The Lucifer Code (2010)

by Charles Brokaw

  Lourds didn’t know if the robed men were armed. He could see no weapons, but the robes concealed a lot. He suddenly felt like a choice meat bone being growled over by two dogs. The thing that most captured his attention was the statement about how long people had been searching for the secret he presently had in his possession. He pulled the backpack’s straps a little tighter.

  Then he remembered the other men at the airport.

  ‘You didn’t try to contact me at the airport yesterday morning, did you?’

  ‘No, Professor,’ the young man answered.

  So there is a third party after me, Lourds realized.

  ‘Professor?’ Cleena asked. ‘The decision is yours. Do you want to stay with them?’

  ‘They’ve said that they’re taking me to my hotel room,’ Lourds replied.

  Lourds shrugged. ‘They haven’t kidnapped me.’

  An insouciant smile quirked her lips. ‘Yet.’ She paused. ‘I wish you well, professor. It’s been … interesting, but I hope you don’t take offence when I tell you I hope never to see you again.’

  ‘No offence taken. And I hope you don’t mind that the feeling is mutual.’

  Gun in hand, Cleena backed down the alley for one hundred paces. Then she turned and fled, rounding the corner at the end of the alley and disappearing.

  ‘Professor Lourds,’ the young man prompted, ‘are you ready to go to your hotel now?’

  ‘Of course. Give me just a second.’ Lourds rummaged in his backpack and took out the pen and paper he’d worked with earlier. He already knew the avenues he wanted to follow with the translation. As he made notes, his fascination grew.

  Returning to the hotel proved less clandestine than Lourds would have believed. The group doffed their robes and threw them into a rubbish bin, then escorted him to the other end of the alley and hailed a cab. Only the young man with the goatee accompanied Lourds on the journey. No longer dressed in the robe, he looked like anyone. Like a student, actually, Lourds thought. He wore khaki slacks, loafers and a soccer jersey. He would have been perfectly at home on the greens at Harvard.

  Around them, Istanbul had come to life. Pedestrians and tourists filled the streets: some window-shopped

  The initial settlement had been made in 6500 BC on the Anatolian side of the area. The Fikirtepe mound had revealed artefacts dating from 5500–3500 BC, during the Copper Age. One of the ports, Kadikoy, also known as Chalcedon, had been active during the time of the Phoenicians. The Bosphorus River held the record for the narrowest strait used for international travel. According to ancient Greek myth, the river had been named after Io, one of Zeus’s lovers after the god turned her into an ox to protect her from his jealous wife. Usually Lourds found himself soothed by the presence of so much history around him. Despite the modern additions to the area, it wasn’t hard to imagine the seaport city as it had been during its heyday. The salty sea air wouldn’t have had the taint of diesel, but otherwise it would have smelled much the same.

  But Lourds couldn’t relax. He kept expecting an assault from any front.

  ‘You didn’t mention your name,’ Lourds said.

  The young man smiled and shook his head. ‘I cannot. Please forgive me this social inadequacy. I have very strict orders.’

  ‘Regarding me? Or the book?’

  ‘They are the same.’

  ‘Seeing as how I’ve been under the threat of death since I arrived in the city, isn’t there something you can tell me?’

  ‘Kind of oblique, don’t you think?’ Lourds asked.

  ‘In your field of study, you’ve covered a lot of history. Have you ever known a prophecy that was not oblique?’

  ‘This is about a prophecy?’

  ‘No. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.’ The young man trailed his fingers through his goatee and looked pained. ‘Honestly, Professor, I wish that I could tell you more.’

  ‘Besides you, and Qayin’s people, who else knows about this?’

  ‘Several people know something of the background regarding the book, and the secret it protects. Qayin’s people have had it for a very long time.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘The last three hundred and thirty-seven years.’

  ‘In this city?’

  ‘That book,’ the young man said, ‘has never left this city.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It isn’t permitted.’

  Lourds shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. Anyone could leave this city with the book.’

