Harper himself was sitting in front of the desk, a metal briefcase standing close to his feet. He was a big man – tall and broad-shouldered, but not overweight. He seemed to be composed entirely of greys. His hair was steel grey, his suit was dark grey. His long face seemed somewhere between the two. Even his eyes were a blue-grey. His bloodless lips twitched faintly, but whether into the ghost of a smile or a sneer it was difficult to tell.
He angled his chair so he could speak to Matt as well as Julius Venture. There were a couple of other upright chairs against the wall beside the door. One of them, Matt could see, was hinged at the back and he guessed it opened out to form a set of library steps. Robin sat on that when she returned with Aunt Jane, who took the slightly larger chair. For Aunt Jane’s benefit, Venture introduced Atticus Harper, and they all waited expectantly for him to speak.
Sitting in front of the desk, Harper had looked almost like an animated corpse – devoid of colour or much expression. But as he spoke, he seemed to come to life and Matt saw something of his own father’s enthusiasm and excitement rise to the surface. He felt that he understood the man’s passion, what drove him, and he found himself caught up in the story and the mystery and the emotion of it all.
‘Forgive me if you know something of this,’ Harper said, his voice rich and deep, ‘but a story needs its background and beginning. And the start of our tale is in the Fourth Crusade, when in 1198 Pope Innocent III called for the Christians to invade Egypt … But he had a problem, because the Crusaders couldn’t afford to pay for transport. So it was agreed that the ships for the enterprise would be provided by Venice. Which was all well and good, except that the Venetians traded with Egypt. So they weren’t too keen on attacking their business partners. Given the choice, they’d far rather have attacked their biggest rivals – the Byzantine Empire.
‘So, being pragmatic as well as more than a little devious, that’s what they did. Since they couldn’t pay for the ships, the Crusaders were forced to agree that instead of attacking Egypt they would take the city of Zara, and then move against the Byzantine capital – Constantinople.
‘The story of the siege is long and bloody and complicated, and it needn’t concern us. But in 1204, a year after it fell to the attackers, Constantinople was ransacked. The destruction and the looting were terrible, and much of what survived that was worth anything was taken back to Venice. But not the Treasure of St John.
‘There was a knight, known as Sir Robert of Lisle though he may have been Italian or French or even English given his apparent title. Accounts vary. When Constantinople first fell, in 1203, he was charged with compiling a register of all that was precious in the city. No, not the gold and silver, not the artwork and precious stones. The literature – the scrolls and books and parchments and tablets. The idea was to create an inventory of all the learning that survived in the ancient city. And when the massacres and the looting started on April thirteenth 1204, it is said that Sir Robert and seven of his comrades-in-arms each took a page of the register and went through the city locating and saving the items on their list.
‘I imagine them, you know. Sometimes, I see them in my dreams – going from door to door, from private house to public building, palace to library. Walking tall amid the chaos, silhouetted against the blood-red sky as the city burns around them and they struggle to save its very heart. Its learning. Its wisdom. Working ruthlessly and methodically through their list, putting to the sword anyone who gets in their way. Oh the sword may not be as mighty as the pen, but there are times when the one comes to the service of the other.
‘Because these men were all Knights Hospitallers – members of the Hospital, or Order, of St John of Jerusalem. Originally the order was a charitable one, set up to care for pilgrims who became sick in the Holy Land. But by the fall of Constantinople they were not just men of learning out to help others. The Hospitallers were a military as well as a religious order, and Sir Robert and his colleagues fought their way out, taking what they had recovered with them.
‘Accounts vary. Some say that two of the knights were killed in Constantinople during those three days of bloodshed. Others say that three of them died. But all agree that Sir Robert and several of the others escaped, and took with them the literary treasures of Constantinople as well as an unspecified amount of more traditional treasure.
