The Lucifer Code (2010)

by Charles Brokaw

  ‘First of all, we haven’t been able to learn anything about the three kidnappers who were killed,’ Dawson said after all the requisite connections had been made.

  ‘That’s disappointing.’

  ‘Yes, sir. But the woman is a different story.’ Dawson brought up a picture of her.

  ‘That’s a pretty young woman.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘She intercepted Lourds at the airport.’

  ‘Young women.’

  ‘That’s right, sir. Evidently our opposition knows that.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  Dawson’s fingers tapped commands quickly on the keyboard. More pictures of the woman filled the screen. There weren’t very many, but there were enough. Some of them showed her on the street talking to people. Others were of her in a bar.

  ‘Her name is Cleena MacKenna.’

  ‘Irish?’

  Dawson nodded. ‘Very Irish. Her father, Ryan MacKenna, was part of the Continuity Irish Republican Army. He was responsible for a number of attacks against the British military and Royal Ulster Constabulary. Some reports I’ve seen put his kills at seven, others at thirteen.’

  Dawson tapped more keys and photographs of MacKenna’s victims showed.

  ‘A dangerous man,’ Webster commented. ‘However, the world seems full of them these days. Is he involved with this?’

  ‘No, sir. Ryan MacKenna was killed six years ago.’ Dawson brought up the news clippings. ‘Evidently he got caught up in an arms deal that went sour. A Chinese street gang called the Hungry Ghosts intercepted him and his seller. Both of them were murdered.’

  ‘Because I think Professor Lourds’ weakness may be exploitable for us.’

  ‘Explain.’

  Dawson went back to the pictures of Cleena MacKenna. ‘When Ryan MacKenna was killed, he left behind two daughters. Years before, his wife was killed in their home, supposedly by police officers seeking revenge for one of their number that MacKenna had slain. No one knows if MacKenna really killed that policeman or even if it was policemen that killed his wife. But, either way, MacKenna moved his girls to Boston.’

  ‘That’s where Lourds is from.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Cleena was twelve when her father moved her to Boston. Her younger sister, Brigid, was six. Evidently Cleena finished high school, started college and joined her father in the family business.’

  ‘Arms dealing?’

  ‘Exactly. The FBI has an open file regarding their business. Ryan MacKenna was good at what he did, a very careful man. Nobody ever got a whiff of evidence against them.’

  ‘Until that night with the Chinese gang.’

  ‘Yes, sir. It’s hard to clean up evidence when you’re dead. Cleena was nineteen when her father was killed. According to the FBI files I’ve seen, Cleena MacKenna spent seven months tracking down those gang members. She killed sixteen of them before they left the city. Not that we can prove it.’

  ‘Yes, sir. After she’d finished dealing with her father’s killers, Cleena MacKenna dropped out of college and became a full-time mercenary and arms dealer. She’s hired out since then to do retrieval work – assets and people – as well as assassinations.’

  ‘Ambitious young woman, isn’t she?’

  Dawson nodded. ‘Yes, sir. And very good at what she does. The FBI and Boston Police Department have been on her trail for the last six years. Even Interpol has her marked as a person of interest in some cases they’re working on. None of those people has made a case yet.’

  ‘Obviously a very careful young woman as well,’ Webster said. ‘I’m sure the law enforcement authorities haven’t been the only threats she’s weathered.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Webster poured more wine and reached for another roll. ‘What are you thinking, Jimmy?’

  ‘Whoever this group is that has Lourds, they hired Cleena MacKenna to trail him from Boston to Istanbul. She travelled under a forged passport, but we know who she is. We can find her.’

  ‘And hire her ourselves?’

  ‘Or at least pay her for any information she might have about the people who hired her to help kidnap Professor Lourds.’

  ‘I’d like to know more about these kidnappers,’ Webster said, ‘and how they came to be interested in

  Dawson didn’t point out that he still didn’t know why the vice-president wanted to bring Lourds in. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Webster sipped his wine. ‘Not to rain on your parade, Jimmy, but Cleena MacKenna might be reluctant to sell out her previous employers. People like that have a reputation to live up to.’

  Dawson only hesitated for a second. A lot of politicians didn’t like to risk getting their hands dirty. Vice-President Elliott Webster wasn’t one of them, but he didn’t like getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  ‘If by chance there is some residual moral high ground still lurking inside her mind,’ Dawson said, ‘we can just remind her that we know who she is and where her young sister goes to college.’

  ‘Do you think you can contact this young woman?’

  ‘Yes, sir. We have assets that she’ll need to get out of the country. The cover identity she used to get into Istanbul is blown. The local law enforcement people, and part of the criminal element there, are going to be looking for her. Sooner or later, she’ll come to someone we have a relationship with. Then we’ll have her.’

  ‘That sounds like a good plan, Jimmy. There’s only one catch that I see.’

  ‘What’s that, sir?’

  ‘There is the distinct possibility that her employers won’t let her live. They don’t appear to be the trusting sort.’

