Lucifer (aka the Lucifer Code) (2001)

by Cordy, Michael

  Amber checked her watch. 'Is there any chance of speaking to Dr Fleming before I go?'

  'Not if you want to make your flight. If he comes in at all today, it won't be for some time.'

  Amber was disappointed. Now she would have to wait for the NeuroTranslator results. 'Could you please pass on my condolences about his brother, and thank him and his team for me? And I need to arrange to come back and finish my treatment.'

  'Don't worry about that now. The clinic will contact you to continue where you left off. That's no problem.'

  By nine fifteen she was in a limousine pulling out of Barley Hall. In the rear-view mirror she watched the majestic house recede into the distance. As the car passed the turning to Cambridge, she didn't see the Jaguar heading in the opposite direction.

  Fifteen minutes later the uniformed driver offered her a small bottle of Evian. She was thirsty, and as she watched signs for the Mil and London come into view she sipped it.

  A sudden lethargy struck her on the Mil. When the car reached the M25 she was unconscious. At the turning for the M4 it drove past the signs for Heathrow and carried on to Maidenhead. Here the driver turned into the drive of a large red-brick Victorian property with a white sign by the gates: The Church of the Soul Truth Hospice. The Church's symbol, a stylized representation of the Red Ark with a cruciform mast, featured beneath the text.

  The car drove straight into a garage behind the property. Amber's prostrate body was moved from the limousine, carried into the hospice mortuary and placed in a ready-prepared insulated burial casket with oxygen tanks and an intravenous drip.

  The necessary customs papers and death certificate were prepared in the name of Jane Smith and stamped with the hospice name. Two doctors' signatures had been scrawled on the blank forms. The personnel who processed Amber and the relevant administration did so with a calm, unquestioning precision that indicated they had done this before. Finally the white coffin was closed and the locked casket was placed in a hearse then driven to the freight area of Terminal 4.

  Two hours later Amber Grant's unconscious body was in the air, safely stowed in the climate-controlled hold of a Boeing 747, flying in more comfort than the most pampered first-class passenger ever did.

  *

  The Red Ark. 18deg 06' S, 16deg 03' W

  The Red Pope was filled with energy, and he was oblivious to the pain that racked his body. Dressed in full-length starched scarlet robes he paced around his office in the prow of the Red Ark. The anticipation that he might be close to the end of his quest was so strong he could almost taste it.

  'Everything in place at your end, Doctor?' he demanded of the shadowy face on the television screen above his desk.

  'The laboratory's being prepared now, Your Holiness,' Soames said. He was smiling. 'It'll be ready soon enough.'

  Are the Truth Council on standby?'

  'As soon as you get here they'll all be available -in person or online.'

  'Excellent.' Accosta turned to Diageo standing silently by the door. 'Monsignor, you have made the other arrangements? Tied up all the loose ends?'

  'Our contacts in London and-'

  Accosta smiled at Diageo. 'No details, Monsignor Diageo.' Diageo's shadier contacts in the secular world had their uses but Accosta's burden was heavy enough without knowing about them. 'Do what you must do, Monsignor. Simply tell me that everything is in place.'

  Diageo nodded impassively. 'It is.'

  'Excellent.' Accosta turned and looked out of the vast picture window at the limitless ocean stretching before him. He retrieved a handkerchief from his robe pocket and coughed violently into it. Diageo stepped closer to him but Accosta waved him away. 'Tell the bridge to head north, full speed ahead. And prepare both helicopters. I want to be at the Foundation within twenty-four hours. Make my apologies to those on board with whom I was to speak, and run looped repeats of my sermons for today's services.'

  He looked down. The white handkerchief was flecked with spots of red. He felt no fear: he was confident that when the time came he would be ready.

  Barley Hall. 9.30 a. M.

  Despite his exhaustion, Miles Fleming's mind burned with possibilities as he parked his Jaguar and hurried in to see Amber. After the excitement of last night or, more accurately, this morning, Knight had sent him home to snatch a few hours' sleep. When he did doze off he had slept through his usual six o'clock alarm call.

  He couldn't stop thinking of what this new wavelength might mean. There had to be a rational explanation for it; he was sure of that. He just needed time to research it. The scientist in him was driven to know more, recognizing that this finding eclipsed the discovery of microwaves a few decades ago. However, another part of him wished he could undiscover the new wavelength because its existence threatened everything he believed in. What if there was more to our existence than this life? What if there was a hereafter? What did that mean for his exclusive focus on the here and now? And what did it mean for Rob's soul? And, as Jake had demanded, was heaven a good place? Did he really want to know the answers?

  'Miles, we need to talk,' Knight called, as Fleming passed her office. She sounded grim as she ushered him in and sat him down. After Rob's death she had been sympathetic but detached, keen to know exactly what had happened. Last night when he had told her about Amber Grant, she had been cautious. 'Miles, I've been talking to the other trustees and there are a few concerns I need to make you aware of,' she said now; Fleming frowned. 'What concerns?' 'I wanted to wait but you're here now so we may as well cover them. Since Rob died during an experiment here we have to ensure that Barley Hall's reputation for safety is whiter than white.'

