The Crystal Code

by Richard Newsome

  ‘Oswald?’ Gerald said, cocking an eye at his old school friend.

  The pink in Ox’s cheeks turned two shades brighter. ‘Alisha doesn’t like my nickname,’ he mumbled. ‘She thinks it’s disrespectful.’

  ‘Does she?’ Sam said, raising his eyebrows. ‘That’s very considerate of her.’

  Alisha shot Sam a filthy glare. ‘Oh, grow up,’ she said. ‘You could learn a lot from Oswald. Maybe you should be concentrating on how to get out of here.’

  Gerald suppressed a grin. Alisha was right, of course. But still—he looked at Alisha patting the back of Ox’s hand. Alisha and Ox! Who would have thought?

  ‘What is this place?’ Felicity asked.

  ‘We haven’t seen him much,’ Ox said, his voice low. He glanced over his shoulder. Brahe was bent over a workbench, fussing with a complicated arrangement of flasks and titration tubes. Pugly was hard at work, shovelling coal through one of the arched doorways, deep into the heart of the furnace. ‘He comes and goes,’ Ox said. ‘But he seems to be working on a chemical creation of some sort.’

  Felicity nodded. ‘We think it’s the universal remedy,’ she said. ‘A medicine that can cure everything.’

  Alisha was taken aback. ‘Cure everything? Surely that’s a good thing,’ she said. ‘Why all this secrecy and kidnapping if he’s making something that could help millions of people?’

  Gerald tried to sit straighter. He winced at the movement. ‘That’s the problem,’ he said. ‘Felicity thinks the recipe calls for one special ingredient.’ He paused, looking from Felicity to Alisha and then to Ruby. ‘The heart of a young girl.’

  Alisha rocked back. ‘That’s absurd!’ she said. ‘Why would anyone believe that?’

  ‘Because it works.’ Brahe’s voice carried across to them from his workbench. ‘And I am living proof.’

  He swung around to face them. His face was soaked in perspiration. Despite the heat blasting from the furnace, his skin was wax pale.

  Gerald was shocked at the change in Brahe since the first time he’d seen him, in the butterfly house at Jasper Mantle’s estate in England. All the colour had leached from his face, as if his life force had drained away. In its place was a cadaverous pallor, as plain and lifeless as any slab of marble in the morgue.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald said.

  Brahe leaned on the bench, as if the act of breathing was an effort. He let loose a liquid cough.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Sam said. ‘He’s the picture of health.’ Ruby shushed him.

  ‘I mean, Mr Wilkins, that I know the secret of the universal remedy. I have denied death for four hundred years. And I will keep doing it, again and again.’ Another burst of coughing wracked his chest.

  Behind Brahe, Pugly kept feeding coal into the furnace. Fire and fumes belched from the six archways.

  ‘He’s a complete nutter,’ Sam said. Ruby shushed him again.

  Felicity rattled the bars of their cage. ‘Are you saying you’re the same Tycho Brahe that served in the court of King Rudolph? That’s ridiculous.’

  Brahe drew back his shoulders. ‘I am Tycho Brahe,’ he declared in a voice far stronger than his appearance suggested possible. ‘I am the melder of mercury and lead. I am the creator of gold. I am the cartographer of stars and planets. I am Astrologer Royal to the court of King Rudolph II of Bohemia, Holy Roman Emperor and ruler of all the civilised peoples of Europe. I am his confidant, his alchemist, his adviser. And as possessor of the universal remedy, I am, by right, his successor.’ His voice rose if he was addressing a rally of ten thousand, rather than six bedraggled kids and a barnful of farm animals.

  Ruby dipped her head low. ‘Is he seriously saying he’s the king of Europe? Sam’s right. He is a nutter.’ This time, Gerald shushed Ruby. He had spotted a large knife on Brahe’s workbench. It was best to keep the man talking.

  ‘What about all those graves with your name on them?’ Gerald said. ‘The one in the church in Prague, and in the cemetery in Hadanka? Why would someone who has cheated death need two graves?’

  Brahe stiffened and wiped an unsteady hand across his forehead. ‘I am the possessor of the universal remedy,’ he said. ‘I have denied death for four centuries.’

  Felicity rattled the bars again. ‘If you’ve had that remedy for four hundred years, why have you been running around Europe trying to find it again?’

