The Lucifer Code

by Charles Brokaw

  ‘That would be great.’

  ‘In the meantime, want to share a cab to the hotel and get a drink at the bar?’ she asked.

  ‘That sounds fantastic,’ Lourds agreed. ‘But I’m supposed to have a car waiting for me.’

  ‘Someone’s coming to pick you up?’

  ‘Yes. A limo service.’ Lourds reached into his shirt pocket and took out the 3 x 5 index card his graduate assistant had filled out with his itinerary. Everything was there in neat, precise handwriting. But it was so small he had to squint.

  ‘Professor Lourds!’ a man’s voice sang out. ‘Over here.’

  Turning in the direction of the hail, Lourds spotted a sleek dark blue Mercedes and a liveried driver standing beside it with a placard that read: PROFESSOR THOMAS LOURDS. The limousine was parked at the front of the line of waiting cabs.

  Lourds waved his arm to acknowledge the man.

  The driver waved back, then walked behind the vehicle, opened the trunk, and threw the placard inside.

  ‘Over there,’ Lourds told the young porter handling his bags. He turned to Kristine. ‘Unless I miss my guess, there will be cocktails aboard.’

  Kristine gazed at the limousine for a moment, then back at Lourds. But she wasn’t smiling and her face tightened. ‘Well, that was somewhat unexpected.’

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ Lourds said. ‘Maybe offering to share my limo was presumptuous of me. I’d hate to upset you.’

  ‘I believe you, Professor Lourds. And that’s a shame. You seem like a really nice guy.’ The flirtatious air dropped away like a costume, revealing a determined young woman on a mission.

  Not liking the sudden change in her attitude and unsure what had triggered it, Lourds stepped away from her. But before his back foot touched down, she reached out and caught his hand in hers.

  ‘We’re going to be taking my car,’ Kristine said.

  Lourds tried to yank his hand away but wasn’t able to pull free. She was stronger than she looked. Something very strange was going on here. He was starting to get spooked. He reached for her wrist with his other hand. He’d never studied martial arts, not even after the trouble he’d got into while finding Atlantis. No time and he’d figured he wasn’t likely to need those skills again. He’d clearly been wrong there. But breaking holds was all about leverage. He was bigger and stronger than this young woman. And, he hoped, faster.

  Before he could make his move, she caught his free hand in hers and folded it in towards his wrist in some weird movement. He felt electrifying agony rip up his arm and crash through his brain. The next thing he knew, he’d dropped to his knees on the hard concrete.

  What the hell was happening here? One thing he was certain of, this girl was hardly the simple fan she’d told him she was.

  ‘Are you listening to me, Professor Lourds?’ Kristine whispered in his ear.

  It took Lourds a moment to remember how to work his mouth and voice. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. You’re going to get up when I tell you to and follow me. You’re going to do that without resisting. If you resist, I’m going to break your arm. Do you understand?’

  Lourds didn’t hesitate. The pain was too strong to resist. ‘Yes. Of course.’

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  2

  Lourds yelped as Kristine pulled him up by his trapped arm, his wrist still bent in the form of a dying swan. A few of the passers-by saw what was going on and backed away. Lourds staggered ahead of Kristine – if that was really her name – as she pushed him forward. Black spots danced before his eyes and he felt certain he was going to pass out.

  His thoughts raced. He had always been like that. No matter what happened to him or around him, his mind worked to ferret out answers to puzzles. The young woman’s stalking and kidnapping of him – he didn’t want to think this might be the prelude to a murder – was certainly something he hadn’t expected to face upon his arrival in Istanbul. It was a puzzle, all right, possibly a lethal one. He needed to find a way out.

  ‘Are you positive you have the right person?’ Lourds asked.

  Kristine twisted his arm and increased the pain for a moment.

  Lourds’ knees wobbled and very nearly went out from under him. Sweat broke out across his face and he blinked back tears.

  ‘Silence, Professor. We do this quietly and we do it quickly. Talking is not an option.’

  A bear-sized man wearing a Green Bay Packers football jersey stepped towards Lourds. A large woman and two cub-sized boys trailed in his wake.

