Ixeos: Book One of the Ixeos Trilogy

by Jennings Wright

  “Hey! How was topside?” she asked, hoping for news of Gilles.

  Hannah looked around to make sure they were alone, then said, “I talked to Rod.”

  “Your Rod?” Neahle asked.

  “Yeah… My Rod.” Hannah sat back and closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at Neahle. “He saw me when I went up the other day by myself. We don’t usually do that, you know. Go alone. Of course, he knows where the tunnels come up. He says he’s never told anyone. We worried about the tunnels being overrun when he first left, but no one came, so he must be telling the truth.”

  “So he saw you…” Neahle said, trying to get to the point.

  “Yeah. He waited for me at the Depot. I knocked him out with a wrench.” She smiled. “I kinda liked that part.”

  Neahle laughed. “What was he trying to do? Rob you?”

  “No. He says he wants to come back. Here, I mean. Come back to the tunnels and help the rebels again.”

  “Can he do that?” Neahle asked.

  “I don’t know. It would be up to Abacus and Vasco, and Landon if he were here. I’d like to talk to Landon first but apparently he didn’t stay around after he did whatever he did to Riley.”

  “Do you trust Rod?”

  Hannah blew out a sigh. “That’s a big problem, isn’t it? For everybody, not just me.” She stared at the bright wave on the wall for a moment, then looked at her friend. “I don’t know. He seemed sincere. And he hasn’t given us up in all these years, so that’s a point in his favor. He said he’s tired of life on the streets, that he has been for awhile. A lot of the people he knew at the beginning, the ones he liked that he left us for, have been killed, or died from drugs, or captured by Firsts. Life expectancy out there’s not so good. And he said they don’t do anything. There’s no point to life. They make moonshine and meth, they search for food when they need to, fight for territory, but that’s about it. There’s no… Greater purpose, I guess you’d call it.”

  “Was Rod a ‘greater purpose’ kind of guy? Back home, I mean,” Neahle asked.

  Hannah thought about it for a second then gave a small nod. “He was raised in church by a good family. We come from a small, traditional Southern town outside Charleston. You know, God, apple pie, the American flag, Memorial Day parades, Fourth of July fireworks. Church on Sunday and Bible study on Wednesday. His dad’s a fireman and his mom’s a nurse. Just a regular American family. Rod rebelled, but not… Well, not over the top. He didn’t become a criminal or anything. He partied some, grew his hair long, pierced his ear, got tattoos. Went through a definite ‘it’s all about me’ stage that went on a lot too long. But deep down, yeah, he probably is a ‘greater purpose’ guy.”

  “What does he want to do exactly?” Neahle asked.

  “First, talk to Abacus and Vasco, and Landon if he can. Obviously, that goes without saying. If they say no, that’s it. No one’s ever left and come back, so I don’t know how that would go. If they agree, he doesn’t want to work here in Paris. He said he would be a danger to all of us here. He wants to work on ops, go wherever they need him. At least, that’s what he said.”

  “You know Abacus a lot better than I do. What do you think he’ll say?”

  Hannah shrugged. “No idea. That’s why I wanted to talk to Landon first. If he said no, that would be that. But I guess I’ll have to tell them.” She didn’t look overly excited at the prospect.

  “Probably soon, huh?” Neahle said, putting an arm around Hannah’s shoulders and hugging her. “Want me to come with?”

  “No, that’s okay. Now that I’ve said it to you, I think I can say it to them. I guess we’ll see.” She hugged Neahle back and stood up. “Wish me luck.”

  “Of course,” Neahle said, watching her walk away.

  An hour later, while Neahle was getting ready for bed, Hannah came into the dorm and threw her sweatshirt on her bed.

  “What did they say?”

  “Well, they asked me to repeat everything he said about four times. They asked me what he looked like, what he sounded like, if I thought he was high or drinking. They asked me how he got in the Depot and if he’d been using the motorcycles. He said he hadn’t, but how would I know? They asked me what I thought, then what I felt. If I still love him…” She flopped down on the bed. “Then they told me I could leave and said they’d talk about it, and that they didn’t know if they’d do anything on it before the next time Landon comes.”

