The Chaos Code

by Justin Richards

  ‘Thanks. That’s …’

  But Matt didn’t finish. Smith had already moved past Matt and gave Robin a hug. She kissed him on both cheeks, and Matt was surprised at how he resented the attention she gave the man. Who was he, anyway? He realised that Venture was standing beside him now.

  ‘Having Mephistopheles on our side is a great help,’ he told Matt. ‘I wasn’t sure he would remember your father. He has so many things to deal with.’

  ‘What’s he do?’ Matt asked quietly.

  But Smith heard him and turned with a smile. ‘Do? Why, practically nothing. I am a facilitator, an advisor. I tell others what they should do. Heaven forbid I should have to do anything myself.’ He laughed and clapped his hands on his ample stomach. ‘I really don’t think any sort of strenuous exercise would suit me at all, do you?’ Then, just as suddenly as he had become amused, he was serious again. His glasses seemed to darken as he addressed Venture: ‘Take care, Julius,’ he said. ‘I agree with you that there is more to this than at first appears.’

  ‘Like what?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Well, that’s the question isn’t it?’ Smith told him. ‘It depends rather on what the Treasure of St John really consists of.’

  ‘If it still exists,’ Robin said.

  ‘Oh it exists all right. Otherwise there wouldn’t be all this fuss and bother. Someone is getting close to discovering the old secrets,’ he added darkly.

  ‘You what?’ Matt said.

  ‘Be on your guard,’ Smith added, ignoring Matt’s comment. ‘How long has it been windy outside?’

  It seemed a ridiculous question in the circumstances, but Venture answered it seriously. ‘Several days.’

  ‘Since before Harper came to you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Smith nodded, as if his worst fears had been confirmed. ‘Then someone knows. They know about Harper, and they knew he was coming to you. And they know something already of what they hope to discover when they find the Treasure.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ Matt wanted to know.

  ‘Ancient knowledge,’ Smith said. ‘Matters that are best left untouched.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘It’s elementary,’ Smith told him. He smiled as if this was a joke. ‘You take care now. All of you.’ He shook hands with Venture, gave a brief wave to Matt and Robin, and then left. His bodyguard followed without comment or expression.

  ‘What an odd man,’ Matt said as soon as he had gone. From outside came the sound of the cars and motorbikes starting up.

  ‘He probably thinks you’re weird too,’ Robin said. Which was pretty rich coming from her, but Matt didn’t say so.

  ‘Keep the curtains drawn and the doors shut,’ Venture told Matt and Robin. He seemed not to have heard their brief exchange of views about Smith. ‘No candles, no naked flames. Drink only when you have to, and well away from your notes and research.’ He went back into his study and closed the door.

  ‘What’s he on about?’ Matt asked Robin. ‘What is it with the candles?’

  Robin looked pale. She pulled nervously at her long dark hair. ‘Just …’ She shook her head. ‘Just be careful,’ she said.

  Chapter 8

  Doors stayed closed and curtains drawn. It made the large house seem oppressive and claustrophobic despite its size. Matt found that he was getting nervous and jumpy – paranoid, more like, he thought. He too closed doors behind him, saw vague faces in the patterns of rain spattered against the windows, and quickly drew the curtains. He felt draughts in rooms where the air was still and warm, and he caught his breath anxiously as dust stirred when a door opened.

  By the afternoon he was ready to leave the books and papers that Venture and Robin had set him to catalogue and return to Aunt Jane’s cottage. It looked more like autumn than mid-summer outside. Leaves were strewn across the lawn and the trees looked brittle and bare. The sun seemed to be struggling to make an impression through the skittering clouds and Matt wished he’d worn a coat.

  Another sound mingled with the gusting wind and creaking trees, a deep throbbing that Matt could feel reverberating inside his chest. He could see a car speeding up the driveway as if it was still on the main road. A low, silver sports car with headlights that bulged up from the sleek bonnet like the eyes of a frog. The sound of its engine grew louder and deeper as it swung round the outside curve of the drive and started up the incline towards the house.