  ‘Hey, buddy,’ the bear-sized man said with an American accent, ‘you okay? Need some help?’ He glanced at Kristine. ‘Hey, miss, if you need some help with your dad, I’d be happy to do it. I’m a paramedic.’

  Dad? Lourds thought in mortification.

  ‘A lot of guys get sick overseas their first time,’ the big man said. ‘They can’t handle the local hooch so well.’

  Damn that wine. Lourds thought he must reek of it if this guy had noticed the smell. But the man wasn’t quite the paramedic he thought he was if he couldn’t tell the difference between someone in pain and someone who was wasted.

  ‘We don’t need any help,’ Kristine replied smoothly, giving Lourds a shove. ‘My father and I are fine. Thanks for the offer.’

  ‘You ask me,’ the man said, ‘your dad doesn’t look so fine.’ He took another step towards them and reached for Lourds.

  Hope sprang up in Lourds as he realized they were starting to draw attention to themselves. Surely someone would call the police. The police in Turkish tourist areas were abundant and meant business. When they showed up this whole situation would be resolved. He only hoped his arm wouldn’t get broken in the meantime.

  Kristine didn’t even bat an eye. She slid her other hand up to join her first on Lourds’ wrist. Smooth metal caressed his palm but he had no clue what it was. Then she forced him to lift his arm and point it at the man. A harsh click sounded from under his hand and was followed by an eerie humming noise.

  Two thin cords suddenly ran from Lourds’ hand to the bear-sized man. It looked a bit, the professor thought vaguely, like Spider-Man shooting his webbing.

  The bear-sized man looked down at the wires protruding from his chest and abdomen. ‘Ow!’ he yelled. ‘What the hell did you just do?’

  Lourds wanted to tell the man that he’d done nothing, but he knew Kristine would damage him for breaking her rules about talking. The bear-shaped man reached for the wires.

  Then he started convulsing, twitching, and jerking. His head shook back and forth violently.

  ‘Hey, Mom,’ one of the cub-shaped kids said. ‘Dad’s breakdancing.’

  ‘He hasn’t even been drinking this time,’ the other cub put in.

  ‘Harold!’ the large woman exclaimed. ‘What do you think you’re doing? Get back over here and leave those people alone. Harold! Are you even listening to me?’

  Harold quit convulsing, twitching and jerking. He fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He tumbled forwards and lay spread-eagled on the concrete. A waiting cab braked to a sudden halt only inches from him.

  ‘Harold!’ the woman screamed.

  ‘Dad!’ the cubs screamed.

  Other people started screaming. The level of general confusion escalated to the point that Lourds was suddenly lost in a sea of upset people. If Kristine hadn’t been holding onto his hand with such dogged purpose, Lourds felt positive he could have escaped.

  ‘Oh my God!’ the big woman yelled, pulling at the wires in her husband’s chest. ‘He’s killed my husband! That man’s killed my husband!’ She pointed accusingly at Lourds.

  ‘No,’ Lourds protested automatically. ‘No, I didn’t! It was – urfff!’ Pain stole away his breath and he nearly dropped to his knees again. Kristine kept her grip on his hand and grabbed his collar as well.

  He tried to struggle, but to no avail. The girl knew what she was doing.

  ‘Move, Professor Lourds,’ she ordered. ‘As amusing as it would b
e to watch you get arrested for this, I have plans for you.’

  A million questions flooded Lourds’ mind, but he didn’t ask any of them. He kept moving, mostly in a straight line, out into the next street.

  ‘Can you see me?’ Kristine asked.

  Lourds hesitated, remembered the orders not to speak, and looked back over his shoulder at his captor.

  ‘Can you see me?’ Kristine repeated.

  ‘No,’ Lourds answered. ‘No, not well. It’s an awkward angle.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Kristine said to him. ‘I wasn’t talking to you.’

  Lourds shut up. He glanced back at the bear-shaped man and saw with relief that the man was starting to stir. He looked incredibly confused. Lourds knew exactly how he felt.

  Behind the downed paramedic, three men were shoving their way through the crowd. They pointed at Kristine and Lourds and then reached inside their suits. That wasn’t, Lourds decided, a hopeful sign.

