Tales from the Voynich Manuscript and the Island of Jan Mayen

by Alexander Copperwhite

  "The two of you have two hours before I alert the police."

  "Thanks a lot, Mark. I can assure you you're doing the right thing."

  "I certainly hope so," he said and stood up.

  He climbed up a couple of stairs and then stopped dead in his tracks. He noticed that he had goosebumps and something was making the hair on his arms stand on end as if a magnet was attracting them.

  "What's going on here?" he muttered.

  He tilted his head to one side, drawn by the crystal globe. He went back down the stairs, walked over to the bed and stretched his hand out to touch it. The feeling of gentleness that enveloped him penetrated throughout his entire body, soothing him completely, as if he had regressed back to his childhood days and was being hugged by his parents.

  Without ever touching the globe, he turned around and approached the table.

  "You two are playing with fire," he whispered without looking them directly in the eye and went back up the stairs.

  Ana stared at Father Matthias without blinking and told him:

  "Maybe he's right, maybe we haven't thought this whole thing through well enough."

  "Of course, he's right, but if we want to reach our goal, we have no choice but to continue. Our purpose transcends all understanding and it goes without saying that it is more than important we are ourselves."

  They gathered up all the essential things they needed, put the body back in the trunk, loaded up the tools and other utensils wherever they could and went away from the library in search of a safe place to continue their work.

  *

  Two hours later...

  "I would like to report an incident," Mark said to the police sergeant who answered the phone. "I saw someone was trying to hide the stolen cadaver in my library."

  The sergeant dispatched four agents right away to confirm if the information was true. But he also made a second telephone call:

  "A library in the suburbs of Amsterdam just called saying they saw what you're looking for."

  "Thanks," was all the man in the dark glasses said before hanging up.

  V – UNLEASHING THE DOG

  Thomas entered through the library door with the unhurried calmness typical of a hunter. The passing years had not only treated him well physically, but also graced his character with patience, a highly advantageous trait for any heartless psychopath to have. He walked slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, unconcerned by how far away his target would be able to get with the head start he enjoyed. He was dressed in a refreshing all-white suit with matching hat and shoes. The lone color contrast in his eye-pleasing ensemble was a black tie.

  The echo of his footsteps resounded through the library, now deserted after being evacuated by the police once they established that the information provided by the director was accurate. He walked down a wide aisle lined with bookshelves and neared the spot where the police were speaking with Mark. He stopped, grabbed a book that protruded from the rest and read the title:

  The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

  "Sir, the library is closed to the public," a policeman said to him with a surprised look on his face.

  Without paying much attention to him, Thomas continued talking.

  "I always believed that when a moment like this arrived, I would choose a book with a spiritual theme; and here I find myself with some adventure stories for children instead. Ironic, isn't it?"

  "Sir, I have to ask you to come back later to pick up your book. Right now, we're in the middle of an investigation and you can't remain here."

  "I know, I know," he replied, still looking at the book. "I only need to when that damn priest went away and which way he was headed. Nothing more."

  Mark nervously rose from his chair and one police officer moved his hand on top of the pistol in his belt.

  "Don't move," ordered the officer closest to Thomas.

  Thomas raised his hands.

  "It would be much easier if you just gave me the information and I'll go on my way."

  The two agents in the back headed towards him, intending to handcuff him.

  "I assure you that is not a good idea," Thomas said.

  He let the book fall to the floor and, taking full advantage of the lapse in concentration caused by the momentary distraction when the book landed, pulled out a pistol with a silencer and fired four times. One bullet for each officer, who collapsed like so many slabs of meat.

  "Fair warning," he said and made the sign of the cross.

  He bent down and picked up the book, unfolded one of the pages and put it back where it was before.

  "I want to see where the priest lived. Because he did live here, right?"

  Mark only nodded, too overcome by fear to speak.

  "Well, what are we waiting for?"

  Mark led him to the boiler room without having any idea of what to do to get away from Thomas. He was too nervous to think clearly, the ideas kept piling up on top of each other, his forehead and armpits were soaked in sweat and he gazed vacantly off into space.

  "I recognize the smell. The priest has been playing with the material the book describes. Surely you have no idea what he was cooking up down here in the basement all these years, right?" said Thomas, slapping Mark in the face so he would snap out of his trance.

  "No... no..." he seemed to wake up from a light sleep.

  "Look, you had the man who deciphered the Voynich Manuscript living right under your nose without knowing it. I find that very ironic, the greatest knowledge and wisdom of the ages hidden away underneath a library, and no one had access to it."

  "The Voynich Manuscript? You mean the book that could never be deciphered?"

  "One and the same," responded Thomas, traces of a faint smile forming in the corners of his mouth.

  "It really has been deciphered?"

  "By him and the people that I work for. The thing is that my people don't have any interest in sharing its contents."

  "What does it talk about?"

  "Oh! Important things, I guess. The origin of life, universal medicine, how to create energy, where we come from. But my bosses don't want to scare the people with new theories. They only wish to protect them from themselves."

  "I understand," whispered Mark.

  "You understand nothing!" Thomas shouted, grabbing him beneath the chin. "Now tell me when they left and where they've gone."