  ‘After we’re finished with her, Jimmy, I think we should probably limit our exposure as well.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’ And that was the best thing Dawson liked about the vice-president: when it came to intelligence work, they thought along the same lines. ‘I’ll take care of it personally.’ He pressed the keys on the computer and the woman disappeared.

  Catacombs

  Yesilkoy District

  Istanbul, Turkey

  16 March 2010

  Lourds struggled to wakefulness.

  Then he remembered the helicopter exploding overhead, the flaming pieces of it ringing as they slammed into the alley. And he remembered the hypodermic being thrust into his leg. Pain in his thigh suddenly increased.

  He forced his eyes open and didn’t think he’d succeeded because he still couldn’t see. Then he realized that he couldn’t see because he was somewhere dark. There was absolutely no light. He felt as though he’d been shrouded in black cotton.

  Shifting, he tried to sit up, then discovered he was in fact sitting. Not only that, but someone had tied him to a chair. The rope pulled tightly into his flesh. His kidneys also suddenly declared they were losing the war against containment.

  He cleared his throat and heard the sound echo.

  Sudden fear spiked through him when he realized that the echoes sounded muffled, like he was in some was afraid of what was going to be done to him by whoever had taken him. Stiff patches on his shirt told him he’d been at least unconscious long enough for the blood to dry. He felt more dried blood on his hands and face.

  He thought about just sitting there, hoping that whoever had taken him had forgotten about him. But his kidneys were screaming for relief and he thought he’d rather die with some dignity. That meant no wet pants.

  Of course, as soon as you see a gun or knife in someone’s hand, that’s subject to change. Lourds had never been one to fool himself about his personal bravery. He was brave neither by habit nor by choice.

  Quietly, he cleared his throat again, then called out politely, ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

  Cleena MacKenna lounged against the wall of the catacombs where her latest employers had brought her. She wasn’t surprised to find the city was honeycombed with tunnels. Most port cities and older cities

  At first, Cleena’s father had been angry with her when he’d found out w
here she was. Later, after she’d shown him some places they could use to hide the weapons he had bought, sold and traded, he hadn’t been as angry. He just hadn’t liked the idea of her crawling around dangerous places in the dark. Cleena had enjoyed it, had relished the excitement of going through those tunnels. It had been like entering another world.

  A dozen men occupied the stone room she sat in now. They sat on crates and kegs brought by earlier visitors to the catacombs. Heavy-duty battery-powered lanterns pushed away some of the darkness inside the room, but Cleena still felt it was like a scene from one of those silly horror movies her younger sister liked to watch.

  The men were passionate about whatever had brought them together. The tense and strident tones in their voices told her that. They didn’t speak in English, which was frustrating because Cleena wished she

  The comfortable weight of the pistol she had picked up during the fire fight rested at her back. Her right hand was never far from the weapon. The men knew that. They had the watchful eyes of trained killers.

  ‘Hey,’ Cleena said interrupting them.

  The man turned and looked at her, but said nothing.

  ‘I don’t mean to bust up your little tea party,’ she said, ‘but I want my money and I want to get gone from this place. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a huge dragnet going on throughout the city right now. I need to get out before it closes in on me.’

  For a moment, the men continued staring at her without speaking. The whole experience was creepy and just a tad threatening.

  ‘Anyone?’ Cleena prompted.

  One of the men stood and approached her. Cleena’s hand slid down slightly to grip the butt of the pistol.

  ‘Please accept my apologies, Miss MacKenna.’ The man looked like he was in his thirties, dark skinned and dark haired. Lean and handsome, he could’ve been a ladies’ man if he’d wanted to be. But there was something that burned in his eyes that told Cleena he would never be satisfied with anything as trivial as that. ‘My name is Qayin. Given the circumstances, I must ask you to be a little patient with us. Things did not go as we had planned.’

  ‘I’m sure something can be arranged quite soon,’ Qayin told her confidently. ‘You went far beyond what was expected of you.’

  That gave Cleena a bad feeling. No one in her line of work ever offered a bonus.

  ‘If you’ll be patient just a little bit longer,’ Qayin said, ‘I’m certain you’ll be taken care of.’

  Cleena made herself nod. She resolved to get out of the catacombs at the first opportunity. Screw the money. It was apparent to her she wasn’t going to get the balance of the payment. Either they would simply stiff her or they would try to put a bullet between her eyes. The bullet was looking more and more likely.

  Qayin’s eyes were cold and she wondered if he could read her thoughts. But he left her there and went back to the group. Most of the argument seemed to revolve round a notebook the men kept passing back and forth. It was obviously handmade. The leather binding was hand-stitched and the paper had a lot of rag content. Cleena knew about rag content in paper because she had dabbled in counterfeit currency.

  Brigid’s next year of college at Cambridge was coming up soon and Cleena’s nest egg had dwindled over the winter because business had been slow and payments not as good. The recession was causing cutbacks even in crime. No matter what it took, Cleena was determined that her sister would get the chance

  And you didn’t get one this time, either. Cleena cursed her luck.

  The man had the book open again. They moved one of the lanterns closer to the pages. Even from across the room, Cleena could see the designs that filled the space, but she didn’t know what they were or what they signified. However, since she had helped kidnap a noted linguistics scholar, she would have bet Brigid’s next year’s college tuition that the man expected the professor to read that page.