  ‘That’s a good point,’ Gerald said. ‘If you’re the real Tycho Brahe why do you need the Voynich Manuscript to get the recipe for your potion? Why go to all this trouble to decipher the code when you’re supposedly the man who has it already?’

  Alisha joined Felicity at the cage bars. ‘Is that what you’ve been doing to the animals down here? Testing different recipes on them to see if they work? Is that what this place is? A test lab?’ She turned to the others. ‘You should see the number of dead animals that have been dragged out of here in the past few days.’

  Brahe turned back to his equipment. He took a pinch of powder from a dish and threw it into a bubbling pot. A purple flash exploded from the surface.

  ‘It is almost ready,’ Brahe said. He picked up a ragged manuscript and consulted the top sheet. ‘Just one item to go.’ He reached for the knife on the benchtop.

  Gerald’s eyes grew wide. ‘You can’t do this,’ he yelled. ‘You can’t take a life to lengthen your own. It’s unthinkable.’

  Brahe lifted the knife and held its broad silver blade to the light. ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘What do you think war is all about?’

  ‘But that’s not the same,’ Gerald said. ‘No one is threatening you. We’re not trying to kill you.’

  ‘If one of these girls dies, I live,’ Brahe said. ‘It’s completely rational.’ Brahe took a step towards the cage. ‘When I get the formula just right, I’ll release the remedy to the world. I’ll extend to all mankind the ability to cure all sickness. Cancer, dementia, diabetes—all cured. No one would lose a loved one again. Funerals and tears would be a thing of the past. I will be the ultimate doctor. The only doctor the world will ever need. Isn’t that worth the sacrifice of one life—a life that will end one day anyway?’

  A silence fell over the chamber. Even the animals in their stalls were quiet.

  ‘Wouldn’t you do that, Gerald? Give one life to help a million? Not to mention the time it gives. Imagine if the world’s greatest scientists, artists and musicians could extend their careers by centuries. Imagine the advances that would deliver for all mankind. All from the gift of one child.’

  Gerald stared at Brahe and the knife in his hand. He was clearly mad. But was there some sense in what he said? Was the loss of one to benefit the world a worthy sacrifice?

  ‘This is insanity.’ Ruby rushed up to the cage door, pushing Felicity and Alisha aside. ‘Listen to what you’re saying. You can’t seriously believe all this rubbish about living forever. All this rot about Rudolph and his court.’

  Brahe’s face blanched. He strode up to the cage. ‘Don’t talk to me about Rudolph! What do you know of him?’

  Ruby glared defiance. ‘Rudolph?’ she said. ‘Didn’t he have a very shiny nose?’

  Brahe’s eyes bulged with anger. In an instant he had the cage door unlocked and a hand wrapped around Ruby’s wrist. He wrenched down, hard. Ruby screamed in pain. Brahe slashed out with the knife, forcing Sam, Ox, Alisha and Felicity to the back wall with Gerald. Before they could move again, Brahe had locked the door and was hauling Ruby across the floor.

  Ruby’s shrieks were joined by cries from inside the cage. Gerald and the others rushed the bars, trying to break free. The animals in their pens, sensing danger, raised a ruckus, a cacophony of barnyard bleating and braying.

  Brahe didn’t pause for a second. He dragged Ruby like a caveman with his conquest. She kicked and writhed but to no effect. Brahe tossed her onto a stainles
s-steel bench as if she was no more than a sack of onions.

  Pugly strapped Ruby’s arms and legs down with broad leather bands. She fought back but the binds held firm. She cried each time she moved her wrenched left wrist—sobs that seemed to urge her to greater resistance. But her efforts were futile.

  ‘More heat.’ Brahe turned to his assistant. ‘The crucible must be kept at the right temperature to bring about the reaction.’ A vat the size of a hot tub bubbled with molten metals and flux.

  Pugly shovelled more coal into the furnace. The temperature in the chamber rose ever higher.

  Sam rushed the cage gate with his shoulder, rattling it on its hinges. Alisha and Felicity screamed for Brahe to stop. Ox and Gerald pounded on the lock plate. But nothing worked.

  Brahe called out to Pugly. ‘Keep them quiet,’ he said. ‘They’re disturbing the other animals.’

