Trifariam, The Lost Codex (2012)

by Diego Rodriguez

  The shaking that James’ was subjecting him to brought him back to reality.

  “Tell me where it is!”

  The girl, who until that moment had been frozen in her chair, ran towards James and began to kick him in the shin. “Let my daddy go! Let him go!” yelled the girl with tears in her eyes.

  Mary gently grabbed her arm. Her hands were barely squeezing her, but to the eyes of the Director it seemed like an affront, full of disproportionate violence.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t know anything,” he said, failing to convince them in the least.

  James shoved the Director into the shelves and walked over to the little girl. He would try to use her to coerce him. However, the Director took advantage of his slight hesitation to try and flee, catching James off guard. He tried to escape, leaving the little girl to look after herself!

  In four long strides he was standing before the door. His hand was already tightly wrapped around the knob when a body flew at him, knocking him sideways into the corner of the room. Mary hadn’t taken her eyes off him, guessed what he was thinking and tried to stop him. She ran at him and used the force of her body to deliver him such a violent blow that he ended up plastered against one of the walls, his head smashing against the ground.

  “You worthless piece of shit!” she said with disgust, slapping him while he was still on the floor. “You were going to leave your own daughter and run away! You’re a disgrace!”

  “The treasure is worth more than a mere life,” argued the Director.

  Mary’s insides churned when she heard such words. She was overcome by a powerful urge to vomit. She was stood before the most disgusting person she had ever met.

  “The treasure?” asked James. “So you do know what we’re talking about, don’t you?”

  The Director, who was by now wiping away the blood from his upper lip, smirked and spoke to them in a threatening tone. “I don’t know how you managed to find out about it, because I’m the only person who does. But I can assure you that you won’t make it out of this museum alive. I’ll tear you to shreds, I’ll kill you.”

  James felt frustration overpower his body. This pathetic excuse for a human being seemed to value the object more than the wellbeing of his daughter. Obviously they wouldn’t achieve anything by pretending to hurt the girl because he would allow it to happen. A not too distant memory came to mind. He remembered the method used by the assassins in Albert’s house, it could get results.

  He forced the Director to sit on one of guest chairs, dressed only in his underwear. Then he tied his arms behind his back with a knot, using his thin belt as a rope. He later did the same to his legs, tying each to the legs of the chair.

  James started to speak in a serious voice. He tried to tighten his facial muscles so that the veins would be even more visible, that way the story he was about to tell him would have a greater effect. “You know… when I was serving in the military, on a secret mission, we ended up being captured by guerrillas. They interrogated us using a method which, despite being slightly unorthodox, was actually very effective.”

  He grabbed a pile of papers off the desk and rolled them into a huge ball which he stuffed into the Director’s mouth. This meant that the only way he could breathe was through his nose.

  James then walked to the bathroom, picked up the plastic wastebasket and emptied it onto the floor. He ran the faucet and waited until the water was ice-cold, then he filled it up. He then had about one and a half gallons of icy water.

  “Give me your pantyhose,” he told Mary who, after realizing what James was going to do, took the girl and locked her in the bathroom.

  The Director tried to spit out the paper, he was starting to feel uncomfortable.

  James pulled the pantyhose over his head and tied it around his neck. “Are you sure you don’t want to speak?” he asked again.

  The grunts and head movements foretold an adamant refusal which James was not going to accept so readily.

  “You won’t get out of this room alive. Do you think that the object is worth more than your own life?”

  This time the Museum Director barely moved. His eyes, full of hatred, bore through the pantyhose and radiated an absolute refusal. They were like two daggers that he wanted to plunge into the heart of his executioner.

  “Okay, you asked for it,” declared the professor, blaming him for everything that was about to happen.

  He picked up the wastebasket and threw all the icy water over his head. At that moment, his breathing quickened and his heart pumped oxygen harder than ever before. The wet pantyhose stuck to his face, blocking his nasal passages, depriving him of the air he needed to breathe. At first his breathing had been slow, now it seemed like that of an athlete after completing the hardest of marathons. He was scarcely able to inhale enough air through his nose and his head was beginning to feel faint. It seemed as if he was on the brink of losing consciousness when James loosened the pantyhose and took it off his head, also removing the paper ball which was starting to make him retch.

  The fresh air entered his mouth and filled his almost empty lungs, he seemed to be coming round. Mary, astonished, surveyed the scene without turning a hair.

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  “You motherfuckers. If you kill me, you’ll never find what you’re looking for. I’ll never tell you.”

  James tried to confuse him, aware that the professor was standing firm. “You’re mistaken. The person who hired us did so with the intent of killing you. He knows where the object is, and he will have control of it when you’re dead.”

  James put the pantyhose back on his head but without stuffing his mouth, and he threw another load of icy water over him. A new cloud of steam began to rise from his head. The pantyhose began to cling again, this time to his mouth which was trying desperately to take in air. It was useless, he’d had enough, he was coming to the end. He would lose consciousness and die.