  'Virginia, he was my brother. I feel awful about this but the trial didn't cause Rob's death.'

  'Miles, this is about perception. I know it wasn't your fault and the independent inquiry won't-' 'Inquiry? What the hell are you talking about?' 'Just a formality. These are delicate times. There are sponsors to think of and significant donations at stake. There's a rumour that you didn't do all you could to save your patient and we want to nip it in the bud before the press blow it out of all proportion. It's simply a case of sending you away on leave for a few weeks and then, once the inquiry has vindicated you - as we know it will - you can come back. Full pay, of course, and-'

  Fleming was astonished. 'You're suspending me? Come on, Virginia, you must be joking. I already told you that after four ineffective attempts to revive my brother I stopped the nurse using epinephrine. I feel terrible about what happened but I'd do it again. To all intents and purposes he was dead and I didn't want to prolong his suffering. I did nothing wrong. There's no cover-up. It's all on video, for Christ's sake. Let me talk to the trustees. I can sort this out.'

  Knight shook her head. 'I'm sorry, Miles, but I agree with the trustees on this one. We have to protect Barley Hall's reputation in the short term and yours in the long term. This way we can clear the air and avoid even the suspicion of a cover-up. The press-'

  'What have the press got to do with this? They don't need to be involved. Why should they suspect a cover-up? Rob was my brother, for Christ's sake.'

  'I'm sorry, Miles, this isn't up for discussion.'

  Fleming was barely able to contain himself. 'This is ludicrous, Virginia. What about Amber Grant and the new wavelength? We're tantaliz-ingly close to something amazing and you want to examine whether or not I'm to blame for my own brother's death.'

  'That's something else I need to discuss with you, Miles. There's to be no mention of what happened in the experiment. It's bad enough that Rob died and we don't want to fan the flames of interest with stories about communicating from beyond the grave. I've spoken to the others involved in the trial and have explained that what happened was nothing more than a lag effect. As far as they and anybody else are concerned the official explanation is Rob's neural signals were active before he died but were only transmitted after his death because of a delay in the Neuro-Translator - a technicality.'

  Fleming
slammed his fist on the desk. 'What about Amber Grant?'

  'As of now that's not your concern. She's had to return to California. Her mother's close to death.'

  'She went this morning? You told her about the-'

  'She's got enough to worry about now, Miles. I guess we should leave her alone for the time being. When the situation with her mother is resolved and you get back from leave-'

  'Suspension.'

  'Look, Miles, I'm truly sorry about Rob and know as well as you do what a potentially huge discovery this wavelength is. But we need to be real careful how we handle it. At the moment we don't want or need any half-assed leaps in the dark. Go away for a few weeks - it is not suspension - and think things through. When this episode blows over you can come back fully vindicated and continue your work, including this new wavelength. Your patients will all be looked after, including Jake if he needs any follow-up treatment before you get back. All trials will be carried out according to your wishes. Go home and relax. Take some holiday, spend some time with Jake, get your head together.'

  Fleming paced around the room. 'How can I relax, Virginia? This isn't right. This is bloody stupid. What if I refuse?'

  'Miles, you've got to trust me. Don't make this any more difficult than it already is. I don't want to call Security and escort you off the premises but I will if I have to.'

  'What? You want me to leave now?'

  'It's best. Clear your desk and go home. Don't worry about telling anybody or explaining anything, I'll do that.'

  Fleming took a deep breath and held his arms tight down by his side, not trusting himself to control his anger. 'I don't know what's going on here, Virginia, but this is bullshit. I'm going to fight it. It isn't going to end here.'

  Knight stood up. 'Miles, be reasonable. You need time out. Rob's death has been a greater shock than you realize. If you go against the trustees' wishes I can't protect you against punitive action.'

  'Protect me?' Fleming walked round the desk and stood inches from his boss, looking her in the eye until she turned away. 'I always knew you were a bureaucrat, Virginia, but I never thought you could be so petty. I'm going to do what I need to do. No more. No less. If you don't like it then do what you need to do. Trust me, there are plenty of other institutions who would welcome my work with open arms.'

  Ten minutes later Fleming was speeding through the narrow country lanes towards home. The Jaguar's soft top was down, and as the trees raced by their golden leaves waved in the breeze. Listening to it he was reminded of the scream that had issued from the NeuroTranslator speakers, and his dead brother was on his mind.

  At that moment, turning his car towards Cambridge, Fleming's molten anger cooled into something harder. He knew he couldn't wait patiently for the inquiry to run its course. He felt an obligation to Amber, Rob and Jake - and to himself - to explore this further and find some answers.

  Answers to questions about life and death, which no other mortal man had yet been in a position to supply.

  *

  The VenTec Foundation. Alaska.