  ‘Could you?’ The young man smiled with bright interest. ‘I wonder if you could.’

  ‘Is that a challenge?’

  ‘The challenge, Professor, is whether you can decipher the book and find what it hides.’

  ‘Yes. As would Qayin. There are others who seek the book as well. If you stay here, we can protect you to some degree.’

  ‘Like you did yesterday?’

  ‘We didn’t know you were in jeopardy until yesterday,’ the young man said.

  ‘You didn’t know Qayin would kidnap me?’

  ‘No. It wasn’t until his lackeys were recognized that we knew of Qayin’s involvement.’

  ‘Qayin thought I might be able to decipher the book and your people didn’t?’

  ‘Sorry, but no, we didn’t.’

  Lourds emitted a displeased grunt.

  ‘Please don’t take that as a slight against your ability, Professor,’ the young man said. ‘We’ve had people working on that book for generations. During those years, my superiors have come to the conclusion that we weren’t waiting for an individual to translate that text. We were waiting for a time.’

  Somewhat mollified, Lourds nodded. ‘You think now is the time?’

  ‘We are prepared to wait and see. And to allow you your chance with the book. When we found Qayin’s hiding place and discovered that you were able to translate portions of the book, it was decided that perhaps the time might be now.’ The young man glanced out of the window but Lourds knew

  ‘Qayin must have had a higher estimation of my abilities than you,’ Lourds said.

  ‘Perhaps.’ The young man glanced at Lourds again. ‘Or perhaps he was merely more desperate.’

  ‘I suppose there’s no slight intended in that observation either.’

  ‘No. I apologize. I’m used to being very blunt in matters concerning that book.’

  The cab slowed, then pulled into the entrance lane of the Eserin Crown Hotel. A liveried expediter stepped up to the side of the cab and opened the door for Lourds. The man was professional enough to only look askance at the professor’s dishevelled appearance for a moment.

  ‘Good morning, sir,’ the expediter greeted. ‘Welcome to the Eserin Crown Hotel.’

  ‘Good morning,’ Lourds responded. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Do you have any bags?’

  Lourds almost laughed. Had the situation been funny, he might have. ‘No, I suppose I don’t.’ That was going to be a problem. He turned back to the young man in the cab. ‘Will I see you again?’

  ‘That remains to be seen.’ He extended a hand. ‘Good luck, Professor. I hope you’re successful in your endeavour. In any event, we will be in touch.’

  Lourds didn’t know if he was supposed to feel threatened, but he did. Having nothing else to say, he closed the cab’s door and stepped back. The cab driver

  Lourds waved back and felt immediately stupid. He turned to the expediter. ‘I suppose the hotel has good security?’

  ‘Of course, sir. Only the very best.’

  ‘And someone on site?’

  The expediter looked at Lourds curiously. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Very good.’ Lourds allowed the man to open the door for him and stepped into an elegant foyer. Guests and staff stared at him as though he were a street person. He had to admit that, with torn clothing and covered in dirt, he would have easily passed muster as one of those.

  Gathering his dignity, Lourds approached the check-in desk. A beautiful young woman i
n a business suit looked up at him and politely said hello. Lourds gave her his name. The young woman’s face brightened immediately, but it was clearly a struggle. Lourds was certain she was probably downwind of him.

  ‘Ah, of course. Professor Lourds,’ the young woman said brightly. ‘We had expected you yesterday.’

  ‘I take it you haven’t been watching the news.’

  The young woman gazed at him blankly. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I was delayed,’ Lourds replied. ‘It was in the news.’

  ‘Sorry. I must have missed it.’ She made quick entries into the computer and asked for a credit card

  ‘One, thank you.’ Lourds took the proffered key and headed for the elevator bank.

  ‘Oh, Professor Lourds,’ the desk clerk called.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’ll find your bags are already in your room.’

  ‘Really? Who delivered them?’

  The clerk shrugged and looked at her computer. ‘The screen doesn’t say. Only that the bags were delivered yesterday afternoon.’