  Matt stepped back into the porch and let the car screech to a halt outside. A shower of gravel flew from its braking wheels. The engine gave a final roar, then faded. The driver’s door opened and a woman got out. She made climbing out of the low seat seem easy and natural. She was wearing black trousers and a bright red leather jacket that perfectly matched her lipstick. She was tall and slim and confident, striding towards where Matt was standing. Her pale features were narrow and angular and her green eyes were shaped like a cat’s. The most striking thing about her was her hair. It was cut into a neat bob just above her shoulders, the ends curling back on themselves so it seemed moulded rather than brushed into shape. It was so blonde it was almost white.

  ‘You must be Matt,’ the woman said. She reached out to shake Matt’s hand, and he was surprised how icily cold her grip was. The woman tilted her head to one side as she looked at him. ‘You’re the image of your father.’ She didn’t wait for a reply, but walked briskly past him and into the house.

  • • •

  Two hours later, Matt was on a plane.

  The woman’s name was Katherine Feather, and she was Atticus Harper’s Personal Assistant. Matt could hear the capital letters as she said it. She spent twenty minutes with Venture before they all gathered again in the study.

  ‘Mr Harper is concerned,’ Katherine Feather explained. ‘It seems that somehow news has leaked out that you are working for him.’

  Venture held up his hand to stop her. ‘We are not working for Mr Harper,’ he said quietly. ‘We are working with Mr Harper. Helping him. That isn’t the same thing at all.’

  Katherine smiled thinly. ‘Whatever you say. But the point is, the opposition will now know about you.’

  ‘This mysterious opposition we hear about so much, and know about so little,’ Venture said. ‘And what can you tell us about them, Miss Feather?’

  The thin smile did not falter. ‘Not much, I’m afraid. We hear rumours, half-truths. I think Mr Harper believes it is an organised crime syndicate from Eastern Europe.’

  ‘Why would they be interested?’ Matt wondered.

  Katherine shrugged. ‘Money? It’s not my area. But the important point, surely, is that we should be on our guard.’

  ‘Are you saying we’re in danger?’ Robin asked.

  ‘Does it matter if they know?’ Matt asked. He was torn between feeling that the woman was being melodramatic, and the knowledge that Dad was missing and probably in danger. ‘We’re not giving up, not stopping.’

  ‘Of course you’re not,’ she said. ‘But Mr Harper feels that it might be appropriate at this point if he offered you his hospitality and his protection.’

  ‘Does he?’ Venture seemed amused at the idea. ‘And why is that? At this point.’

  ‘Several reasons.’ If she was irritated by the question, she gave no sign of it. ‘Mr Harper’s facilities are likely to be more secure than your own home.’

  ‘That will be the facilities where Matt’s father was working, will it?’ Robin said sarcastically. ‘He was really safe.’

  ‘And he wasn’t there when he went missing,’ Katherine said without looking away from Venture. ‘If he had been there, I imagine he would still be working, quite safely, for Mr Harper. He extends that promise of safety to you as well. As you’ll discover, our enemies – whoever they are, and however organised and well-resourced they might be – won’t be able to interfere once we arrive at Mr Harper’s residence. It is quite, quite safe and secure I promise you.’

  ‘You seem very certain of that,’ Venture said. ‘How
well-placed is that confidence, I wonder?’

  ‘Come with me, and you’ll find out,’ she replied calmly. ‘And, of course, you will have the added benefit of being able to see firsthand the documents and notes that so far you have only copies of.’

  ‘And,’ Venture told her levelly, ‘Mr Harper will have the added benefit of being able to keep an eye on us and see how the work is progressing.’

  The thin smile returned. ‘He would like to keep in touch with your progress, that’s true. You can hardly blame him for that.’

  ‘And where is Mr Harper based?’ Aunt Jane asked. ‘Assuming Mr Venture decides to accept, there will be travel arrangements.’

  ‘He has a facility in South America. In the depths of the rain forest. As I said, it’s hardly on a normal travel agent’s itinerary, and anyone looking for you is unlikely to find us. The arrangements are all taken care of. One of Mr Harper’s private planes is already at Staverton on the assumption,’ she said to Venture, ‘that you accept his invitation.’

  ‘That’s quite an assumption,’ Venture told her.