  A new wave of air filled his lungs and brought him back to harsh reality.

  “When the guerrilla caught us,” said James, returning to his story, “he tortured us using this method until they realized that physical harm is a much greater incentive to speak.”

  He picked up the PC tower and threw it deliberately on the floor. It broke into pieces, revealing all the inner circuitry. He grabbed the power cable and pulled it out by the roots. The Museum Director worriedly looked on. He fixed his eyes on the woman, begging her for mercy.

  “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ll put the pantyhose back on your head and we’ll throw water over you, allowing to breathe just enough for you not to faint. We’ll stick two pieces of iron in your knee and connect them up to the two power cables, then we’ll plug it in. It’s not a pleasant sensation and you’ll want to speak in less than a minute, but we won’t anymore and you’ll go through an hour of intense agony before you lose consciousness and die.” A simple glance at the Director’s face was enough to see the panic he was starting to feel in his eyes. “The people who hired us will pay us well to kill you, but we think they’ll give us even more money for the object. The question is, do you want to speak?”

  A gob of spit landed on the professor’s face. It was a show of bravery and stupidity. James grabbed the copper letter opener and walked over to the Director. Mary was starting to get worried, it seemed as if James was getting a little too involved in this role, it scared her. He raised the dagger and without any further hesitation, he quickly brought it down on his thigh. Mary was going to stop him when the Museum Director burst into tears and broke down.

  “Stop! Stop! Don’t hurt me. I’ll tell you,” he begged between sobs which were full of powerlessness and fear.

  James waited for him to calm down and begin speaking.

  Mary breathed a sigh of relief.

  The Museum Director spoke, unable to hold back his tears. “When we examined the shaft which leads off from the Queen’s Chamber and we found the first and second blo
cks, we came to the conclusion that they were hiding something very important. After careful consideration, we decided to close the pyramid and tell everybody that we were going to refurbish it. That way, we could secretly investigate what lay behind those stones while renovation was being carried out in other areas. The only people who knew about the project were the secretary, two engineers who controlled the robot, and myself.”

  “Why didn’t you announce your discovery to the world?”

  “The Secret Chamber is full of priceless objects which are impossible to remove through the eight by eight inch shaft. We discovered that there was another entrance to the chamber, which confirmed to us that there was another hidden passage in the Great Pyramid which led there. We’re trying to find out where it is and, when we find it and we have all the objects in our possession, we will share it with the world.”

  “How did you get hold of the triangle?”

  That question made him noticeably squirm, but he had no choice other than to respond. “When we finally gained access via the robot, the engineers used the video cameras to film the whole room. After finding the vessels, papyrus scrolls and the sarcophagus, they didn’t pay attention to anything else. Over the next few days, while they were eating their lunch, I would sneak back to the pyramid and investigate on my own. One day I was lucky and after a lot of hard work, I managed to reach the chamber with the robot and I found the triangular object inside a kind of receptacle which was carved from the rock in the wall itself. I took it with me and I went down the shaft.”

  James seemed confused. “So… the secretary doesn’t know that the object exists?”

  “No! That idiot would probably store it in the warehouse without even cataloging it. That object is obviously very important, it was in a really prominent position in the room. I used some of the museum funds to study it, but the results are inconclusive.”

  “Inconclusive?”

  “Yes. It is unknown what material it is made from.”

  The two friends looked at each other in surprise. Mary was the first to speak. “Where is it now?”

  “It’s in the warehouse.”

  Although the Director seemed to be telling the truth, something didn’t add up. He covered up the existence of the object because the secretary would put in into storage and forget about it. It was therefore slightly odd that he would do the very same thing he was trying to avoid.

  “You’re lying!” he shouted, brandishing the letter opener and getting ready to attack him once more.

  “Okay, okay!” he cried between sobs. “It is in the safe fitted behind the relief of Nefertiti. The password is ‘D14M03A03’.”

  Mary walked over and took the painting off the wall. Behind it was a reinforced safe opened via a digital code. She typed in the code. The whoosh of air as it rushed into the secret compartment was a sign of the good sense the Director had to cooperate.

  Inside, on top of a pile of papers classified into different folders, was a metal box. Mary opened it, completely nervous. Her eyes shone with triumph when they saw what it was. “It’s inside, let’s get out of here,” she said as she closed the box.

  James gagged the professor and locked him in the bathroom with his daughter. The girl, who at first was curled up in a corner, ran towards her father and hugged him tightly.

  After closing the office door, James took out his cellphone and pressed the redial button again.

  “Have you got it?” asked Richard on the other end.

  “Yeah. Erase all the recordings from the security cameras which have been broadcast and stored throughout the day. We can’t leave the slightest trace of our presence.”