  Lourds thanked her and took the elevator up to his room. You really shouldn’t be doing this, he thought. If you had any sense, you’d take a taxi to the airport and board the first flight back to Boston that you could get.

  But he knew he wasn’t going to do that. The mystery of the book was calling out to him.

  Outside his room door, Lourds hesitated with the electronic keycard in hand. Cold fear shivered through him and nausea twisted his stomach. He really wasn’t prepared for anything like this.

  Despite his efforts to find lost Atlantis, and all the dangers he’d faced then, he wasn’t mentally or physically suited for the rigours of getting shot at and beaten. Those were experiences he much preferred to read about in the thrillers he relished. He was a simple man, really.

  With his hands shaking the way they were, it took three attempts to get the keycard through the reader. The lock clicked and the light flashed green, indicating

  A mirror hung over the desk. When Lourds flipped on the nearby light and sought to check the damage done to his face, he saw the reflection of a man sitting comfortably in a chair beside the bed. Lourds hadn’t been able to see the man until it was too late.

  He span round and headed for the exit, pausing only long enough to snag the backpack. Before he reached the door, it opened and a large man filled the doorway. The man stepped into the room and Lourds backed up.

  ‘Ah, Professor Lourds, I presume.’ The man in the chair beside the bed smiled apologetically. ‘I beg your indulgence. I feel like Stanley meeting Doctor Livingstone.’

  Lourds stood his ground when the big man stopped advancing. The room was on the fourth floor. Even if he were able to crash through the reinforced glass of the window, when that shattered, he wouldn’t survive the fall.

  ‘I understood the reference,’ Lourds said.

  The man smiled. ‘I knew you would. I don’t often get to talk to people so well educated in my line of work.’

  ‘Maybe you should tell me what your line of work is. Other than breaking and entering into hotel rooms.’

  ‘My Turkish is fantastic.’ Lourds took the document the man held out and glanced at it.

  ‘I assure you, Professor, you’ll find everything is in order.’

  Lourds looked over the top of the document at the man. ‘You’re a policeman?’

  The man spread his hands and smiled. ‘A detective, actually. Detective Dilek Ersoz at your service.’ He inclined his head slightly. ‘And I’m a fan. I enjoyed your Atlantis book and some of your other analytical treatises. And my wife continues to sing praises of Bedroom Pursuits.’

  ‘Can’t ever have too many fans, according to my publishers.’ Lourds handed the document back. ‘I assume you’re not here about an autograph. The last one I signed didn’t turn out so well.’

  ‘An autograph would be most excellent at some point,’ Ersoz replied. ‘Sadly, this is not that point.’

  ‘What do you want, Detective Ersoz?’

  Ersoz held his thumb and forefinger about a quarter-inch apart. ‘Only a short amount of your time, Professor.’

  ‘I suppose I have no choice?’

  ‘Of course you have a choice.’ Ersoz smiled. ‘You

  ‘I suppose a shower is out of the question.’

  ‘I must express my apologies for the hurry. My superior did ask me to bring you in the moment you showed up.’

  Lourds sighed. ‘Of course he did.’

  ‘People died yesterday morning, Professor. There always has to be an accounting for something like this.’ Ersoz stood and fastidiously shot his cuffs. ‘Let’s go.’

  Without another word, Lourds clapped his hat on his head once more and grabbed his backpack. He followed the big man out of the room.

  Olivium Outlet Centre

  Zeytinburnu District

  Istanbul, Turkey

  17 March 2010

  When you have to disappear, the best place to disappear is inside a crowd.

  Cleena’s father had taught her that when she was twelve and she’d started carrying guns for him to sell on the streets. That had been back when Ryan MacKenna had been working hand-to-mouth on the street in Boston’s Combat Zone. He’d sold weapons by the piece in those days, and often Cleena had carried them for him.

  She’d learned how to run and hide during those days, and she’d become one of the best at it. No one had ever caught her, not the police and not other street gangs. She’d had a mental map of all the alleys and rooftops that afforded some measure of concealment and paths to safety. She’d ducked through tight places slick as a rat, and flew from rooftop to rooftop like one of the pigeons.