  Kristine cursed and Lourds couldn’t help but think the young woman had quite the mouth on her. ‘I’ve got company,’ she said. ‘Three men.’

  Then the men brandished weapons. The flesh and blood barrier separating them from Lourds and the young woman evaporated. Pedestrians and cab drivers screamed in terror. People dived for cover among the cars and kiosks.

  Kristine yanked Lourds into motion, pushing him across the street at a run. A car swerved to avoid them, crashing into one of the parked cabs. Lourds’ boots crunched over shattered glass that sprayed across the street from the crash. He hoped none of it had managed to injure anybody – including him.

  ‘No,’ Kristine retorted angrily, though Lourds hadn’t said a word, ‘I don’t know who they are. Evidently your little surprise party has a leak somewhere. Where’s that car?’

  She yanked Lourds to a halt, nearly choking him on his own shirt. He gagged reflexively. To his right, a silver SUV squealed round a corner, barrelling straight for them. Pedestrians tried to get out of the way, but one of them was too slow and the vehicle collided with him, knocking him to the side. He rolled, then staggered to his feet, clutching his arm.

  Lourds cursed in three languages, remembered that he wasn’t supposed to talk, then realized he was probably going to get that broken arm, thanks to his lack of control. He braced himself for the excruciating pain. Instead, the SUV skidded to a halt in front of Lourds and Kristine. The passenger door swung open and a hulking man reached out and caught Lourds by his shirt front.

  ‘Get in,’ Kristine ordered, pushing him from behind.

  The hulking man yanked Lourds into the SUV as if he were weightless. The professor banged his knees against the transom, but the pain was only an echo of what was being done to his wrist. Unable to keep his balance, Lourds tumbled into the vehicle and sprawled on the floor.

  Twisting his head to see who his new captor was, Lourds looked at the big man just in time to see the top of his left ear explode in a crimson burst. Blood speckled the window behind his captor, a window that now had a thumb-sized hole punched through it.

  ‘They’re shooting at us!’ Lourdes screamed.

  More bullets tore through other windows and the sound of bullets rang out against the SUV’s body. The big man pulled a machine pistol from under his suit jacket. He pushed Lourds’ head into the carpet with one hand while he aimed the machine pistol with the other.

  ‘Smart guy, isn’t he?’ the hulking man asked. He returned fire as blood streamed down the side of his face and neck.

  ‘He’s a university professor,’ Kristine said. ‘I don’t think he can help himself.’ She threw herself into the SUV, stepping on Lourds’ butt and spine in the process. She slapped the SUV’s driver on the back of the head. ‘Go!’

  The SUV jerked into motion. Tyres squealed in protest and fought for traction. Lourds’ face banged against the floor as the vehicle bounded over an obstruction. He hoped it wasn’t another pedestrian. Another fusillade of bullets took out the SUV’s rear window. Chunks of safety glass sprayed over Lourds. For the first time in months, he regretted longing for some enterprise as exciting as his search for Atlantis.

  Memories of all those near-death experiences that had accompanied the excitement flashed through his head. What the hell was I thinking?

  Now he had kidnappings, bullets and people screaming again.

  What the bloody blazes had gone wrong? This wasn’t supposed to be happening like this! Dammit, he was supposed to be having fun!

  Central Intelligence Agency

  Langley, Virginia

  United States of America

  15 March 2010

  Special Agent in Charge James Dawson stood in front of an immense high-definition wallscreen and glared at the events unfolding at Ataturk International Airport. Wounded people flopped on the ground and blood streaked the concrete. And every one of them endangered the career he’d built up over the last seventeen years.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, he growled to himself. It was supposed to be a cakewalk. Easy in, easy out. No muss, no fuss.

  They’d replaced the limousine driver with one of their assets. The three men who’d chased the SUV on foot and shot up the airport couldn’t be linked to the Agency even if they got picked up by the police – whether they were still alive or merely corpses. They’d been hired through a blind. That at least gave him enough room for denial in case anything came home to roost. But he’d planned on the op being invisible, not deniable.