  Chapter 37

  The sound of classical music filled the mansion’s living room with a sense of calm and reflection. It had been over four hours since the assassins he hired had shown any sign of life, and he was starting to get worried. The week had been extremely difficult. He had had to deal with some of the most powerful shareholders in the company, hungry for revenge over some of his latest decisions, as well as having to keep in almost continual contact with the assassins.

  He needed time to relax and there was nothing like classical music and a good glass of brandy to restore calm.

  He leaned back in his reclining sofa and rested his feet on the panel which had unfolded below. He closed his eyes and took another swig while the melody slowly filled his ears, instilling in him a feeling of pleasure.

  The mansion was enormous. It had a rustic exterior and a garden which stretched for hundreds of yards around it, culminating in a huge hedge which bordered the whole compound along with a dark-colored metal fence.

  A slight noise broke the harmony within. The living room door opened and a young woman walked in, wearing a servant’s uniform. In her hands she carried a cellphone which was vibrating constantly.

  The maid purposefully walked towards him, but remained gripped by fear; she had just intruded upon her master’s rest. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir. I was cleaning the kitchen… your cellphone started ringing… It’s the second time they’ve called in less than two minutes. I thought it might be important.”

  The man got up and quickly walked towards her. The maid couldn’t help but take a couple of steps back, much less control her nerves. She went to hand it over to him.

  The cellphone starting vibrating again when he snatched it out of her hands.

  “Get out! Out!” he shouted at her, practically kicking her out of the room and slamming the door in her face. When he was completely alone, he answered it. “Why has it taken you so long to call?”

  A deathly silence was heard on the other end of the phone. It was so long that he started to feel uncomfortable.

  “They’ve only just left the museum, so we haven’t been able to contact you until now,” remarked Alpha 2. “They have the object! Shall we act?”

  “No!” he shouted. “The object comprises different fragments. It’s better to let them continue for the time being until they get hold of the next one. Then you’ll kill them without leaving a trace.”

  “We’ve discovered that their next destination is Mexico - the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon, to be precise.”

  Alpha 2 didn’t detect the slightest hint of surprise from his boss at their discovery. It was as if he knew beforehand which route they would take, which greatly unsettled the assassin. The boss seemed to be a ruthless man devoid of feelings, just like them, which is why they carried out his demands to the letter. He had promised them that they would get the bloodbath they yearned for when all this was over - something they wanted so much.

  “Follow them closely and never intervene without speaking to me first. Is that clear?”

  “Okay,” replied Alpha 2, hanging up the phone.

  Alpha 1 was keeping track of the trio’s movements through his great binoculars. “They’re heading for the plane,” he said as he started the car. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 38

  The wind finally put in an appearance nine hours into the flight, tossing the aircraft about as it approached the Cuban coast and putting an end to the comfortable nap Richard had been enjoying. Turbulence was frequent on intercontinental flights, but that wind had shaken the airplane with such disproportionate force that it seemed to have inflicted serious damage. After a deep yawn, he looked around. Although disoriented at first, he quickly realized Mary’s presence and wasted no time asking her where James was.

  The woman was holding the fragment that they had stolen from the museum in Cairo while she tried unsuccessfully to analyze one of the inscriptions carved on its base. The morphology and syntax was very similar to that of runic script, forming a message which seemed indecipherable. In fact, even if they did manage to understand it, it was still obviously incomplete because it was missing the symbols on the next fragment. Richard had been trying for hours but it was impossible. He didn’t understand a thing.

  The piece was triangular, golden in color and one of its corners was a right angle. It was
considerably hard to the touch.

  The aircraft turned sharply in the air and changed direction without prior warning. They both looked at each other surprised; it seemed as if the airplane was no longer heading for Mexico, but for South America instead.

  “Something is going on. The airplane has changed its flight path,” said Mary as she looked out one of the windows. It had been a while since they had left the turbulence behind and the sky was clear. There was no good reason to change direction.

  Richard stood up and walked to the pilot’s cabin. He knocked on the door and a familiar face opened it. It was James.

  “What’s up? Why did the pilot change the flight plan?”

  “Don’t worry, Richard,” he replied, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “I explicitly asked the pilot to do so. The idea of traveling to Peru has been floating around my head for several months now, to go and see the famous Nazca and Palpa Lines for myself. The trip would actually be pointless unless you could look at them in all their glory from the air. It would be like trying to look at a giant photograph while holding it an inch from your eyes. I’ve gathered tourist information on the area a few times, but I’ve always been put off by the idea of flying over the plateau in one of those old light aircrafts.”

  Richard looked at his friend with a serious expression. James’ idea was truly brilliant. It wasn’t every day you got the chance to see the fascinating Nazca lines from a private jet. However, Albert had been kind enough to lend them his plane and using it for such a purpose probably wouldn’t have made him too happy.

  After telling Mary about the new route, the trio gathered on one side of the aircraft where they could see the landscape from the window. A landscape that was dry, arid and lifeless thanks to a lack of cloud coverage to prevent the sun from relentlessly scorching the Peruvian earth.