  The pain prevented Mark from speaking clearly.

  "They went away over two hours ago," he mumbled.

  “You gave them a little bit of a time cushion to get away," Thomas said, calmer now as he loosened his grip. "That shows you are a good friend, although it didn't stop you from covering your ass by alerting the police. A good person and egotistical. It couldn't be any other way; the love of your own self again prevails over the love of their fellow humans. Do you comprehend now why that book is no good for the vast majority of us?"

  Thomas sat down in a chair and lit a cigarette.

  "Pure poison, these things," he said, puffing hard on it. "Tell me something... how many species do you know of that are so obsessed with self-destruction? Twenty? Four? ...Maybe just one?

  "That's your excuse? You believe you are a purifier?"

  "Ha, ha, ha! No, no... far from it. I'm just a killer at the service of the powerful men who pay me, although I have to admit I have a score to settle with the priest that goes back a long time. This job is more personal than I would like."

  Thomas took a deep drag on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke in satisfaction.

  "Now tell me, where have they gone?"

  "That, I don't know. The only thing they wanted was to get away from here and take the corpse they had robbed with them."

  "I believe you, I believe you. Describe the condition of the corpse to me."

  Mark appeared reluctant to speak.

  "Come on," Thomas smiled, "now that we're becoming such good friends, you wouldn't want me to have to get the answers by beating them out of you, would you?"
/>
  "No, no...no, of course not," Mark stammered.

  "Then talk."

  "The body was wrapped in plastic wrap like a mummy.

  "And you saw some kind of crystal container, like a fishbowl or a big glass?

  "Yes, I saw one."

  "It was giving off heat, right? A kind of heat that's hard to describe?"

  Mark remembered the sensation he felt when he approached it, and nodded his head.

  "You're okay, I like you," Thomas assured him. "If you tell me what kind of car they went away in and the license plate number, I won't kill you."

  "I don't think I can speak," the librarian declared.

  "Very well."

  Without thinking twice, Thomas grabbed a plate from on top of the table and smashed it into Mark's mouth, breaking several teeth and cutting his lips. Blood streamed from the librarian's nose. Immediately afterwards, Thomas produced a small notebook and pen from his pocket and offered them to Mark.

  "Since you’ve decided not to speak, I guess it'll be better if you just write it down for me. Or do you prefer that I start cutting off your fingers so you won't be able to hold the pen?

  Mark immediately took the notebook and pen, wrote down what Thomas wanted to know and returned them.

  "That's better. That's the way I like it."

  And as he soon as he finished the sentence, he pulled out his pistol.

  "But you said you wouldn't kill me!"

  The silencer muffled the two shots to the heart and a final coup de grace to the forehead.

  "I lied," said Thomas.

  VI – THE MOUSE TRAP

  The cold wind blowing from the north swept the black clouds southwards. The highway was still dry and didn't appear to be taking Father Matthias and Ana anywhere in particular. It was only putting distance between them and the dangers lurking inside the Dutch capital. The problem was they needed to find a safe place to make sure that Carlos' body was on the mend and had started the process of becoming whole again, without losing the heat vital to the process. They also needed a place where they could spend the night.

  "We can't allow ourselves the luxury of wandering around aimlessly. We have to make a decision, even though it may be risky."

  "I know a little B&B on the outskirts of Utrecht. It's a little pricey, but it's roomy, modern and quiet."

  "That sounds good. Now we just have to figure out how we're going to get the cadaver into a room without anybody passing by noticing."

  "That's not going to be a problem."

  "Ah, it's not?"

  "The room has a garage with its own access for, you know, intimate encounters. I'll call ahead to rent the room and they'll give me the access code. No one will even see the color of the car."

  "How is it that you know about a place like that? Wait, now that I think about it, maybe it's better that I don't know."

  "I'm calling now," said Ana, as the hint of a devilish smile played across her face.

  *

  Half an hour later...

  It was drizzling again and the leaves on the trees were swaying gently from the fine raindrops. The handful of pedestrians out that night were shielded by the protective cover of their umbrellas. A few people took advantage of the weather to slip into a nearby cafe, order a hot drink and chat with their friends. The normally placid waters of the canal stirred, creating shining, shimmering tableaux on the surface that gave off a sweet, fresh scent. The trills and warbles of the birds singing suddenly stopped. Located near a bend in the canal, the house was isolated from curious onlookers and indiscreet visitors. Certainly the fact that the residents of this little neighborhood were concerned about and determined to protect their privacy helped a great deal. The colonial-style house, encircled by a red brick wall, dominated that idyllic corner of the area. In marked contrast, a large silver mechanical door served as the entrance. While the door looked quite striking, once you went inside with your car, you went down an inclined ramp and quickly disappeared between the building and trees.

  The garage was small but invisible to anyone looking in from outside. If it wasn't for the fluorescent ceiling lights, they would be completely in the dark.

  "Nice place," remarked Father Matthias.

  They opened the access door to the room and examined it.

  "Everything in order," Ana declared.