  ‘It’s quite an invitation,’ she replied.

  Matt frowned. Something she had said had struck a chord deep in his memory. Again, it was just out of reach, but it was there. Whatever had worried him earlier was still close to the surface, but still not quite close enough.

  ‘The Itzacan Palace?’ Venture was saying. He sounded impressed. ‘I’d heard Harper was working on its restoration. I would be very interested to see how his project has progressed. So, in that case, Robin and I shall be delighted to accept.’

  ‘Good. Then I shall let Mr Harper know that he has two guests for dinner tonight.’

  ‘Three guests,’ Matt said firmly. ‘I’ve got my passport in my bag. I’m coming too.’ He met Aunt Jane’s stare, saw the sadness and resignation in her eyes, and knew that while she didn’t want him to go she wouldn’t stop him.

  The plane was more like a hotel suite than a jet liner. Rather than rows of seats jammed in, there were several large leather couches arranged round the walls, and a large conference table in the middle of the cabin. A steward brought drinks and food during the long flight, and there was a huge plasma screen television hooked up to a DVD player.

  Chatting to Robin, and with the prospect of watching DVDs of the latest blockbusters, Matt could almost forget about Dad’s plight. Almost.

  ‘Have you heard of this place we’re going, this palace?’ he asked Robin while her father and Katherine Feather were talking quietly at the conference table.

  She nodded. ‘Oh yes. It’s also known as the Waterfall Pyramid.’

  ‘Why?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Because it’s a step pyramid. And it’s beside a waterfall,’ Robin said levelly.

  ‘Imaginative, then.’

  ‘It’s been hidden in the depths of the Amazon jungle for centuries. Millennia, probably. Until Harper found it a few years ago. It caused quite a stir in the archaeological world. It’s spectacular.’

  ‘That why it caused a stir?’

  ‘Not entirely. It was the way he found it that ruffled a few feathers.’

  Matt was intrigued. ‘Go on.’

  ‘There’s a theory that many ancient sites were built in specific places around the globe.’

  ‘Aligned with the sunrise and all that?’

  ‘More than that. You’ve heard of ley lines?’

  Matt had. Ley lines were supposed to be lines of some sort of force or magnetism that linked ancient sites and might explain why they were built in particular places. Some people claimed to be able to find them by dowsing, while others said they were all a load of nonsense.

  ‘Well,’ Robin went on, ‘it’s a step up from ley lines if you like. The theory suggests there might have been some ancient blueprint or plan, and that important ancient sites are built on specific points of longitude and latitude according to that blueprint.’

  ‘Sounds crazy to me,’ Matt said. ‘I mean, weren’t some of these sites built centuries apart?’

  ‘Thousands of years apart. You know the North Pole has moved?’ she asked.

  Matt seemed to remember something about it. ‘Didn’t it used to be over in northern Canada or something, in Hudson Bay? Like thousands of years ago.’

  ‘That’s right. And if you measure the angle between the old pole and the current position of the North Pole from Stonehenge, you find it’s 46 degrees.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So Stonehenge is located at a latitude of 46 degrees.’

  ‘Coincidence.’

  She shrugged. ‘Perhaps. We mentioned Rosslyn this morning. The angle from Rosslyn is 50 degrees.’

  ‘And am I right in guessing that Rosslyn’s latitude is also 50 degrees?’

  ‘Absolutely. So maybe the newer monuments are built on sites that were already identified and special. Like Canterbury Cathedral which gives an angle and a latitude of 45 degrees, and is built on the site of an ancient pagan temple. Or maybe …’

  ‘What? he prompted.

  ‘Maybe they really were according to some grand plan or other.’

  Matt laughed. ‘You can probably take a dozen sites and prove there’s some sort of relationship between their locations,’ he said. ‘You can prove anything with numbers and maths.’

  ‘True. Which is why Harper tried a different approach. There have been a few people before, like Rand Flem-Ath, who have worked out where key positions should be and then checked to see if there’s an ancient site there.’

  ‘Sort of reverse engineering.’

