Ross shrugged. 'Orlando Falcon thought it was a divine place – the Garden of God.'
'But he was a priest. You're a scientist. How do you explain it?'
He looked up at the framed print on the wall above Lauren's desk: a centuries-old map of the world. Large swathes of the ancient chart were marked 'Terra Incognita', unknown land, and its oceans featured drawings of sea monsters with the warning 'Beware! Here Be Dragons.' As Ross studied it, a strange expression appeared on his face, as though he had seen, or thought of, something he couldn't quite believe.
Zeb caught the excitement in his eyes. 'What is it, Ross?' she said. 'Tell me.'
20
Ross didn't answer immediately. He kept staring at the ancient map above Lauren's desk, contrasting it with Xplore's precise geological map of the globe, which showed not only the surface of the entire planet but also what lay beneath. The insight that excited him came from the last time he had used Xplore's map to present his ill-fated ancient-oil theory to Underwood and Kovacs on the day he'd resigned.
He grabbed the mouse from Zeb and returned to the description in Lauren's translation of the lava stream and poisonous caves dripping with burning rain. It reminded him of the toxic conditions prevalent when the world was young, sparking a connection in his mind that was so outlandish it couldn't possibly be valid. Could it? Despite his scepticism, his heart beat faster. It was the one hypothesis that might explain everything. He scrolled forward to the end of the story where the soldiers die while searching for something mysterious, hidden deep within the forbidden caves at the far end of the garden, convinced it's treasure. The scholar priest tries to stop them but all are killed and the stream runs red with their blood.
Ross grabbed Orlando Falcon's book of directions and flipped to the last pages, with the translation of the final section of the Voynich. As he scanned the text he kept seeing, again and again, the words 'el origen', the source. Everything pointed to his hypothesis – however outlandish it seemed.
'What?' Zeb demanded again. Her eyes were huge behind her thick glasses. 'What is it?'
He tried to organize his jumbled thoughts. 'Fact: there was a moment on Earth before which the planet was barren and after which it wasn't. And once you consider the significance of this improbable, miraculous but undeniable moment in its history, anything is possible.'
'You're talking about the time when life began on Earth?'
'Not just when the miraculous spark of life happened, but how it happened and, crucially, where.'
Zeb nodded slowly. 'Okay, so we're talking about when and where life began on Earth. Go on.'
'If, as a growing body of evidence suggests, the seeds of life came from asteroid-borne amino acids hitting the planet four billion years ago and if the place where the seminal asteroid hit the Earth's crust has been preserved – in the same way that three-point-eight-billion-year-old Issua supracrustal rock in west Greenland and four-billion-year-old crust of Acasta Gneisses in north-western Canada have been preserved – then Orlando Falcon's Eden-like Garden of God could be the epicentre of life, the original point of impact from which all life began, somehow frozen in space and time. In the final section, Falcon even mentions something he calls el origen, the source.' He paused, but Zeb said nothing. Her face had paled. 'What's more,' he continued, 'if the garden, or its source, does exist and if it's the point at which all life began, then it might still contain the original primordial soup, the life-giving concentrate, the precursor of DNA – which might explain its strange flora and fauna and its miraculous healing properties.'
There was a beat before Zeb spoke. When she did it was barely a whisper. 'So, like the nun said, something in the garden might cure Lauren?'
'Yes,' he said slowly, as hope seeped through him. If – and it was an enormous if – this bizarre garden was what his hypothesis supposed it might be, not only could he save Lauren but he would uncover one of the holy grails of geology, perhaps the holy grail of all science: the origin of life.
Zeb sat back in her chair, held her head in her hands and gave a nervous laugh. 'Fuck. The Garden of God in the Voynich is the womb of Gaia, the cradle of all life on Earth. Fuck, Ross, that's one hell of a hypothesis. No wonder that priest's got his panties in a twist.'
He laughed with her. 'We've still got to prove the hypothesis.'
'There's one way to do that,' Zeb said, reaching for Orlando Falcon's notebook. 'Find the garden.'
Ross thought of Lauren and the baby and his excitement evaporated. 'I can't leave Lauren to go on a wild-goose chase. Not when she needs me most.'
'It's not a wild-goose chase,' said a voice behind them.
Ross swivelled round. 'How long have you been there?'
'Long enough to hear your theory.'
'You must be Sister Chantal,' said Zeb, standing up. 'Hello, I'm Zeb Quinn. I worked with Lauren on the manuscript.'
Sister Chantal walked across the room and clasped Zeb's hand in both of hers, then picked up Falcon's notebook from the desk and clutched it to her chest. 'Are you both coming with me to find the garden?'