  “Very helpful,” Neahle said.

  “Tell me about it. I’m supposed to go up in a few days; I know he’ll find me if he wants to. What am I supposed to say?”

  “Tell them they’re thinking about it. He has to know they wouldn’t just let him back without a lot of discussion, not after he’s been gone so long.”

  “I guess. He’s really antsy to get out, though. He’s gonna pester me until they do something.”

  “Don’t go up for awhile, then. Monkey can go, right? He knows where the cells and the vault are. Tell Abacus you don’t want to run into him again until they’ve decided something or they’ve talked to him themselves. He should understand that.”

  “Maybe you’re right… I wouldn’t mind having a break. Maybe I’ll head to Jordan for a swim.” She smiled at Neahle. “Or come with y’all on your Enigma hunt. I wouldn’t mind a change of pace.”

  “There you go,” Neahle said, climbing up to her bunk. “Problem solved.”

  At breakfast the next morning, Will stuck his head out of the kitchen and called out to Hannah. “Abacus wants to see you when you’re done, in his office.”

  Hannah looked at Neahle. “That was fast. You think that’s good?”

  Neahle shrugged. “No idea. Want me to come this time?”

  “Yeah, thanks. My nerves are shot; I barely slept. I don’t know if I want Rod back or not, even if all he’s saying is true. And if he’s lying… I don’t want to be responsible for something bad happening.” She poked at her eggs then tossed her fork down on the plate. “Ready when you are.”

  “I’m good,” Neahle said, taking the last sip of tea. “Might as well get it over with.”

  The door was open when they got to the office and Abacus waved them in. “Have a seat,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Hannah muttered.

  Abacus sat back in his chair and looked at her. “Here’s what we’ve decided, at least in the short term. You probably won’t like it, but we have to think of the safety of everyone here. What they’re doing every day is dangerous enough without adding risk in their own home.” He stared at Hannah for a long moment before continuing. “Both Vasco and I feel that Landon needs to make the final decision. He brought you both here for a reason and only he knows what that reason is for Rod.” When Hannah started to protest, he held up a hand. “But we know that Rod might be in danger up top if his gang knows he’s trying to leave, so we don’t plan to leave him there, either.”

  “I don’t understand…” Hannah began.

  “We’re going to get him out of Paris and take him to another location. Somewhere he doesn’t know anyone, where he can start working with a rebel cell. He’ll be out of danger and so will we. There are a number of new portals he doesn’t know about, and we’ll make sure he doesn’t see how to get back. The next time Landon comes, we’ll bring him down and they can chat. It’s the most we’re willing to do, Hannah. There are three hundred other people we need to protect.”

  “And if he’s sincere, he’ll go for it,” Hannah said, smiling.

  “If he’s sincere, yes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Monkey and Jose returned that night empty handed. Fighting disappointment, Clay sat with Monkey and Abacus in the library planning the next move.

  “The house in Paris should be next. That won’t take long. Does anyone know where this address is?
” Clay turned the file around so Monkey could read it. “7435 Rue Mayet.”

  Both men shook their head. Abacus pulled down a well worn street-by-street guide of Paris from a nearby shelf. Consulting the street listings, he found the page, then the square containing the street. “East side of the Seine. We have a rebel cell, Two, out that way, but we don’t visit it very often. I’m not really sure the best way to get there. You?” he asked Monkey.

  Monkey shook his head. “What about Hannah?”

  “Hannah has something else she needs to do…” He thought for a moment. “She might know how to get there, but I think Vasco is the best bet. My brother has had the most contact with Rebel Two and he would know the roads. He’ll be back tonight, so we’ll ask him. Maybe he’ll go on this op with you instead of me. I’ve got another matter to take care of.”

  “Sounds good. Guess you’ll let us know when?” Clay asked as Abacus stood.

