The Lucifer Code (2010)

by Charles Brokaw

  ‘Someone could get stuck.’

  ‘That’s why you’re going to go last.’

  ‘Me?’ Lourds looked round.

  ‘You’re the biggest person here,’ Cleena said. ‘If anyone’s going to get stuck, it’s going to be you.’

  Lourds quickly realized what she said was true. He was the tallest and the broadest across. He looked to the others for support or at least sympathy. None was forthcoming.

  ‘Absolutely delightful,’ he muttered.

  Cleena followed Olympia into the tunnel. At Joachim’s instruction, the other monks quickly dropped into place and began the journey.

  ‘How long is the tunnel?’ Lourds asked.

  ‘About five hundred yards,’ Joachim answered.

  ‘I don’t suppose anyone has used it in the last eight centuries?’

  And knowing the way is clear is too much to ask, Lourds thought sourly. ‘You realize, of course, that earthquakes could have collapsed the tunnel anywhere along the way.’

  ‘I certainly hope that isn’t the case.’ Joachim looked towards the staircase as more rock tumbled into the room. ‘Professor, my sister has always maintained you’re an intelligent man. If you think your chances here are greater, you may stay.’ He dropped to his stomach and crawled into the tunnel.

  ‘They could seal the tunnel after us,’ Lourds pointed out. ‘If it’s blocked ahead, we’ll be entombed.’

  Evidently Joachim was saving his breath for crawling.

  Cursing, realizing he was more afraid of losing touch with the puzzle than he was of getting trapped underground, Lourds dropped into the grave, fell to his stomach, and entered the tunnel.

  Stone Goose Apartments

  Zeytinburnu District

  Istanbul, Turkey

  19 March 2010

  Sevki sat on the edge of his chair and captured images of the men waiting round the Hagia Sophia. When he had them all, he turned to another monitor and cropped the images into headshots of the individuals,

  Employers often hired him to cover payoffs and exchanges so they wouldn’t be surprised who was there. Or to get a record of who was there so they could exact revenge if necessary.

  Once he had the images in the shape he wanted, he ran them through international identification systems he had hacked into. He knew he was probably going to burn one of the back doors he’d built into the system because he was dumping eight faces in at once. Someone was going to catch him this time. He only hoped he could get in and out with the information he needed before that happened.

  While the programs ran, and he surveyed the connections to know when a protective firewall discovered his false identification, he stared at the church grounds. His thoughts ran rampant.

  A scroll. Buried and lost for hundreds of years. How much is something like that worth? The question buzzed inside his mind, but he already knew the answer: enough to get killed over.

  The communication he had with Cleena over the earwig was intermittent; it was interrupted by the

  The first face froze on the monitor as identification was made. In neat lines of script beneath the face, Sevki learned that the man was Corliss Baker, a Marine sergeant killed in action in Iraq six years ago. Baker had been recognized for several acts of bravery. Then the second man was identified. His name was Zachary Stillson. He’d also died in Iraq six years ago. Strangely enough, he had been killed in the same engagement that had taken the life of Corliss Baker. A third man, Henry Marstars, also a Marine, had died in that same battle.

  A warning icon flashed onto the screen to let Sevki know he had alerted the gatekeepers at the other end of the hacked connection. He dumped a potpourri of foolies and false trails into the mix in case they had managed to tag him – which he considered doubtful – and fled the site.

  When he settled back into his chair, he wasn’t surprised to learn he was drenched in sweat. Digging around in American military or corporate databases always left him like that. Those entities had a habit of hiring people as gifted as he was. No matter how curious or financially rewarding a cyber score could be, Sevki didn’t want to lose his home. He had worked hard to buy the building and he was happy there. But he was

  He continued monitoring the situation on the ground at the church, but he opened up a new window on another screen and began tracking down what he could about this military engagement in Iraq. He did love a conspiracy.

