Frank’s, no doubt. So your people are clean. It was the phone lines and modem that weren’t.”

  “That’s a relief, although I never doubted it. I couldn’t see them turning on me.”

  “Your buddy, Synthe, seems to have fixed things with the Roman police, by the way. My sources say that they dropped you two from their investigation. Something about that part of the file getting lost,” Moody said.

  “It’s a flawed world,” Natalie observed.

  “We are all cast of imperfect clay,” Steven agreed.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Moody added, and they toasted again.

  They savored the rich, dark wine, swirling it in the oversized glasses. It was the perfect temperature and opened up nicely, filling the room with its fragrant bouquet.

  Natalie stood and excused herself to go to the bathroom. Once she was out of earshot, Moody leaned closer to Steven and spoke softly.

  “We did the DNA analysis.”

  “And?”

  “Puts the age at two thousand years, give or take. But there was an anomaly on the rest.”

  “Anomaly? What do you mean, anomaly?”

  “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just say it. The bone fragment was human, but it wasn’t. The DNA was very close, but it didn’t correspond to anything they’ve seen before. I had to get it classified as top secret to keep anyone from asking uncomfortable questions.”

  Steven considered the news. Moody nodded.

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yup.”