Codex

by Adrian Dawson

  MaryBeth smiled with a hint of condescension, as though speaking to a small child. “Terry, allow me to correct you. These were not devices of ‘immense power’; they were what the F.B.I. have labelled ‘nuisance bombs’. Yes, there would undoubtedly have been one or two casualties but, because of IntelliSoft’s ongoing security policy, the devices have indeed been uncovered and are currently being defused. As we have already announced, the sites are now to be completely sealed to the public until the launch and we will continue with our stringent security procedures, thereby ensuring the safety of those who wish to attend on the day.”

  “But surely, now that the bombs have been found and publicised,” Terry pressed, “won’t the terrorists simply find another method of generating casualties?”

  “Well, whilst I am not at liberty to disclose the identities of the people who placed the devices,” MaryBeth said confidently, “I can assure you that they are not only known to the authorities, but are being taken into custody as we speak. I believe the F.B.I. will be releasing a statement later in the day to that effect.”

  Terry creased his eyes suspiciously. “So you’re saying that the threat is at an end?”

  “I can guarantee that the threat is at an end,” MaryBeth said confidently, “and that IntelliSoft’s security measures will continue to undermine any attempts to harm visitors to any of our sites, whether they be world leaders or devotees of our efforts to continually expand the boundaries of computer technology.”

  “Thank you, Ms. DeLaine.” The camera zoomed in on Terry’s rosy-cheeked face again. “Well, that’s the official line. The sites are safe and the suspects are being taken into custody. Are they? We’ll just have to wait for the F.B.I. statement for that one. Mary, it’s back to you...”

  In the studio, Mary still looked as dubious as she could manage. She had a scandal in her hands and, for the sake of the ratings, she needed to perpetuate it. “Well, IntelliSoft playing down what is obviously a very dangerous situation there. Lives may be at risk, but the launch goes ahead. We’ll bring you more on that story as soon as we get it...”

  The Abraham leaned back into the stained green chair and smiled. These were not ‘nuisance bombs’ designed to injure ‘one or two’ people; they were low-grade nuclear weapons, designed to slaughter thousands. They were also remarkably easy to defuse.

  And every one of them had been uncovered.

  In addition, the suspects were ‘currently being taken into custody’, which could only mean one thing; the site in Kozlar had been discovered and an operation launched. Ephraim and his disciples would all have been arrested, and the Child would now be in the hands of the authorities.

  His smile grew wider, its malicious slant carving into his cheeks like a knife through tough leather as his eyes became a cruel indication of the pride in himself he now felt. The timings had been imperative and yet extremely difficult to control, but he had still managed to achieve them with an almost unholy degree of precision. Things could not be better.

  Once again, everything had gone according to plan.

  asked [him] a question,

  tempting him

  Matthew 22:35

  Lara was swinging higher than Jack’s paternal instincts wanted to accept and his nose was filled with the scent of Elizabeth’s freshly baked bread wafting down from the house. A warm smell embedded within a cold breeze. She was kicking her feet back and forth, desperately trying to disprove laws of physics she could not possibly understand.

  She was twelve years old. It would be two years before Elizabeth’s accident; two years before the warmth of the bread stopped as swiftly as Jack’s warm nature to his only flesh and blood. Two years before his descent into a bitterness which only an uncompromising immersion in his work would ever seem to ease. For now the ‘Bernstein Clan’ were happy. They were a family. Jack made good money playing chess and had saved to buy the Glendale ranch with a couple of acres of land. He enjoyed his work and even had an idea about starting a computer business. He might even be able to buy more land, perhaps even a horse for Lara to ride, if the business did well. He could always go back to chess if it did not. The future was still very exciting.

  ‘Hey, where are you going?’ he asked her jokily, looking up as she reached the apex of a distinctly dangerous forward thrust. He was not even sure that she would hear.

  Lara giggled; that excitably cute giggle that had never managed to make it past the pitch of a five year old. No matter how grown up she was beginning to sound, the giggle would always be that of Jack’s eternal baby girl.

  ‘I’m going to heaven!’ she’d yelled. She meant nothing by it.

  ‘Aren’t you happy down here with us?’ he had joked.

  Lara slowed, she was getting breathless now. ‘Of course I am, daddy,’ she said, telling him off, ‘But Big Nana’s in heaven and I want to go and see her.’ She tried to stop the swing with her feet but they wouldn’t reach. Jack gently caught the chains, making sure that she did not come to an abrupt halt and fall forward.

  ‘Big Nana’ was Jack’s late mother. She had been a hefty lady all her life and had done her utmost to overfeed Jack with kosha food. She was a kindly lady and her table was always laden in every sense. She would do anything for anybody and she adored Lara. Because Elizabeth’s mother had been the opposite; very petite, Lara had always called Grandma Rebekah ‘Big Nana’. But Rebekah had developed a tumour. It ate away at her for nearly a year before God had the grace to accept her into his fold. Lara had been inconsolable.

  When the swing had settled, Lara stopped giggling and looked sternly toward her father.