  Crypt of the Elders

  Hagia Sophia Underground

  Istanbul, Turkey

  19 March 2010

  Sharp stones bit into Lourds’ knees and elbows as he crawled through the narrow tunnel. He held his hat in one hand because he couldn’t crawl while wearing it. He banged his head several times on the low roof. That chill clinging to the earth leached into his bones and tightened his muscles. He couldn’t see past the people in front of him and that worried him considerably. The tunnel wasn’t straight. Occasionally it dipped or rose, probably to avoid harder strata above or below. Scars of tools used by the men who had dug the tunnel lined the passageway.

  He was certain he was bleeding from a score of small wounds but couldn’t be sure in the darkness. His strained breathing rasped in his ears and he wondered if the oxygen level was enough to sustain them all. Perhaps the efforts of so many people all at one time

  That’s the problem with being over-educated, he chided himself. You can always find something with which to scare yourself.

  He kept crawling, forcing away the pain in his elbows and knees that felt like tiny teeth tearing into his flesh. He thought he heard the sounds of pursuit. The idea of the gunmen slithering through the tunnel behind him in the darkness filled him with fear that was even colder than the earth round him.

  ‘I think I can get through, sir.’

  Eckart looked at the soldier nearest the rock fall. Through the hole they’d created, he saw only darkness. Either the people they were after had extinguished the lights or they’d abandoned their positions.

  ‘Do it,’ Eckart ordered. ‘Kill anything that moves.’

  The man nodded and drew his pistol. ‘Including the professor?’

  ‘It’s dark down there. You don’t have time to decide who’s who.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ With a pistol in one hand and a halogen flashlight in the other, the soldier dived headfirst through the opening in the fallen rock. He slid, feet spread wide to help control his descent, but he went in a rush and an avalanche of small stones rattled after him.

  Tense and annoyed, Eckart waited and peered into the darkness.

  ‘Roger that,’ Eckart replied. ‘Topside and support, clear out. We’ll stay with this in an attempt to flush the professor.’ Webster wouldn’t be happy unless they came away with either the scroll or Lourds.

  At the bottom of the rock slide, the point man got to his feet and shone his light around. The illumination shifted and changed, but no shots were fired. That was a bad sign.

  ‘Clear,’ the point man called up. ‘They’re not here.’

  Eckart cursed and slid down feet first. At the bottom, he stood and moved to the other side of the room from the point man in case a trap had been laid. Desperate men did desperate things, and they still weren’t sure who the men were who accompanied Lourds.

  The room looked like living quarters of some kind, but there was no electricity and no sign of running water. Eckart flicked his flashlight beam across the ceiling out of habit. Most people didn’t look up. Soldiers were trained to for urban assault. All he saw was the stone ceiling.

  The rest of his unit slid into the room. They spread out without being told.

  ‘Door at the back.’ Eckart trained his flashlight on the dark rectangle in the wall.

  ‘On it.’ One of the soldiers stepped forward with his pistol at the ready. After a second, he swung inside the room. ‘All clear.’

  ‘Negative, sir. None that I see.’

  ‘Check for those you don’t see. Those people didn’t just vanish.’

  ‘Affirmative,
sir.’

  The point man halted beside a large rectangle in the floor. His flashlight illuminated a wooden coffin.

  ‘Sir,’ the point man called.

  Eckart joined him, gazing briefly at the coffin, then into the open grave in the floor. ‘A rat hole?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The point man nodded. ‘That’s what it looks like.’

  ‘Find out.’

  Eckart played his flashlight beam around the room but didn’t see any other way for the professor and his companions to get out. The soldiers were already checking for hidden doors.

  The point man squatted at the bottom of the grave. ‘Sir, there is a tunnel here. It’s not very big, looks like crawl space only, but it’s big enough.’

  ‘All right. Let’s see where it takes us. Drop your pack. It’ll only slow you down. Take your flashlight, pistol and extra magazines. We’ll bring your gear.’ Eckart looked round the room and chose another small man. ‘Carter, you strip down and go with him.’

  Carter dropped his pack immediately and kept only his pistol and flashlight. He crawled into the hole behind the point man and they disappeared in the space of a drawn breath.

  Eckart slid free of his pack and tied it to his left

  Lourds and his people couldn’t be far ahead. They didn’t have that big a lead. Eckart scrambled as he’d been taught back in basic, elbows and knees, eating up the distance.