‘What happened to this treasure afterwards is surprisingly well documented, though still we have no inventory – which is ironic given how Sir Robert came to acquire it in the first place. In 1291, when Acre was lost and the Knights Hospitallers were forced to move their headquarters to Limassol in Cyprus, the treasure went with them. It is listed in their records as “Numerous items of value and wisdom acquired by Robert de Lisle et al.” It is noted that three carts were set aside for transporting the treasure.
‘In 1309, when the Hospitallers again moved, this time to Rhodes, there is no explicit mention of the treasure. But there is a “collection of items” that again took three carts to transport, and which is the only set of goods that is not otherwise accounted for from previous inventories or known acquisitions.
‘However, there the trail ends. Or almost. There is one last tantalising mention of Sir Robert’s treasure. In 1523 the Hospitallers were expelled from Rhodes by the Turks. In the process of leaving they were forced to abandon much – and there is mention in the journal written by one of the knights, one Edward Duboeuf, that another knight – Henri Sivel – had been forced to surrender “that which should never have been returned” to the Turks and which Henri subsequently vowed to retrieve.
‘That was what intrigued your father, Matt. He thought this was a loose end of the trail he could follow up. And, I have to tell you, he was making considerable progress. Before he disappeared …’
There was silence when Harper had finished. Eventually, Aunt Jane spoke.
‘What do you mean, disappeared?’
‘Hasn’t young Matt told you?’ Harper said.
‘Well, yes. But if I know Arnie, he’s just wandered off on some expedition and forgotten to mention it.’
Harper smiled thinly. ‘Yes, he is a bit like that, isn’t he? But I’m afraid it isn’t that simple.’
‘Perhaps you’d like to explain,’ Venture told him.
‘Yes,’ Matt said. ‘Perhaps you would.’ He had been caught up in Harper’s tale, but now he felt numb, wondering what the point of it really was – how it related to Dad.
‘The Treasure of St John has never attracted much real attention, except as a sort of academic amusement,’ Harper said. ‘But it has always struck me that its worth is far greater than diamonds or gold. Think of it …’ He leaned forward, his blue-grey eyes suddenly coming alive as they caught the light. ‘Think of it, the knowledge and wisdom of the ancients, codified and collected. Oh yes, there might be precious stones and metals and trinkets and relics. But think what we could discover.’ He leaned back again, hands out in front of him as if begging his audience to share in his excitement. ‘They say the writings include the secret of alchemy, which of course they won’t. They say they include notes on the knowledge held secret by the ancients. How the pyramids were built, the heavens mapped, the purpose of Stonehenge … Perhaps even a clue to the location of …’
Harper paused, staring past Matt into the distance. Then he blinked, and was suddenly once more in the present. ‘Of who knows what …’ he said. ‘But we can be sure that whatever is written in those books and on those parchments will fundamentally change the way we see the ancient world and our place in the modern one.’
‘What about Matt’s dad?’ Robin said levelly.
‘I’m sorry? Of course. What am I thinking of?’ Harper stood up. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced to and fro in front of Venture’s desk. ‘I engaged Doctor Stribling to find me the Treasure. I knew his reputation – I’d read a paper of his about the fall of Constantinople in 1543 and there was a mention in it of Henri Sivel that intrigued me.’ He stopped pacing,
and fixed his attention fully on Matt. ‘Your father agreed to work for me, and he seemed to be making good progress …’
‘And then?’ Matt prompted.
Harper sighed. ‘And then he was gone.’
‘But gone where?’ Aunt Jane asked.
It was Venture who answered. ‘Who else is interested in this Treasure of St John?’ he asked.
His voice was quiet, but his words were enough for Harper to sit down again. He looked tired and pale. ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘There are others. I don’t know who exactly, but it was clear to me almost from the outset that there are others, other… forces involved. They also want the Treasure. But not for the purpose of wisdom and learning, you can be sure of that. Should they find it, the collection would be broken up, sold off in secret, destroyed.’
His expression changed, and Matt realised with surprise that the man was suddenly furious.