  ‘When I’ve seen her and had a talk with God; told him to take really good care of her, I will come back home, you know.’ She was quite serious, nodding her head to emphasise the statement. ‘I’ll always come home.’

  Jack had smiled. She said it because it was the phrase he himself had used every time he had departed to some far flung corner of the globe to compete in a championship. Sometimes he had to go for days, sometimes weeks, but always the same promise: ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll always come home.’ And always the same expressive nod of the head.

  Now Lara, sitting on a swing at twelve, was repeating it back to him verbatim; mimicking his look of consolation.

  ‘I’ll always come home.’

  He had waited and waited but she never had. She never would.

  He felt a hand resting on his shoulder and opened his eyes, lifting his tired head away from the table. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, only that it had been the first real sleep he had enjoyed in weeks.

  In the sterile surroundings of the Temporary Medical Suite he stared through the clear plexi-glass of the isolation unit and smiled lovingly. The unit was designed for soldiers; strong wide men. But now, laying peacefully at the furthest end with too much open space surrounding him, the fragility of the baby could not be more starkly outlined. He was sleeping, his tiny hand laid gently across a teddy bear donated by one of the Marines as his chest rose and fell with the first tiny breaths of freedom. Jack might not have been able to bring Lara home, but he could at least fulfil what he still believed to be her last wish. Daniel, a name suggested by a member of the Medical Team who fully understood the analogy of ‘the lion’s den’, was finally safe and well.

  “He seems happy enough,” the male nurse said, peering over Jack’s shoulder.

  Jack blinked his eyes against the light and nodded confidently.

  “He’s still alright?” he asked quietly.

  The nurse, a strong looking man in his late twenties, nodded confidently. “We’re going to keep him in isolation for a little longer, but don’t worry; all the tests are coming up negative. Your F.B.I. friend informs me that he will have completed the interviews by ten and he’ll probably be flying home first thing in the morning. If we don’t have any problems by then I think you two should be able to join him.”

  Jack nodded warmly. Home. A place they both needed to be.

/>   “Just as a precaution, though,” the nurse continued, “I’ve sent the results of the DNA tests through to Washington. They’re going to do a comparison test against your daughter. I still think we ought to make absolutely sure that we have the right child.”

  For a moment Jack did not respond, his eyes were still firmly focused on the baby boy. The boy whose eyes left him in little doubt that this was indeed his grandson. They were unmistakable. Because they were Lara’s eyes and therefore, conversely, her mother’s. Those eyes were the only genetic fingerprint he needed.

  “We have the right child,” he said, lifting himself to his feet with a gentle smile and walking out of the Suite.

  * * * * *

  The restrained knock on the door came as a welcome relief to Warner. He had been getting nowhere fast. The only consolation he had been able to take was that not one of the interrogation team was faring any better than he was. Each member of the twelve-strong team were conducting twenty-eight half-hour interviews each, trying to glean any information, incriminating or otherwise, that they could. With the exception of four half-hour breaks, they were doing sixteen hours straight. Having done ten hours and eighteen interviews already, Warner’s patience was wearing thin. Especially when not one of the interviewees had, as yet, offered him anything but abject silence.

  He opened the door and, seeing Jack standing outside, stepped out into the corridor.

  “How’s the little guy?” he asked.

  Jack smiled. “He’s good. They’re keeping him in isolation overnight but they say we might be able to fly back with you in the morning. Fingers crossed.” He mimicked the action and smiled broadly. “Anyway, how about you? How are the interviews going?”

  Warner pursed his lips and blew a long breath. “Not good, Jack. Not good at all. Three hundred and twelve disciples and not one of them will utter a single word. It’s obvious that they’ve all been either prepped, brainwashed or drugged. I tell you, it’s going to be a longer night than I’d hoped. I’m on my nineteenth now and I’ve still got zip. I know the evidence is pretty strong but I still need to get some form of confession from at least one of them. I want to know what they thought they were going to achieve by all of this.”

  “So do I,” Jack said.

  “When I saw the one I’ve got now,” Warner said, nodding toward the door, “I thought I might have a chance. He’s number #224, a kid of about nineteen or twenty. He looked real cocky and confident when he came in. Had that leering smile. And I’ve only ever seen it once before.”

  “How do you mean?” Jack asked.

  “Years ago,” Warner replied. “I’d arrested an eighteen year old Asian kid for the murder of a prostitute in Michigan. Clear cut case, the kid was caught in the act by the hooker’s neighbours and was as guilty as sin. Smoking gun syndrome. Anyway, when the kid strolls into the interrogation room, he has that smile. Tells me exactly what he’d done to the hooker and then tells me why I can’t touch him. Seventeen hours later, as the son of a leading diplomat, they’d put him on a plane home. He walked. So, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that kids with that kind of smile can’t usually help themselves when it comes to boasting about exactly why they’re so untouchable. This kid definitely thinks he’s untouchable, he just doesn’t wanna boast about it yet, that’s all.”

  “Can I sit in for a while?” Jack asked. He seemed intrigued.