  Joachim stopped crawling unexpectedly. Sharp pain exploded through Lourds’ cheek as his face skidded over the monk’s hiking shoe.

  ‘What’s wrong? Why have you stopped?’

  ‘I don’t know. Everyone else has stopped.’

  Lourds twisted painfully in the tunnel and looked back the way they’d come. Bright yellow light flashed through the darkness.

  ‘We’re about to have company,’ Lourds said.

  ‘I see them.’ Joachim raised his voice. ‘Olympia.’

  ‘The way is sealed,’ she responded.

  Lourds’ spirits sank. He had known from the beginning it might end up like this, but dealing with it in the darkness was much different. He didn’t think he could take another five hundred yards of crawling on his elbows and knees. He was certain he’d rather be shot.

  ‘How is it sealed?’ Lourds asked.

  Behind them, the flashlight beams closed the distance.

  ‘It looks like a solid wall.’

  ‘It’s not debris? Something caused by a cave-in?’

  ‘No.’

  Olympia sounded irritated. ‘I don’t see a tool mark.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean. It’s not a hidden door?’

  ‘I already checked for that, Thomas. I’m not totally witless.’

  ‘This doesn’t make sense. They wouldn’t build a tunnel that went nowhere.’ Lourds thought desperately, trying to imagine what the Brotherhood might have done to fool potential enemies. ‘The entrance was located in a grave. The tunnel was meant as an escape. Joachim, you don’t know anything about this, do you?’

  ‘No. The knowledge about the escape tunnel was passed down, but nothing more,’ Joachim answered.

  ‘How do you get rescued from the grave?’ Lourds asked himself.

  ‘If you’re dead, you have to wait till the Second Coming,’ Joachim said. ‘When Jesus Christ returns, the dead will be lifted from their graves and—’

  ‘I’m familiar with the theology,’ Lourds interrupted. Then a thought struck him. ‘Olympia, look up. What do you see?’

  There was a pause, during which Lourds noted that the flashlights were coming closer, then Olympia called back, ‘Nothing. Just a stone surface.’

  ‘Smooth or unfinished?’

  ‘Smooth.’

  ‘Any markings?’

  ‘I don’t see – wait. There’s a fish symbol here.’

  ‘Push against the ceiling,’ Lourds said. ‘That should be a door.’ Now if only it works.

  ‘It’s a door!’ Olympia called back.

  ‘Go!’ Lourds said. ‘Hurry!’

  One by one, they went, and the flashlight beams still crept up on them. Lourds was certain he wasn’t going to make it. He sat on his haunches and passed his backpack and hat up to Joachim. His heart gladdened at the realization that the next section of the escape route was larger than the first. Once the way was clear, he stood up through the narrow passage, gripped the edges, and hauled himself up with the aid of Joachim and another monk. They closed the door.

  Light seeped round the edges from below. The men pursuing them gathered there. Lourds was certain they wouldn’t be stymied for long.

  He glanced up at Joachim and whispered, ‘Do you know where we are?’

  Joachim shook his head.

  ‘We need something to jam this door shut,’ Lourds said.

  ‘Will this do?’ Joachim pulled the crowbar that had caused all the commotion from under his jacket.

  ‘Just the thing,’ Lourds said. He took the crowbar and inserted one end into the mortise of the stone door and kicked it hard, wedging the heavy door shut.

  ‘That should slow them down,’ he said.

  The hidden door had opened out against a wall at

  Only a little farther on, the new passageway dead-ended as well. Olympia immediately searched the wall while everyone else searched the ceiling.

  ‘Here,’ Olympia said. She shone her flashlight on a fish symbol near the top of the dead end. ‘This has to be a door.’

  Hammering and banging came from the other end of the passageway.

  ‘Permit me,’ Lourds suggested.

  They made way for him and he went up to the door. He looked all over it but didn’t see any crevices or anything that gave any indication that the wall was indeed a door.

  ‘I’ve found something,’ Cleena said. She shone her light on a small square at eye level on the right-hand wall. ‘It looks like a picture; it was covered with dust.’ She brushed at the thick layers of grime to reveal the image.