  “Probably tomorrow night but I’ll confirm it with you at breakfast. Enjoy a day off. I don’t know how many more we’ll get for awhile.” He left the room.

  “What does that mean?” Clay asked Monkey.

  “No idea. He doesn’t seem too happy, though. Maybe the comm center op is about to get busy.” Monkey shrugged. “Whatever it is, it’ll wait til after I take a nap. I’m beat, dude.”

  The following night, Vasco and Clay paid a visit to 7435 Rue Mayet. Monkey and Samson had accompanied them as far as the Depot. Abacus had asked them to do a full inventory on the motorcycles, parts and service records. Taking two fast BMW street bikes, they arrived on the opulent street in an hour.

  Clay slid his leg over the bike and took off his helmet, looking up at the seventeenth century building where Luis Leveque had lived in 1972 when he purchased his Enigma machine from Christie’s.

  “There’s no telling who lived here at the time of the war,” Vasco said. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I know. I thought the one in Spain was our best bet, since it was the most recent. If this one is a bust, we’ll leave it up to Marty and those hard drives. I wish there was some way to communicate faster with the computer station. It could take a week before we know anything.”

  “Monkey’s going to run the drives to him later tonight. I can either drop you at the vault on the way back, or you can stay at the Depot and help Samson with the motorcycles and check on Marty in a couple of days. Let’s see what we’ve got here first.” He looked up and down at the dark, quiet street. Windows and door were intact on all the houses he could see. It didn’t appear that anyone had spent much time in this part of the city since the war.

  They ran up the five steps to the thick oak door. Wide sidelights framed it; they looked through the dirty glass to the dark interior. Examining the lock, Vasco pulled out a slim leather case, opened it, and selected a couple of tools. In thirty seconds he had opened the door.

  “Impressive,” Clay said.

  “Nah, it’s a couple hundred years old. Not very sophisticated. A lot easier than breaking a window.”

  They slid into the front foyer and closed the door behind them. Vasco pulled out a flashlight and clicked it on.

  “Nice!” Clay said. The foyer and what they could see in the darkness beyond was furnished with impeccable antiques. Gilt framed Renaissance art hung on the walls. A dusty but still beautiful crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling. Ivory marble tiled the floor.

  Starting with the first level, they examined all the rooms. The house was old and appeared, from photographs scattered about, to have been in the same family for generations. Searching a writing desk, Clay found an envelope addressed to Francois Leveque.

  Clay held it up for Vasco. “Leveque. Same last name,” he said. Vasco gave a thumbs up.

  They went to the second floor. There were many antiques and expensive works of art, but so far they’d found no relics from World War II. Shining the light up a smaller staircase, they climbed to the third floor. There were only two doors off the hallway. The first held a twin bed on a white cast iron frame, most likely the bedroom of a servant. The second was an office.

  “Whoa,” Clay said, shining his flashlight along the walls. A large bookshelf lined three of them, the only break in the continuous structure being the cut-out for a small octagonal window. All of the shelves were crammed with war paraphernalia. Medals in cases. Helmets. Guns in display cases. Radios. Model ships, cars, and planes. Photographs. Books. A huge antique desk was on the fourth wall—Clay had no idea how they could have gotten it in the room—and along the front of the desk were various pieces of equipment. He recognized an old typewriter, like the one he’d found in his great-grandmother’s attic.

  Walking over, he examined each of the half dozen antiques lined up there. He studied two for a long time.

  “Vasco,” he called. The older man was across the room, thumbing through a photo album.

  “Got something?” Vasco asked.

  “Two somethings. Look.” When Vasco came over, he shined his light on two tall machines that looked similar to typewriters, but were anchored in boxes. They were covered with dust, but the rows of keys were still supple. A drawer revealed that each had full sets of rotors.

  “Are they M3?” Vasco asked.

  “I’m not sure. Here, shine your light on this sticker in here,” Clay said, pointing to the inside of the lid. “It’s in German…”

  “No surprise there,” Vasco muttered.