  Pugly dropped his shovel and crossed to the cage. He pointed the handgun in Gerald’s face. The chamber was silent.

  Drops of perspiration ran from Brahe’s brow down his silver nose, and onto Ruby’s face. She turned her cheek, trying to avoid the foul stream.

  Brahe blinked the sweat from his eyes. ‘I have so much to achieve, so much to do.’

  Ruby eyed the blade in Brahe’s hand and strained again at her bonds. ‘Please don’t,’ she said. ‘So do I.’

  She was drenched in perspiration. Her clothes clung to her as if she’d been caught in a summer storm.

  Brahe put a steel bowl at Ruby’s side. ‘I will make this as painless as possible,’ he said. And raised the knife in the air.

  Ruby arched her back, hauling at the straps.

  Sweat washed across Brahe’s face. He placed a hand on the collar of Ruby’s T-shirt, and pulled.

  The fabric tore.

  The blade turned.

  Brahe’s nose shifted on his face. The sweat was washing it loose. Ruby’s good wrist, slick with perspiration, slipped its bonds.

  The nose dropped free.

  In a flash, Ruby snatched the lump of silver in mid-air, just centimetres from her face. Then, in a backhanded swipe, she wielded the pointed nose tip like a blunt weapon. It connected with Brahe’s temple. The blow knocked him senseless and sent him sprawling across the steel bench.

  By the cage, the sight of Brahe sliding towards the vat of bubbling metal caught Pugly by surprise. He turned his head for a second.

  It was all Felicity needed.

  She pulled Ruby’s scarf from her pocket. Holding each end, she threw it over Pugly’s head. She whipped the scarf tight, catching him around the throat and crashing him hard into the cage bars.

  ‘Drop the gun,’ Felicity whispered into his ear. Pugly’s body convulsed, struggling for breath. ‘Or I’ll rip your head off.’

  The gun clattered onto the stone floor.

  Ruby was sitting up, unbuckling the straps at her feet. She looked across at Brahe, slumped on the edge of the bench. He was just centimetres from the lip of the bubbling crucible. The heat of the furnace was almost cooking them.

  Ruby clambered onto her knees, bumping her wrist. She let out a cry of animal intensity. Her shirt was torn and her face was stained with sweat and grime. She shuffled over to where Brahe was lying. Her eyes were a blank mirror of intent. She reached out and peeled Brahe’s fingers, one by one, from around the handle of the knife. And took the weapon into her own hand.

  Gerald smacked Pugly over the back of his head. ‘The keys,’ he demanded. ‘Where are the keys?’

  The man’s fingers clutched at the furled scarf that was pulled taut across his windpipe like a garrote. He could barely croak, ‘Pocket.’

  Ruby clutched the knife handle tight. She nursed her shattered left wrist in her lap. And she put the edge of the silver blade to Brahe’s exposed throat.

  ‘Ruby?’

  Gerald crawled up onto the benchtop beside her—two friends, kneeling together as if at prayer. He looked at her flushed face, her hair plastered to her forehead. She didn’t shift her gaze from the unconscious face of Tycho Brahe.

  Again, she slid the blade across the soft skin beneath Brahe’s beard, as if giving him a shave.

  ‘Ruby?’ Gerald said again.

  ‘He was going to kill me.’ Ruby spoke softly. Deliberately. ‘He was going to slice me open and take my heart.’

  ‘Ruby.’ Gerald reached out and laid his hand on her arm. Her skin was on fire, burning with the intensity of the furnace. ‘You can’t kill him.’

  Ruby turned the blade, moving the point onto a vein that ran the length of Brahe’s neck. A bead of blood formed at its tip. ‘Why not?’ she said. ‘Using his logic, if he dies, I live. That’s what he said. That’s how he justified what he was going to do.’ Her eyes fixed on the red bubble as it expanded on Brahe’s skin. ‘Isn’t that how everyone behaves, anyway? Who cares what happens to you as long as I’m okay. I’m the centre of the universe and the sun revolves around me.’

  Gerald leaned in closer and put his arm around Ruby’s shoulders. ‘I thought the sun shone out of my backside.’

  The edges of Ruby’s mouth twitched up. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘Don’t make me laugh.’