  ‘It’s not a picture,’ Joachim said. ‘It’s a mosaic.’

  Upon closer inspection, Lourds realized it was a mosaic. Created of tiny coloured stones, the image showed thirteen people seated at a table.

  ‘The Mystical Supper,’ Joachim said in awe.

  ‘I take it you haven’t been in this particular passageway before,’ Lourds said.

  ‘Never.’

  ‘It would have been really helpful if you had.’ Lourds pressed the mosaic but nothing happened. He trained his beam on the walls. ‘Check the walls. There

  ‘In 1 Corinthians 11:23–26,’ Joachim agreed.

  ‘Yes.’ Lourds knelt below the mosaic. ‘That supper provided a lot of material for legends and mythology. The jug used to serve the wine has been purported by some to be the Holy Grail, sought after by King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. It’s also supposed to be the beginning of the Eucharist, the sharing of Jesus’ blood and body.’

  ‘Yes, but what does that have to do with opening this door?’ Olympia asked.

  Lourds smiled confidently. ‘In Orthodox churches, where do you expect to find a picture of the Mystical Supper?’

  Joachim knelt beside him and began feeling the wall as well. ‘Above the Holy Doors.’

  ‘Yes. They’re also called the Royal Doors and the Beautiful Gates.’

  Lourds trailed his fingers along the stone. A moment later, he felt a raised pattern. He shone his light on it and wiped at the accumulated dust. His efforts quickly revealed three more small mosaics. One was of a man with a nimbus around his head.

  ‘The sainted deacon,’ Lourds said. ‘Usually it’s Saint Stephen or Saint Lawrence or one of the others.’

  The second mosaic presented an engraved door that looked as though it had been rendered in gold.

  ‘The Russian Orthodox call them the Red Gates,’ Lourds said. ‘But the meaning is relatively the same.’

  A winged angel filled the third mosaic.

  ‘Archangel Michael?’ Joachim asked.

  ‘Or Gabriel,’
Lourds said. Then he shrugged. ‘Unless it’s another archangel.’

  ‘What does it mean?’ Cleena asked.

  ‘The Beautiful Gates,’ one of the monks said, ‘is a symbol of penitence that worshippers shouldn’t forget. It reminds them that sin separates man from God.’

  ‘The last thing we need right now is a lesson,’ Cleena said. ‘Unless we can find a quick way out of here, you’re about to be ungraciously ushered into the presence of the Almighty.’

  ‘Please don’t make light of God’s works,’ the monk said.

  ‘I think we’ve been presented with a way out,’ Lourds said. ‘The Mystical Supper is above the door. I’d wager my life on that.’

  ‘You’re going to,’ Olympia said.

  ‘Apparently we’re given three choices,’ Lourds went on, unperturbed. ‘As much as I’m willing to bet one of these mosaics opens the doors, I’m also willing to bet the other two may lock it for ever.’

  ‘Why?’ Joachim asked.

  ‘In order to protect whatever lies beyond.’

  ‘What do you think that is?’

  Joachim grabbed his hand and stopped it. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Opening the door.’

  ‘You’ve got one chance in three.’

  ‘Not if you have faith and a little knowledge of the Church,’ Lourds said with a smile. ‘Which door would you pick?’

  The hammering back at the jammed entrance took on a different timbre. Instead of trying to work out the puzzle logically, the men had decided to use brute force. The stone door wouldn’t stand up to much of that.

  Joachim hesitated only a moment. ‘Two chances in three. The sainted deacon’s door or the angel door.’

  ‘Why?’ Lourds asked.

  ‘Because those are the doors used by the clergy.’ Joachim released Lourds’ hand.

  Lourds pressed the mosaic picturing the sainted deacon. The mosaic sank into the stone a few inches, gliding effortlessly. Sharp clicks sounded within the stone wall as primitive tumblers fell into place.

  A section of the wall slid back to reveal another passageway. Lourds took the lead and entered. Once everyone was inside the passageway, he tripped a lever and the wall section slid smoothly back into place.