‘That must not happen!’ Harper insisted.
Matt was feeling strangely distant. It was like he was watching Harper on a stage, in a play. Not really there … ‘And, my father …?’ he heard himself ask, though he already knew what Harper would say. ‘What has all this to do with Dad? Who are these other people – this other force?’
‘I don’t know,’ Harper confessed. ‘Not exactly. But I do know that they are people who want to find the Treasure for themselves, not for the good of humanity as a whole,’ Harper said. ‘They are interested in its material value, not what we can learn from it – about the ancient world, and about ourselves. They know of my passion and of your father’s progress.’ He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. ‘In answer to your other question – the more important question for you, I assume …’ Harper sighed. ‘Well, I believe that your father is now working for these misguided people.’
‘But he would never do that,’ Matt said, feeling the anger rise within him. ‘If what you say about them is true, Dad would never agree to help them.’
‘I didn’t say he was doing it willingly,’ Harper told him. ‘Your father has disappeared, without explanation or even a suitcase. They have taken him. Whoever these despicable people are, they have kidnapped Doctor Stribling to force him to find the Treasure of St John for them.’
‘And if he won’t help them?’ Aunt Jane asked, her voice husky and fearful. ‘If he refuses?’
Harper sighed. ‘Then I expect they will kill him.’
Chapter 6
‘You didn’t know that Matt, or Miss Stribling for that matter, were here,’ Julius Venture said. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the top of the desk and hands clasped together.
‘That is true,’ Harper admitted.
Venture unclasped his hands. ‘So why come to me?’
Harper considered this carefully before answering. The room was silent, all eyes on him. ‘I have known for some time,’ he said at last, ‘that there might be – what shall we say? Competition? Knowing that, it would have been irresponsible of me not to warn Doctor Stribling. I suggested that he might want to take precautions, as I did myself. I offered him a bodyguard, for example. Which he refused.’
Matt heard Aunt Jane’s heavy sigh from across the room. Like her, he wasn’t surprised that Dad had refused to have a bodyguard. He would have laughed off the suggestion.
‘But,’ Harper went on, ‘we did discuss what to do in the case of various events. I had my IT people model, simulate, several scenarios.’
‘On computers?’ Matt said. He shouldn’t be surprised at this, he realised. After all, Harper had made his fortune out of computer research and manufacturing.
‘That’s right. Your father was not, I think, as excited as I am at the opportunities the new technologies offer for archaeology.’
‘I bet,’ Matt said quietly. Dad saw computers as tools. He understood what they could do, but he had never been excited by technology – unlike Matt or Mum. He had once told Matt that when the technology becomes more interesting than what you’re trying to do with it then you’re in the wrong business. It was a sentiment that Matt could understand, but he wasn’t sure he entirely agreed with it. And Harper seemed to be a good example of how to combine two passions to the benefit of both.
‘The long and the short of it is,’ Harper was saying, ‘that we discussed what to do in the eventuality that Doctor Stribling disappeared or was captured. And he was very clear on his advice.’
‘Which was what?’ Robin prompted.
‘First that I should continue to try to find the Treasure of St John no matter what threats might be made, though I have to say so far there have been none. And second, that I should come to you for help.’ He turned to face Venture across the desk. ‘Doctor Stribling was most insistent that after himself, you are the person best qualified to find the Treasure.’
Venture said nothing, his expression remained set and unreadable.
Harper smiled. ‘It did rather surprise me, I confess. I had heard of you of course, have even bid against you at several auctions though I don’t think either of us was actually there. But I had no idea of the esteem which Doctor Stribling holds you in. No idea of your breadth and depth of expertise. Tell me, are you the man for the job?’
Venture leaned back in his chair. The fingers of his right hand drummed a thoughtful rhythm on the desk. ‘You know,’ he said at last, ‘in archaeology as in so many others areas, there are some things which should be left well alone.’