  Qayin sighed in exasperation and ran a long-fingered hand through his hair. His suit jacket moved back just enough to briefly reveal the pistol holstered at his hip. He looked up at one of the men, said something, and jerked his head for the doorway.

  The man was gone only for a moment before returning. He spoke quickly.

  Qayin closed the notebook and turned to face Cleena. ‘It appears the professor is awake. Would you care to join us?’

  Cleena couldn’t help but wonder what the man’s response would be if she had said no.

  She smiled at Qayin. ‘I’d love to.’ Movement was good. As long as she was moving, she had a chance to find a way to escape.

  He blew out all his breath, then attempted to raise his hands and slither down below the ropes. He remembered reading something about an escape attempt like that in one of the adventure novels he read whenever his studies permitted.

  Those people in books were always thinking.

  The plan worked a lot better for the character in the novel than it did for Lourds. He just ended up getting more winded and was afraid for a moment that he had trapped himself in a position that would slowly strangle him. During his frantic efforts to return himself to his previous position, Lourds shoved back against the chair and it fell over with him still attached to it. He landed with a harsh bang and the back of his head struck the stone floor.

  Lying on his back, he realized that his new position was much worse than where he had initially been. Now the blood was draining to his head and causing his temples to throb. And it wasn’t just his pants he had to worry about wetting thanks to gravity and angle. He let out a heartfelt sigh.

  As an adventure hero, you make a much better linguistics professor.

  He wondered if it would be too embarrassing to call out for help again. On the other hand, that course of action might simply hasten his death.

  I don’t have these kinds of problems in lecture halls.

  A few minutes later, swaying incandescent light filtered into the room.

  Lourds narrowed his eyes against the light because it seemed so bright. At least ten figures approached him and he saw there were multiple lights among them. When they got close enough, he only recognized one of them.

  The young redhead peered down at him in disbelief. ‘You managed to do this to yourself by yourself?’

  ‘It was the chair,’ Lourds protested. ‘It wasn’t properly set on the floor.’

  ‘How do you get out of bed in the morning without breaking your neck?’

  Lourds struggled to hang onto his dignity, but lying on his back with a full bladder while tied to a chair made that almost impossible. ‘I get out of bed just fine. I’m just not much of an escape artist.’

  The young woman folded her arms and looked at him disparagingly. ‘You suck as an escape artist.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Lourds said dryly. He looked at the men that circled him. ‘Who are your friends?’

  ‘Employers.’

  Lourds tried to shrug, but found he couldn’t while tied up this way. ‘However you wish to designate them.’

  ‘I’ve been told. But after having been abducted at gunpoint, shot at and nearly blown up, I think my behaviour is perfectly understandable.’ Lourds kept his fear in check. ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘Now, Professor Lourds, we’ll see if your abilities match your reputation,’ one of the men said.

  Lourds glanced at the man but was certain he had never seen him before in his life. ‘You know who I am?’

  The man regarded Lourds with a cold, penetrating gaze. ‘I do, but that doesn’t mean you’re the one I seek.’

  If I’m not, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble for nothing. It was something a hero in a novel or in a movie would say. But it wouldn’t be said while lying on their backs tied to a chair. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut.

  The man turned away and gestured to Lourds. ‘Get him up.’

  Two men grabbed hold of the chair and righted Lourds. The jarring did his kidneys no good at all.

  ‘If I can draw your attention to something important,’ Lourds said, ‘I’ve
been tied to this chair for a long time. Is there a lavatory nearby?’

  The leader of the group said something to one of the men. Lourds found it strange that he didn’t know the dialect or the language. He knew enough of most languages to get along in them.

  The man quickly bowed, then departed. He returned promptly and dropped a rusty bucket at Lourds’ feet.

  Lourds couldn’t believe it. ‘Surely you’re jesting.’

  ‘I’m going to need to stand up.’

  The man nodded. One of the others untied the ropes in a simple movement. Lourds felt even more foolish when the man made it look so easy. His hands and forearms stung as blood rushed back into them.

  Lourds looked at the woman. ‘I would prefer it if you turned your back.’

  ‘You’re modest?’ The woman raised her eyebrows sceptically. ‘After that moment we shared in the alley?’

  Lourds wasn’t sure if the young woman was trying to impress him or the men. It didn’t matter. He fumbled with his zip and got everything arranged properly. Gratefully, Lourds let loose and sighed in relief. Unfortunately, his aim wasn’t all it could have been. Or that’s what he made it look like. The boots of at least two of the men standing near him got soaked. They screamed in protest and jumped back.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Lourds said as he fastened his trousers again. But he wasn’t.

  The leader held out a book open to a page. ‘I want you to read this, Professor Lourds.’

  Lourds stared at the page and tried to make sense of the symbols across it. The symbols weren’t written on the page, not exactly. It was more as though the writing had left indentations on the paper, like a brass rubbing of an old tombstone. The writing was actually white blank spaces in the centre of a graphite smear.