  An enormous double bed, complete with mirrored ceiling overhead, took up the entire interior. The bed was simply too big for a space of 20 square meters. A small table near the windows was undoubtedly there so furtive lovers might share breakfast, lunch or dinner while enjoying a pleasant view of the canal. There were closets to the right and a sink, refrigerator, cups, plates and a few assorted kitchen utensils on the left.

  "We have a problem," Father Matthias noted.

  "What?"

  "We need a bigger table to work on."

  "I don't think it would be a good idea to bring any furniture in here. We have to find another solution."

  "Then I guess we have to move the bed closer to the windows and continue our work on the floor."

  "Very well," Ana replied.

  They moved everything blocking them out of the way. After a mighty struggle because the bed weighed a ton, the pair finally managed to maneuver it from its original to a spot over by the windows.

  "Shall we go get the body now or do you need to rest first?" Ana asked Father Matthias, who was breathing heavily from the effort.

  "Don't worry about me," he answered as he raised his hand.

  They opened the trunk, again removed anything that was in the way, and got a firm grip on the corpse. Unfortunately, there was very little space to maneuver in the garage and they banged the elbows, shoulders and hands of the body against the car, the wall and door frame. They finally made it inside the room and laid the cadaver down safely to the floor.

  "I'm going for the crystal globe."

  "Better to leave it where it is," said Father Matthias, "in case we have to leave in a hurry."

  Ana agreed and knelt facing the cadaver.

  "Has it improved?"

  "I hope so, because we can't permit ourselves the luxury of waiting too long. By this time, Mark will have informed the police and they will be searching for us. The manuscript doesn't indicate exactly how much time is needed for the process of becoming whole to be completed. I'm sure whoever wrote it didn't think of putting instructions in a footnote about what do when you're in a hurry."

  "In that case, shall we begin to unwrap him?

  "Yes, and may God's will be done."

  They cut the plastic film between the arm and chest with a kitchen knife, creating a few strips they could use to pull on. Taking consummate care not to strip away the poultices, they unwrapped the plastic film, leaving the body almost naked. Only the blobs of the dry plant mixture that looked as if they had been taken from a pool of greenish mud concealed the color of the skin.

  "It appears that he has improved," thought Father Matthias.

  The body of Carlos no longer looked deformed. The limbs were in their proper position and his back was no longer twisted backwards.

  "Everything is in place," he mumbled to himself.

  He tapped the joints with his fingers and took the risk of gently moving them. He examined the neck, which had recovered some firmness, and pressed down on the abdomen.

  "Bring me some water in a bucket with soap and a towel. Once he's cleaned up, we'll move on to the second phase."

  Ana opened the closets and looked through the drawers.

  "I don't see any bucket, will a bowl work for you?

  "That works," said Father Matthias.

  At this stage, they needed to clean off the poultice carefully so as not to leave the red areas uncovered. They still required a little more time before they became whole again or perhaps a different treatment would have to be applied. Luckily, they only had to leave a little on the right shoulder and both knees, the parts of his body that unquestionably had borne the brunt of the impact in t
he accident.

  Night fell and the rain never let up. Ana was watching Carlos' face, so young and pale, humming and whispering a tune that her grandmother had taught her when she was 12 years old. The bruises resembled melanomas that appear in the softest, most delicate skin, showing the ravages of death that make no distinction based on age, race, or social status.

  "Since the red blotches are not getting smaller, we'll have to hurt him," Father Matthias declared.

  "Let's wait a little longer," Ana suggested. "If we have to go to that extreme, it won't matter if we give him a little more time."

  "You're right. We'll wait."

  *

  Shielded from prying eyes, a young man with blond hair and eyebrows, and a ruddy complexion stopped in front of the house. He bent down to tie his shoelaces, then straightened up and continued walking towards the main highway. He moved away from the light of a bright street lamp and took a seat on a bench under a tree.

  With absolutely nothing to do but kill time, he glanced at his watch, crossed his arms over his chest, picked his nose and contemplated his navel.

  "Damn rain," he complained.

  Despite the impatience and resentment he felt, he didn't dare abandon his position.

  The vibration of his cellphone brought him to his feet.

  "Are you at the house?" asked the man with the dark glasses.

  "Yeah, I've been here over an hour."

  "Have you gone in to see if the car we're looking for is there?"

  "No."

  "Well, why not?" asked the man, the tone of his voice betraying his anger.

  "They told me I should just wait outside and not do anything at all."

  "All right, all right. I have to call other people to see if they've found the priest. Go into the garage and do whatever you have to do. If you see the car we're looking for, call me."

  "I'll call you back in less than half an hour," the younger man promised.

  The search and capture operation organized by the man in the dark glasses boasted nearly unlimited resources. Between the young true believers and hired professionals, they wouldn't take long in finding Father Matthias. The strategy was simple enough: search all the hotels, motels, hostels, guest houses, B&Bs and campgrounds within the designated area. No one within a 200-kilometer radius of Amsterdam would sleep in privacy on this night. The receptionists who refused to share the information at first were either bribed or threatened. The residents who believed they might have seen something, they intimidated. The owners of corner grocery stores and other stores, they harassed. In the most remote places, like the B&B in Utrecht, they broke into garages and rooms, sometimes stealthily and sometimes by force.