Harper frowned. ‘You mean the Treasure of St John?’
‘Who can say? But given that others are not willing to let it lie wherever it is hidden … Yes, I’ll help you. And yes, as Doctor Stribling very well knows, I am the man for the job. Not least because – like everyone else here – I want to find him and make sure he is safe.’
Harper exhaled heavily. His smile became a short, sharp burst of laughter – relief rather than amusement. ‘Oh I quite agree. Thank goodness for that. You know Arnold well?’
‘We lived locally when we were children,’ Aunt Jane said. ‘Arnold has known Julius all his life. And Robin …’ She stopped, shrugged. ‘Well, as I say, we grew up here.’
Harper nodded. ‘Of course, Robin. Your lovely daughter,’ he said to Venture. Matt saw that Robin scowled at the compliment. Harper seemed not to notice. ‘Doctor Stribling mentioned you,’ he said turning back to look at Robin.
‘Did he?’ Her frown deepened. Her eyes flicked to her father, just for a split-second. Just long enough for Venture to give the merest hint of a shake of the head. ‘What did he say?’
Harper was lifting his briefcase on to the desk. It was heavy, metal, like the sort of case a photographer might keep his equipment in. Or an assassin. ‘He said to say hello if I met you.’ Harper clicked the locking wheels on the case round to set a combination. ‘He said to tell you he remembers your mother.’
Matt was looking at Robin now. He wanted to say something – to plead for them to stop the small talk and get on with finding Dad. But something in Robin’s expression kept him quiet, as Harper opened the case and went on: ‘He said to say he remembers your christening in the church on the estate.’
Robin’s face was blank. All trace of the frown was gone. ‘That’s nice of him,’ she said, and her voice was as expressionless as her face.
Across the room, on the other side of the desk, a nerve ticked for a moment in Venture’s cheek. His lips seemed to tighten and his eyes narrowed. Then abruptly he was on his feet, reaching across to shake Harper’s hand.
‘We shall do all we can to help,’ he said sincerely. ‘You’ve convinced me that this is of the utmost urgency and importance.’
‘Thank you.’ Harper had taken several discs from the case. They looked like computer CDs, in narrow slipcases, labelled in black marker pen. It looked like Dad’s handwriting. ‘This is a copy of everything that Doctor Stribling found or noted or sketched. Absolutely everything. I had it all scanned on to DVD for you.’
‘Excellent.’ Venture took the discs and placed them on the desk close to h
is computer screen.
Harper handed him a sheaf of papers, computer printouts. ‘Here’s a list of everything on the discs with brief explanatory notes. There are facsimiles and scans of everything relevant. There’s Doctor Stribling’s handwritten notes, copies of all the historical papers he referenced, three-dimensional models of artefacts he felt were relevant. Everything. You will keep me aware of your progress?’
‘I’ll contact you as soon as we find anything,’ Venture assured him.
‘Thank you. And anything you need – access to anything at all, contacts, money …’ He left the offer hanging.
‘We’ll let you know,’ Venture said.
Harper shook hands solemnly with Matt and the others before he left. His grip was tight and confident, but his hand was cold and clammy. ‘We’ll find him,’ Harper said quietly to Matt. ‘Believe me. We’ll get your father back.’
They stood on the porch and watched the helicopter lift ponderously from the lawn. It gathered speed as it rose before swivelling on its axis, dipping its nose and disappearing into the clouds.
‘My study,’ Venture said. ‘I believe there are a few things we need to discuss.’
Soon they were settled back into the seats they had so recently left. The exception was Robin, who took the chair across the desk from her father – where Harper had previously sat.
‘Do you believe him?’ Aunt Jane asked. ‘About Arnie?’
Venture was swinging slowly back and forth in his chair. ‘Yes and no,’ he said. ‘Yes, your brother …’ He paused to look at Matt. ‘Your father … Yes, he’s missing and may be in danger.’
The Chaos Code Page 7