  ‘Sort of. What Harper did was to take a site in the middle of nowhere, a set of coordinates where according to the model there should be something, but there isn’t. Or at least, no one could tell that there was, not from satellite pictures anyway. And you couldn’t easily go there and see.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because,’ Robin said, ‘the site was in the middle of the Brazilian jungle.’

  ‘Ah,’ Matt understood now. ‘This place we’re headed to now. That’s how he found it?’

  ‘He spent a fortune on an expedition. Everyone, or nearly everyone, said he was mad. He went there, and sure enough, underneath what turns out to be the third biggest waterfall in the world, he found the Itzacan Palace.’

  Matt was grinning, suddenly excited. ‘And we’re going there?’

  Robin was grinning too. ‘We’re going there.’

  Matt had been on planes before, but apart from a holiday in Florida with his mum a couple of years before, he’d not been on such a long flight. He doubted that twelve hours in a commercial airliner would have passed so pleasantly as the time in Harper’s jet. He was tired and they were flying through the night. He knew there would be a long journey once they left the plane, so after talking to Robin and watching a movie on DVD – a blockbuster that wasn’t even out in the cinema in Britain yet – Matt tried to get some sleep.

  The lights were dimmed for the middle hours of the flight. But Matt found his mind was alive with the excitement and novelty of it all. He felt guilty at enjoying himself when Dad could be in deadly danger. But there was nothing he could do about it. Everyone else seemed to have gone to sleep. Robin must be exhausted after working through much of the previous night, and even her father seemed to be taking a nap.

  At last Matt slipped into a doze. He woke several times, and thought that he could not have slept much at all. But when he woke again and checked his watch he found he’d been asleep for nearly three hours. The main cabin lights had come back on, and the sound of the engines changed as the plane started to descend into Rio de Janeiro.

  Through the windows, Matt could see the famous statue of Christ standing, arms outstretched, above the city. Skyscrapers rose against a backdrop of ragged mountains. Modern and ancient thrust together.

  Matt was disappointed that they weren’t spending any time in the city. But that disappointment was tempered by his desire to get on with finding the Treasure of St John – with finding
Dad. He followed Robin down the steps from the plane, and the heat hit him with a physical intensity. He hoped that Harper had installed air conditioning in his ancient palace.

  After a brief wait in a private lounge in the airport, they continued the journey by helicopter. The contrast could not have been greater – from relaxing, luxurious space to a noisy, cramped cabin. Matt was jammed between Robin and Katherine Feather. Whenever he moved, he rubbed against one of them and became more and more embarrassed. When he felt the urge to scratch his ankle, it became a major operation watched by the others with undisguised amusement.

  But the view was worth the discomfort of a few hours. Right from the noisy, shuddering take-off, Matt was transfixed. He was glad he was sitting in the middle now, as he had a good view out of both sides of the helicopter. On the one side he could see the golden sand of the beach, covered with tiny people sunbathing. On the other was the view of the mountains. It seemed to take forever to rise up high enough to fly over the hills and mountains and leave Rio behind. The roads became fewer and narrower, the mountains even more craggy, the open spaces larger and wider. Soon any sign of civilisation was rare. Matt had lost all track of time as they dipped between mountains, flew along a narrow valley, over a lake … And there stretched out in all directions was the green and brown carpet of the rain forest.

  They had been flying low over the jungle for a while. It was like skimming over heads of broccoli, the vegetation was so dense. There were occasional breaks, rivers and streams, even once a narrow road snaking through. But for the most part the jungle was an unbroken carpet of green and brown.

  Then suddenly, the vegetation seemed to surge upwards. A mountain thrust up out of the jungle, its top a ragged plateau as if it had been bitten off. The jungle clung to the slopes, so that until they were relatively close it was hidden against the backdrop of the jungle floor. There was what looked like a small rectangle of grey at the base of the mountain. It was only as they approached that Matt realised how enormous this clearing was – like a giant patio in the middle of a neglected garden.

  Closer still, the rotors throbbing through the thick earphones Matt was wearing, and the grey resolved itself into stone. And on the stone stood broken walls and ruined buildings. The helicopter banked, throwing Matt heavily against Robin. But neither of them noticed. They were staring out of the cabin window.