  Several technicians hunkered over their computer workstations at the table behind him. Dawson felt them waiting expectantly for his commands, just as they had on previous operations.

  ‘Give me the best image you have of the woman with Lourds,’ Dawson ordered.

  Immediately, a section of the wallscreen separated from the ongoing live action. A split second later, the image of the young woman filled the space. Due to the last-minute notice they’d had of the assignment, the team had barely managed to change the chauffeur and hack into the airport’s security camera systems. It would have been much easier to take Professor Thomas Lourds while he’d been in the United States. Exactly why his boss wanted to detain the professor, much less take him out overseas, remained a mystery to Dawson. He didn’t plan to ask for answers, though. Dawson’s advancement had relied on doing whatever his superior wanted without question.

  In the wallscreen image, the woman appeared concerned but not totally surprised.

  Had she been expecting interference? Dawson wondered. Or was she just that confident about her skills? He watched her navigating through the crowd, then shoving Lourds into the SUV.

  ‘If she’s that good,’ Dawson wondered, ‘why don’t we know who she is?’

  ‘We’re searching, sir,’ one of the female techs replied. ‘If we knew where to search first, we could get the name sooner.’

  Onscreen, someone inside the SUV fired a machine pistol in controlled bursts. Two of the three pursuers went down, as well as a handful of innocent bystanders.

  Dawson cursed again. Whoever had Lourds was as determined to get and keep the professor as Dawson was.

  ‘Keep looking,’ Dawson snapped. ‘She must have picked Lourds up somewhere on the way to Istanbul.’ Otherwise this other team would have spirited the professor away earlier. Knowing why everybody wanted the professor would have been useful. ‘If these people had had a team in place in Boston, this woman wouldn’t have been the only person picking Lourds up. Rerun the part where she takes control of Lourds – where she grabs his hand and forces him to follow her.’

  Another section opened up on the screen. Footage of the grappling move filled the space.

  ‘Enhance that,’ Dawson ordered.

  The image magnified.

  Dawson immediately recognized the hold. ‘She knows martial arts. Plus she’s not looking out for the police, which makes me think she’s not wanted in Turkey at least. She’s good at close-contact work. She’s cool under fire. C’mon, people, we’re looking for someone on a short list some
where. Someone this good, someone female, can’t be that hard to find. She’s got to be a pro.’

  Onscreen, the two pursuers on the ground weren’t getting up. Blood soaked the front of their shirts and pants.

  Idiots! Dawson thought. They didn’t even wear Kevlar. Of course, no one had had any reason to expect what had taken place. It was supposed to be a simple pick up, not a fire fight. He focused on the SUV fleeing down the street.

  ‘Can you get the car registration?’ Dawson asked.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Another section of the wallscreen opened up and showed an image of the SUV’s rear. The magnification increased steadily until the number could be read.

  ‘Who owns that vehicle?’ Dawson asked.

  ‘Checking now, sir.’

  Furious, Dawson paced the floor. He felt for his cellphone inside his jacket just over his heart. He resisted the impulse to see if his supervisor had called. The phone was set to vibrate not ring so only he would know a call was coming through. He stopped himself from pulling the phone out. He would have known if it had rung. For the last eight years, he’d been aware of the instrument and how closely it tied into his rapid advancement.

  ‘The SUV’s licensed to a messenger and courier service in Istanbul,’ one of the technicians said. ‘Strait Messengers. They’re located near the Galata Bridge in the Eminonu District.’

  Dawson didn’t know where the Galata Bridge was or how many districts there were in Istanbul. All that mattered was that his people could find the location.

  He paced the floor some more, weighing his options. He refused to panic. His mentor hadn’t chosen him because he froze under pressure.

  ‘Get the address to Red Team,’ Dawson said. ‘If this vehicle wasn’t stolen and those people kidnapped Lourds, they may take him there. And if they don’t, someone there may still know where the professor is. Tell them to find Lourds for me, or find someone who knows where he is.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Angrily, Dawson raked his gaze over the images of the woman, the dead men and the fleeing SUV. He was behind in the chase, but he wasn’t out of it.