Charles Brokaw - The Lucifer Code

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 in this part of the world were. In the beginning, the builders had needed places to store water and dump refuse. Smuggling had also figured in the construction of tunnels in port cities. While growing up in Boston, she had explored several of those tunnels with other kids her age who had been into ‘urban archaeology’. They’d called themselves creepers and swore they were uncovering the lost past of the city. Actually, they had just been kids going places they weren’t supposed to go.

At first, Cleena’s father had been angry with her when he’d found out where 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 knew what they were talking about. Several of them kept glancing in her direction, and she was all too aware that she was the only woman among them.

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.’

‘Things did not go as I had planned either.’ Cleena put an edge on her words. ‘You should be grateful that I don’t ask you for a bonus on this job.’

‘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 to lead a legal and successful life. When she’d taken the call about the linguistics professor from Harvard, Cleena had thought the job was a gift. The money was well into six figures. She hadn’t had many of those lucrative deals lately.

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.

Futilely, Lourds pulled at his bonds and tried to loosen them. The legs of the wooden chair scratched against the stone floor.

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.