'You can count me in,' said Zeb.
'Whoa, not so fast,' said Ross. He pointed to the notebook. 'Even if the garden does exist – and it's a big if – some of the clues are pretty cryptic, to say the least.'
'I can interpret them,' said Sister Chantal.
'Really? How come you're so confident?'
'I'm the Keeper. I've followed them in the past.'
'To get to the garden?' Ross frowned in disbelief. 'You've been there?'
'Yes.'
'So why do you need us to help you go back?'
'Because I'm old, the journey is difficult and it was a very long time ago.' She tapped the notebook. 'To find our way we'll need to follow this step by step.'
Ross rubbed his temples in frustration, unable to determine if the old woman was telling the truth or was a delusional fantasist. 'Sister, I want to believe your story. I really want to believe there's a miraculous garden out there that can save my wife. But if you think I'm going to leave Lauren in her current state, just because you say this garden exists and you've been there, you're wrong.'
'But what about your theory?'
'This isn't a science experiment. I can't leave my wife to check out an improbable hypothesis. I need more. I need proof.'
'I showed you the book.'
He shook his head.
She paused. 'I did have something that might have convinced you of the garden's healing power, but not enough. I used the last of it . . .' she levelled her beautiful eyes on Ross '. . . for Lauren.'
Ross's heart jumped. 'What are you saying?' Suddenly he remembered how he had found Sister Chantal kneeling by Lauren's bed – near the feeding tube. Then he remembered the nun's empty leather pouch. He felt sick. 'You gave her something?'
She gazed evenly at him. 'Only what I had left, which wasn't much. It was a futile gesture but I wanted desperately to make her well. I'd have given her more if I'd had it. I'm sure it'll have had some effect, but it won't cure her, I'm afraid.'
'What exactly did you give her?' demanded Zeb.
Ross jumped up and reached for the phone. Not only was the old nun delusional but she had poisoned his wife. 'What have you done? For Christ's sake, what have you done?' The phone rang as his hand touched it. He put it on speaker and glared at Sister Chantal. 'Ross Kelly.'
'Ross, it's Diana.' Lauren's mother sounded breathless. 'I'm calling from the hospital.'
Zeb's face turned pale and something cold uncoiled in Ross's stomach. 'What's wrong? What's happened?'
'Don't worry, Ross, it's good,' she said quickly. 'There's been a small but significant improvement. Lauren's off the ventilator. She's breathing for herself and the baby's getting oxygen. They've warned me not to get too excited because her prognosis hasn't really changed, but the baby's doing well.'
He was flooded with relief and shock. He continued to glare at the nun. 'When did they discover she was doing better, Diana?'
'Less than an hour ago.'
'Do they know how it happened?'
'Not yet. They're running tests – but the doctors said it was very unusual to get such a sudden improvement. Frankly it's a minor miracle, Ross.'
'I'll come over.'
'You don't need to. It's late and, like I said, they're running tests.
I'll stay with her till midnight. Why don't you come in first thing tomorrow morning?'
He glanced at his watch. It was late, and he wouldn't know any more until the test results were through. 'I'll do that, Diana. Thanks for letting me know.'
'See you tomorrow. Good night.'
He hung up, trying to process what had just happened. He didn't know whether to feel angry or grateful for the nun's meddling.
It was Zeb who broke the silence. 'You gave Lauren something from the garden?'
'Yes.'
'What?' demanded Ross.
'It doesn't matter. What matters is that it was all I had left, and it wasn't enough. We need more. A lot more.' She seemed suddenly very tired. 'Ross, I don't care how you explain Father Orlando's garden – religiously, scientifically, spiritually. Just know that it has the power to cure your wife and a lot more besides.' She slumped on to the chair beside him. 'And we haven't much time to find it. The medicine I gave Lauren was what I had saved for myself to help me make the arduous journey. I'm frail, and without me to interpret the directions I fear you'll never find it.' She smiled. 'So, whatever decision you make, Ross, make it soon. Because, with or without you, I'm going.'
21
That night, Ross slept on his decision, dreaming of his fragile family: Lauren and the baby, clinging to life; the baby trying desperately to enter the world, the mother fighting not to leave it.
While he slept, the assassin who had once been la mano sinistra del diavolo stealthily carried out his master's instructions.
First he attached digital taps to Ross's home phone lines.
Later, in the early hours of the morning, he entered the deserted corridors of the Sacred Heart Hospital wearing an orderly's uniform and carrying a black bag. When he was sure he was alone he entered room thirty-six of the spinal-injuries unit. As he approached the bed he checked the name on the chart and opened his bag. For a long moment he stared at the patient's inert form, listening to the rhythmic sound of the instruments that kept her alive. All the time his face remained expressionless, betraying no hint of what he was thinking. Eventually, he reached into the bag and did what the Father General had instructed him to do.