  As soon as she’d quit Lourds and the robed strangers, she’d headed into the Zeytinburnu District. She’d been to Istanbul before, procuring weapons, and knew

  She’d bought clothing from a second-hand store and was now dressed in American jeans that mostly fit her, a pastel grey pullover that looked new, work boots and a quilted jacket. Wraparound sunglasses hid her eyes and she’d tucked her flaming red hair up under a black watch cap.

  She carried a Czech 9mm pistol in the back of her waistband where she could get to it quickly if she needed to. A quick visit to a gun dealer she knew had netted her a clean pistol, with the understanding that the one she’d used as part of the payment was too hot to sell as it was.

  Now you just make your arrangements and blow this pop stand, Cleena told herself as she strode through the Olivium Outlet Centre. Throngs of people surrounded her as she walked through the shopping mall. Four stories tall, and huge, the mall housed well over one hundred shops these days. Many of them carried named brands from the United States and Great Britain. There were theatres, a supermarket and several fast-food restaurants.

  Cleena found a cyber café and purchased time on a card. She gave a false name and false identification to secure the computer.

  Selecting one of the computers near the window that looked out over the wall, Cleena logged on and brought up the phone server her sister used. Brigid was for ever texting her friends. Cleena had learned how to text, but she didn’t except rarely. She’d preferred since childhood not to leave trails.

  At the server, she checked the text log of the pre-paid cell phone she’d purchased in the airport. She’d ditched that phone when she’d dumped her clothes, and bought another phone in the mall.

  Normally there were only occasional messages from Brigid. This time there were fourteen. All of them said the same thing.

  CALL ME.

  Cleena could almost hear the panic in her sister’s voice. She cancelled the session, dumped the access card in the basket, and left the shop.

  She took the pre-paid cell phone out and dialled the number of the clean phone she’d given Brigid before leaving Boston. Cleena made herself breathe.

  The phone rang once, twice, then three times.

  Answer! Cleena almost cried out loud. Her mind filled with images of horrible things
that could have happened to her sister. Memories of her father’s torn and bloody body still haunted her dreams.

  The phone rang a fourth time.

  People went about their business all round her with maddeningly carefree attitudes. She wanted to move, to pace, to be in motion and not stand there waiting for no news.

  Then Brigid finally answered the phone. ‘Hello?’

  From that single word, Cleena knew how frightened her sister was. Brigid was always happy-go-lucky. And if she wasn’t, she was whiny and sarcastic and near-insufferable. It was what younger sisters were, after all.

  ‘Hello.’ Cleena heard the tight scratchiness of her voice.

  Cleena kept her eyes moving. Now that she’d made contact with her sister, it was possible that someone could already be tracking the connection through a GPS satellite.

  ‘I’m fine. How’s the bird?’ The question was a code Cleena had established to ensure that Brigid was alone.

  ‘Forget about the code,’ Brigid angrily. ‘Something has happened that you need to know. I’ve been waiting for hours to get in contact with you.’

  ‘I haven’t been able to get to the phone. Tell me about the bird.’

  ‘There isn’t time to—’

  ‘To what?’ Cleena snapped. ‘Be careful? If you’re freaked, then this sounds like the perfect time to be careful.’

  Brigid cursed at the other end of the connection. She never did that. Cleena forced herself to remain calm and focused. They had safety procedures built in for a purpose. She and their father had lived by them.

  ‘Jughead,’ Brigid said. ‘There. Are you happy?’

  They’d had a bird, a dove, and they’d named it after a popular comic book character they’d liked. They’d loved the bird, but one day Brigid had brought a stray cat home. When they’d come back to the apartment from school, the cat had knocked Jughead’s cage onto the floor and killed it. Only its head and feet were left. Brigid had cried for days, but she’d never forgotten that Jughead was safer alone. When a stranger was in the house, or near, all of them were at risk.