  Clay leaned in, skimming the faded black writing on the aged yellow sticker. “I think this is just the directions.” He closed the lid and latched it, then turned the box over to examine it. There was a small bronze plate, less than an inch high and two inches long, with engraving on it. He got his face right down next to it.

  “It’s mostly worn off… There’s an M but I can’t make out the number. Let’s look at the other one.” Vasco closed it and flipped it over and Clay examined it. “Same with this one. We’ll take them both. Do you see code books? You think he had two so he could send messages, maybe with his family?”

  Vasco smiled. “I don’t know, but I’d like to think so.”

  They found one code book in a desk drawer. Clay scanned the first page. “Yes! It’s for an M3! So these must both be M3 if he’s only got one code book, right?”

  “Makes sense to me. Let’s take them both. You never know.” Vasco put one in his duffel bag and Clay packed the other with the code book.

  “Marty’ll be disappointed,” Clay said, smiling. “He won’t get to play with those hard drives.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Vasco and Clay stayed the night at the vault. Marty had come across several more emails from the scientist to the anonymous recipient at LRTD which he had added to his growing file.

  “I’m going back with you—I want to see how this Enigma machine works,” he said.

  “I’m not sure we can spare you,” Vasco said, flipping through the nonsensical messages. “The comm center op is coming up and we’ve got some other things brewing.”

  “I’ll come back with Hannah or Monkey in a few days, whenever their next assignment is. I promise.” Marty turned to Marissa, who was chewing a slice of bread dipped in oil. “You can spare me, right?”

  Marissa smiled around the mouthful of bread. “All you’ve been working on is this Enigma stuff anyway. We won’t even miss you.”

  “Oh, thanks very much,” Marty said, but he reddened, knowing she was probably right.

  Vasco laughed. “Okay, you can come back with us for a few days. But once you’re back here, you’re going to have to move this stuff to the back burner. We’ll send a list of other things we need to be looking for; we’ll expect you to work on those most of the time.” He looked at Marty with a raised eyebrow.

  “Aye-aye, captain,” Marty said, saluting. “Your wish is my co
mmand. Now let me see the machine.”

  Clay pulled out the heavy machine that was filling up his duffle bag, along with the code book. He opened the book on the table and flattened the old paper out.

  “It goes by date. If they’re not using the correct dates we’re screwed. But if we assume they are, then we take the date of the first email…” He looked at Marty, who fumbled through the printed pages looking for the oldest.

  “August 16,” he said.

  “Okay, we go to August 16,” Clay said, flipping through the well-worn book. He stopped and looked at two pages with row upon row of tiny red writing. Running his finger across the top, he stopped and tapped. “Here. This page is August 16.”

  “But there are fifty rows for that day,” Marty said, examining the four columns.

  “Right. You start with the rotors, here.” He pointed to a grouping of Roman numerals. “That tells you which rotors to use for that day, and in what order.” Pulling open the drawer he looked at the eight metal gears, turning them over in his hand. “For August 16, we use II, VI and VII. I guess in that order.” He took a metal shaft and threaded the three rotors onto it. There were letters along the curved outside of the shaft, and the rotors slotted into each other when pushed together. Opening the machine, they peered inside.

  “It goes here,” Clay pointed. There was an opening with a fixed wheel on either side. Sliding the shaft into the wheel on the right, he slid it down into a slot in the wheel on the left. Once it was seated, he closed and latched the lid. The rotor gears were visible through three slots above the keyboard.

  “So then we just type?” Marty said, fingering the round letter keys.

  “No, now we set the rotors.” He pointed to the first row in the code book. After the number 1, the letters D F J appeared in a second column. Clay manually turned the rotors until the letters D F J appeared in the slots. “The first message of the day uses the rotors in this starting position. For the second message, you’d change it to L P W.” He tapped the second row then ran his finger down the long list of tiny red characters. “See, you can send two hundred messages a day, all with different starting codes.”