Then he cast a final glance at the bed and left. No one registered his presence, and if the bed's occupant had seen him she was in no position to tell.
22
Ross had hoped to wake having decided on a course of action, but he was as conflicted as he'd been when he'd gone to bed. And when he got to the hospital with his father, Lauren's neurologist didn't help matters.
'She's certainly improved,' said Greenbloom, 'although we don't know why. She can now breathe unaided and the swelling round the brainstem has lessened. The scans also revealed that some fractures on her damaged vertebrae are no longer visible, which again we can't explain. All this is good, but she's still in a deep coma, level one on the Rancho, and level three on the Glasgow coma scale.'
'How about the baby?'
'Its prognosis is marginally better,' the neurologist said cautiously.
'So what you're saying is, there's been a sudden improvement but the outlook hasn't changed?'
'Yes.'
Though Ross welcomed the removal of the ventilator, Greenbloom's analysis made it hard to feel upbeat. As he ate breakfast with his father in the small hospital canteen, he kept thinking about Father Orlando's garden. He waited for his father to finish his eggs and hash browns, then told him about it. He expected no-nonsense Sam Kelly to demand why he was even considering 'all that garbage'. Instead, he cradled his coffee cup in his large, calloused hands and frowned thoughtfully.
'All I know as a farmer is that nature's got a funny way of surprising you. So I'm not going to sit here and say there's no way the garden exists. Son, you're the one who left the farm to go to college. What's your education telling you? Could it exist?'
Ross considered his hypothesis again. 'I guess it's possible, in theory.'
'Could it help Lauren? I read somewhere that the jungles of the world are full of medicines and cures modern science doesn't yet know about.'
Ross thought of Lauren's improvement. 'Again, it's possible.'
'Possible sounds pretty good right now,' said his father. 'A hell of a lot better than what Dr Greenbloom keeps telling us.' He looked hard at Ross. 'Son, you've never been one to sit on your rump and wait for something to happen. What's stopping you now?'
'Leaving Lauren and the baby. If I search for this place I could be away, in the middle of nowhere, for at least a couple of months.'
Fire ignited in his father's usually calm eyes. 'I'll tell you one thing, son. If there was anything I could have done, however long a shot, to save your unborn brother all those years ago, or your mother when the cancer took her, I'd have done it in a heartbeat.' He smiled sadly. 'You're lucky, son. You can do something. I don't know your profession too well, but I understand it involves finding stuff. It's what you do and you're good at it. If there's even the slightest chance this garden exists then you can find it. And if saving Lauren and Junior means leaving them for a few months, then go ahead. I'll be here to mind things. I'm selling the farm, anyway. My heart ain't in it any more and you don't want it. Old Lou Jackman's made me a decent offer and I'm going to retire. So, don't you worry about Lauren and my grandchild. Let Lauren's mother and me watch over them for a while.'
Ross felt a rush of gratitude and hope. Here was something he could do at last. 'You sure, Dad?'
'Hell, son, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Say goodbye to Lauren, explain why you're going, then do your damnedest to save her. If you do nothing, you might regret it for the rest of your life.'
Filled with new purpose, Ross strode to Lauren's room and reached for his phone. The enthusiasm in Zeb Quinn's voice made him smile. 'Hey, Ross, have you decided yet?'
'Are you still in?' he asked.
'You bet. Are we going or what?'
'Yes,' he said. 'We're going.'
Her tone changed. 'You're okay about leaving Lauren?'
'Yes.' He tried to quash his doubts and match her enthusiasm. 'But only because I'm doing it for her.'
23
Overalls discarded, Marco Bazin sat on his bed in the Best Western Motel, a few yards from the Sacred Heart Hospital, and waited for Ross Kelly to reappear on his screen. The pictures on his laptop and the sound in his earphones came from the wireless surveillance camera and microphone he had concealed last night in the picture frame above Lauren Kelly's bed. Torino believed that whatever plans Ross had, he would open his heart to his comatose wife.
When the Superior General had called yesterday evening Bazin had been waiting in a Manhattan hotel. His instructions had been both cryptic and explicit: a treacherous nun had joined forces with the atheist geologist and together they posed a mortal danger to the Holy Mother Church. They threatened to expose and abuse a sacred place of great power that rightfully belonged to the Church – and only the Church. At first, Ross was simply to be followed, but if he threatened to publicize any details of his quest Bazin was to apprehend the nun and silence him. Permanently.
The Source Page 10