  Warner shrugged. “Sure, but my guess is you’ll be bored rigid.”

  He opened the door and they both stepped inside. Jack took the vacant chair whilst Warner took a seat on the desk, his clipboard resting on his knee. He looked the kid straight in the eye.

  “Name?” he asked, looking straight at the young kid with an expectant expression. It annoyed him that after five minutes he was still on the first of the twenty-eight preset questions he was supposed to obtain answers for. The boy did not respond, though his smile never faltered. He just stared with dark dilated eyes.

  Only this time those eyes were staring directly at Jack.

  Warner sighed heavily and leaned forward. He was tiring of the repetitive silences and decided to see if he could perhaps appeal to a better nature, even though he had no way of knowing whether #224, or indeed any of the others detained, actually possessed a better nature.

  “Look kid,” he said with forced compassion, “whether you choose to believe it or not, we’re here to help you. The people who were holding you are dangerous. Very dangerous. They kill people and they would kill you without thinking twice about it. We’re only here to make sure that that doesn’t happen... to you or anyone else”

  The kid laughed through his nose. Warner looked at Jack and wrote ‘English speaking’ on one of his hastily photocopied interrogation sheets. At least that was one less hurdle to worry about.

  “Do you know what sarin is?” he continued with increasing annoyance. The kid did not respond. “VX...? Semtex...?” Still nothing. “I’ll bet you know what a nuclear bomb is though, don’t you kid? Yeah? It’s a weapon of mass destruction; designed to kill thousands of people in a single stroke. Mercilessly.” The kid’s eyes remained impassive but Warner was sure that, if anything, his smile had actually broadened slightly. “In one area of your camp we found enough raw materials to manufacture illegal weapons with the capability of killing the entire population of the world ten times over. The entire population. And that, my friend, includes you. Your leaders planted weapons in nearly every major city on the globe. They were going to start by slaughtering millions. There was even a device hidden within your settlement,” he lied. “Don’t you see? They were going to kill you too.”

  He hoped that the kid would not spot the lie, though in truth it made absolutely no difference. The kid still said nothing and did nothing.

  He sighed again, realising conclusively that he had been wrong about #224. He wasn’t going to sing. He looked at his next sheet, #232, and knew deep down that he was going to get the same lack of response. He was becoming convinced that he would ultimately get nothing from any of his twenty-eight assignees. Even so, he had no option but to see them all, however fruitless his interrogations might prove to be.

  “Nothing,” he said to Jack. “I’ll get the next one in.”

  Jack felt nervous. As sure as the kid stared at him he stared straight back but he felt cold and uncomfortable. The kid was only silent because his eyes were doing all the talking.

  Warner stood up and walked past the young man to the grey panelled door that secured the room. He opened it halfway and summoned the two Marines who would escort #224 back to the hastily erected dormitory in the main hangar.

  “And I saw thrones,” the kid said quietly, still staring resolutely into Jack’s eyes, “and they sat upon them, and judgment was given unto them: and I saw the souls of them that were beheaded for the witness of Jesus, and for the word of God, and which had not worshipped the beast, neither his image, neither had received his mark upon their foreheads, or in their hands; and they lived and reigned with Christ a thousand years.”

  Warner held up his hand to stop the guards and closed the door again, smiling. He had been right after all. The kid loved playing it cool when the interrogation was ongoing and his interrogator was floundering like a fish out of water, but he could not bear it when the questioning stopped. His fun was being cut short before he had been given a chance to say his piece.

  So now he was talking.

  Warner lowered himself onto the desk and looked straight at the kid. The kid still looked straight at Jack. Never moving a muscle. Never blinking. “Meaning?” he asked.

  “Judgment Day,” the kid said, his eyes still avoiding Warner and burning into Jack with a confident fire.

  “And when was this going to be?” Jack asked.

  The kid’s eyes widened and he leaned forward slightly. “Soon.”

  Warner thought for a moment. “Then if we had not found the devices, you would have died too?”

  The kid’s face gave nothing away. “T
he Lord is on my side,” he said quietly. “I will not fear.”

  Warner shook his head in dismay. “Psalms 118:6,” he said sarcastically, “very impressive but what I want to know is when it was supposed to happen...?” He needed the kid to confess. One would be enough.

  #224 did not respond.

  “When?”

  The kid stood and walked toward the door. Warner knew that with the two guards waiting outside he was going nowhere, but he never even bothered to try the handle. Like a TV evangelist he simply turned around, eyes wide, and delivered his answer in the form of another quotation. As he spoke his eyes and his arms became prophetically animated.

  “And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood; And the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken of a mighty wind. And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together; and every mountain and island were moved out of their places. And the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; And said to the mountains and rocks. Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb:”

  The gesticulation stopped and the kid closed his eyes with a smile of comfort. Then they were opened and he approached Jack and leaned forward into his face. Jack did not move. With a booming voice that belied his slight build and youthful appearance, the kid stared into the depths of his mind and delivered his closing statement:

  “For the great day of his wrath is coming;” he said, “and who shall be able to stand?”