  Gerald squeezed a little tighter. ‘A very smart person once said to me that hurting someone, even an evil person, would make me no better than they were. Do you remember that?’

  Ruby gave a tight nod. The confrontation with Sir Mason Green in the burial chamber under Beaconsfield seemed so long ago.

  ‘I think the same applies here,’ Gerald said.

  Ruby twirled the blade on its point. The red bubble burst and trickled a thin trail into Brahe’s collar. She pulled the knife away and tossed it into the crucible.

  It landed with a splash of flame, then sank without a trace into the molten depths.

  Chapter 35

  When the Swedish police stormed the furnace room they found many things that surprised them.

  Two men slumped in a locked cage.

  A barnyard of animals.

  A laboratory that looked like Frankenstein’s workshop.

  And six exhausted, sweating kids.

  Detective Ericsson from Landskrona Police took some convincing of their story. ‘Tycho Brahe?’ he said. ‘He’s been dead for four hundred years.’

  Gerald jerked his thumb towards the iron cage. ‘Well you better tell him in there, because he’s convinced he’s the next king of Europe and that could put a damper on his coronation party.’

  The police had arrived in force and were scouring the chamber. They located a large entrance on the far side and had started leading the animals up to the surface. Alisha and Ox helped Felicity with the horses.

  Amongst all the activity, Gerald sat at Brahe’s workbench with Detective Ericsson, trying to explain the inexplicable. Ruby leaned against the stainless-steel benchtop next to Gerald, fiddling with the rubber tube from a Bunsen burner.

  ‘So, this man kidnapped your two friends in California and brought them here?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Gerald said.

  ‘Because he wanted to cut out a girl’s heart to make a drug that would cure all diseases?’

  ‘Precisely,’ Ruby said.

  ‘And he knew about this remedy because he is the famous Danish astronomer and alchemist Tycho Brahe who lived in Prague at the end of the sixteenth century?’

  ‘That bit we’re less clear on,’ Gerald said. ‘He certainly thinks he’s Tycho Brahe. But that’s not possible.’ He looked the detective in the eye. ‘Is it?’

  The police officer flicked through his notebook. ‘Of course not.’

  Gerald looked uncertain. Ruby gave him an encouraging nod.

  ‘There is this one thing that has us puzzled,’ Gerald said. ‘About him maybe being a ghost, or something.’


  Detective Ericsson lifted his eyes. ‘Yes?’

  ‘In this church in Prague, where Brahe was supposedly buried all those years ago. There was an open grave with his name on the gravestone. And the grave was empty.’ Gerald looked embarrassed asking the question. ‘Isn’t that a bit…strange?’

  Ericsson raised an eyebrow. ‘One of the Danish universities—Aarhus, I think it was—disinterred Brahe’s body a short while ago.’

  ‘Uh, disinterred?’ Gerald said.

  ‘Dug it up,’ Ericsson said. ‘Some research project investigating whether he died of natural causes or was poisoned.’

  Ruby let out a short laugh. ‘Does a busted bladder count as natural causes?’

  ‘There have been stories that Brahe may have been poisoned with mercury,’ Ericsson said. ‘A little in his food over a period of time. He would have been in contact with mercury in his alchemy experiments so it would be a clever way for an assassin to kill him and get away undetected.’

  ‘A patient assassin,’ Ruby said.

  ‘So Brahe’s grave was empty because the body had been dug up by researchers?’ Gerald said.

  ‘That’s right,’ the policeman said. ‘Not because he is what you might call a zombie.’

  Gerald chuckled to himself. ‘Sam will be disappointed.’

  ‘What about the other grave in Hadanka?’ Ruby said. ‘That had Brahe’s name on it as well.’

  ‘I had one of my men make some calls about that. Tycho Brahe had many children. He named one of his sons after himself. Your friend broke into the grave of Tycho Brahe junior.’

  ‘Believe me,’ Gerald said. ‘He’s no friend of mine.’

  ‘Who is he then?’ Ruby asked. She glanced at the man who had nearly stolen her life. He sat haggard, and sweating, behind the bars.

  ‘We’ll find out,’ Ericsson said. ‘Even billionaires can’t cover their tracks completely.’

  Ruby winced as she moved her injured wrist. ‘Detective, is there any way we can make a phone call? I’d really like to talk to my mum and dad.’