  Eighteen hours later

  The Chinook flew low over the Brooks mountain range in the Arctic sector of northern Alaska. Accosta wiped the glass window beside him and looked down, straining to see the Foundation. He knew the converted oil-rig must be close now but there was no sign of it in the rocky white wasteland below or in the towering mountains on either side of him. Then he glanced up, above the helicopter's churning rotor blades, and saw a glint of weak sunlight on the highest peak.

  Peering through the grimy window he could just make out a structure on the flat summit. Supported on eight angled struts, the black glass dome resembled an enormous spider squatting on the mountaintop. A satellite dish and a pylon stood beside it and a funnel pushed upwards from its glass skin. Beneath the dome he could just see a vast central pillar rooting the structure deep into the mountain, and housing the old drilling machinery and borehole. Jutting out from one side of the dome, an apron of steel formed a semicircular platform. Accosta's stomach lurched as the helicopter dropped towards it.

  It was an early afternoon in October and the light was already fading. The days were now only a few hours long and in a few weeks there would be no sunlight at all for almost five months. Accosta had no fondness for this bleak place, but he understood why Soames insisted on being based here and he himself valued seclusion. Above all, he needed the expertise and resources housed within its walls, which were funded and administered by Soames.

  When the helicopter landed on the platform, his entourage ushered him out into the biting cold before escorting him through thick tinted-glass sliding doors into the warmth of the main reception area. The doors had a large V engraved into the glass and a logo: 'VenTec -Past the Present to the Future.'

  Inside, Accosta's coat was taken from him as the security door leading to the unrestricted white sector hissed open. In the subdued light of the windowless corridor Dr Bradley Soames was waiting in a white bodysuit. Accosta was relieved to see that his wolves weren't with him: there was something otherworldly about them that he hated - and feared. The scientist greeted him as a host would an honoured guest: he genuflected and kissed the crucifix that hung from the Red Pope's neck.

  'Welcome, Your Holiness.'

  'Thank you, Doctor.'

  'The other members of the Truth Council are-'

  Accosta raised his hand and smiled, 'Can we discuss that later? I'm impatient to see her. Is she here?'

  'Follow me, Your Holiness. She's secured in the black sector.'

  Accosta followed Soames down the corridor through the white sector. VenTec was laid out like a pie: four colour-coded slices surrounded the central pillar of the dome. The front white sector was unrestricted and contained the communal areas and general laboratories. The blue, green and black sectors were all restricted, open only to those with the necessary clearance. Accessed by an elevator in the central pillar, there was a fifth sector beneath the dome, deep in the mountain itself. This was the red sector, also restricted.

  As they passed through the white sector, their heels clicked on the varnished beechwood floor. The conditioned air was devoid of odour but held a hint of static. To his left Accosta could see a series of open-plan laboratories. Some were empty except for unrecognizable apparatus; others were peopled with technicians and scientists in white bodysuits like the Doctor's. One was filled with row upon row of computers, whose screens flickered with intense white light.

  In the residential quarters, Accosta barely glanced at the white chevrons on the sheer walls, which gave directions to the various facilities: the accommodation suites, restaurants, the cinema, medical suite, swimming-pool, gymnasium and a prayer room. The few external windows were tinted blue and gave the external Arctic landscape an even more frigid outlook.

  Reaching the central pillar, the elevator leading to the red sector was marked with red chevrons and warnings: Authorized Personnel Only. Eye Shields Obligatory. Turning left, they passed another sealed security door, which led to the green sector.

  Finally the corridor curved round to the northernmost slice of VenTec, the black sector, home of the Soul Project.

  Opening the glass security door by placing his palm on a sensor beside the locking mechanism, Soames led Accosta through the complex, passing the conference room and communication room to the main laboratory. Outside he introduced Accosta to a striking blonde woman and a tall black man in glasses. Both wore the enamelled cruciform of the Church of the Soul Truth on their white bodysuits. The woman wore a musky perfume that Accosta found overpowering.

  'Dr Felicia Bukowski and Dr Walter Tripp have been helping me on the Soul Project. Most of the work we've done so far is largely down to them.'

  Accosta shook their hands. 'You are embarked on a sacred and glorious venture and I thank you for all your work and ingenuity'

  'It's an honour to be involved,' Tripp said.

  A privilege, Your Holiness,' added the blonde woman.

  Acco
sta studied them for a second. Both were respectful but there was something about their manner and the way they returned his smile that didn't ring true. He prided himself on being able to see into a person's heart, and although he couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong, he felt as if the scientists were humouring him - two precocious children indulging a dull relative. He brushed these thoughts aside, and allowed Soames to usher him into the black sector's private accommodation suites.

  Soames stopped at the first door and gestured for Accosta to look through a round porthole in the wall. 'She's asleep in there. The drugs will wear off soon.'

  Accosta stepped close to the glass and stared at the woman in the single bed. She was attached to an intravenous drip and a life-signs monitor, which beeped with reassuring regularity. 'How is she?'

  'Fine. She'll be kind of woo2y when she wakes, but she'll be strong enough when we're ready for her.'