Charles Brokaw - The Lucifer Code

Cleena realized her situation wasn’t much better than the professor’s. They had contacted her through one of the drops she used, and offered money. In their world, she was just a disposable as the professor. She didn’t understand why they hadn’t already tried to kill her. But, unlike the professor, she had a pistol, and she knew how to use it.

Keep your calm, girlie, she heard her father say. No one gets out alive who can’t keep a cool head. The best weapon you’ll ever carry is between your ears.

‘If just anyone could have read this page,’ Lourds said in a calm, controlled voice, ‘you would’ve already had it deciphered. Am I correct?’

The silence stretched in the darkness. Three of Qayin’s followers stepped forward menacingly. Two of them grabbed the professor’s arms. The third grabbed him by the neck.

‘Careful,’ Lourds said. ‘Don’t hurt the book.’ Even though the men lifted him from his feet, he tried to protect the book.

One of the men slid a knife free and held the keen edge to Lourds’ throat. He looked at Qayin and waited expectantly.

Lourds didn’t even try to fight back.

Surreptitiously, Cleena slid her hand around the pistol butt. In the darkness, with the men gathered so close together, she liked her chances. At least for a moment, she wouldn’t be able to miss her targets. After that, though, things would quickly become dicey.

Qayin held up a hand to his followers and peered at Lourds. ‘Do you think you can translate this document?’

Lourds didn’t hesitate and spoke with more confidence under the circumstances than Cleena would have thought possible. ‘I can. If you give me time, I can translate anything.’

Cleena said, ‘How much time?’

‘I don’t know. Linguists and archaeologists worked on the Rosetta Stone for years before they made a breakthrough.’

Lifting his pistol, Qayin consulted a Rolex on his wrist. ‘You have twenty minutes to make a believer of me, Professor.’

Cleena expected Lourds to protest over the time frame. There was no way Qayin could seriously expect him to crack whatever was on the page. All Lourds had succeeded in doing was delaying his death for a few minutes.

But he also bought you some more time to think, girlie, so you’d best put your thinking cap on and get to it. You’ve got to come up with a great plan.

She had twenty minutes.

And the clock was ticking.

Catacombs

Yesilkoy District

Istanbul, Turkey

16 March 2010

Lourds reached for one of the lanterns the men carried. Before the man could react, the professor had it in his hand. He didn’t know the man was reaching for a gun until the barrel was pressed up against his cheek.

‘What are you doing?’ Lourds asked in disbelief. ‘I need the light if I’m going to be working.’

The leader waved the man off, but he clearly wasn’t happy about removing the gun. He growled what Lourds believed were curses and walked away.

‘My apologies, Professor,’ the leader said. ‘Perhaps it would be best if you made no sudden moves. We lead very dangerous lives. There are people who would kill us on sight.’

As I recall, your people don’t have any problem responding in kind, Lourds thought but didn’t say it.

‘Now we have reached something of an understanding, allow me to introduce myself.’ The man bowed his head slightly but never dropped his gaze from Lourds’. ‘I’m called Qayin. Other than light, is there anything else you need?’

Lourds’ mind spun as he looked at the page again. ‘A desk, perhaps?’

‘No, sorry.’

Now that he had emptied his bladder, Lourds discovered he was starving.

‘I suppose asking for a pizza would be out of the question.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Then do you have my backpack?’

Qayin nodded to another of his followers and the man sprinted away. He returned momentarily with Lourds’ backpack, but when the professor reached for it, the man held it too far away.

‘I don’t have any weapons in there,’ Lourds said. ‘I do have a couple of nutrition bars.’

When the man finished searching the backpack, he handed it over.

Lourds hunkered down. All the men in Qayin’s gang pointed their lanterns and pistols at him. He could hear safeties click back and pistols cocking. Moving slowly, Lourds reached into the backpack and took out a journal, a pen, two trail bars and a bottle of water. He displayed his treasures for the rest of the group to see.

‘I need something to work with,’ Lourds said, ‘and I’m hungry.’

The pistols and lanterns slowly drew back.

Lourds stood, hoisted the backpack over one shoulder, and juggled his food, writing utensils, and the book Qayin had given him. He crossed the room and sat with his back against the wall.

‘This wasn’t written on the page.’ Lourds traced his fingers over the symbols on the surface. They felt slightly matted, and the texture told him that a fixative had been applied to the page. ‘This is a rubbing.’

‘A child could have told me that.’

Lourds ignored the sarcasm. ‘Where did you get this? Where was the rubbing taken?’

‘That doesn’t matter.’

‘I beg to differ. Knowing where this rubbing came from and when the original carvings were done might help me isolate this language. Establish the root.’

Qayin hesitated, obviously ill at ease when it came to revealing anything about the book.

‘It came from here.’

Lourds took a bite of his trail bar and chewed quickly. ‘By here, you mean Istanbul?’

Qayin nodded.

‘Or do you mean Constantinople?’

A look of irritation flashed across Qayin’s hard features. ‘This city. That’s all you need to know.’

‘No, that isn’t all I need to know. Istanbul began as Constantinople, a city with a European history – that’s if you discount the Neolithic settlements and choose to begin with the Greek settlers from Megara. Then the Romans took over. After that, the Ottoman Empire arrived under Mehmed II. This city has constantly been torn between the east and the west, between Christian and Muslim, and marks have been left throughout the city on various pieces of architecture.’ Lourds tapped the paper. ‘This is a rubbing, and I’m willing to wager that it came from some building within the city. If someone went to the trouble to create a new language, then I need to know if the mind that created that language was European or Eastern or African in origin.’

‘You think this is an artificial language?’ the young woman asked.

Qayin didn’t look happy about her asking questions.

‘I don’t recognize this language,’ Lourds said. ‘I know all the languages of this region. But throughout history a number of people have created artificial languages to keep their secrets.’

‘Did you think the language that led you to the discovery of Atlantis was artificial?’ the woman asked.

‘For a time I had to consider that possibility, yes. As it turned out it wasn’t artificial.’

‘Then you could be wrong about this one as well.’

‘You should listen to me here. You’re out of your area of expertise.’ Lourds sighed. ‘We’re not kidnapping anyone here now. This field is where I’m expert.’

‘The way I hear you, if you don’t understand something, you can always cop out and just say, “This language isn’t real.” ’

‘Even an artificial language is real. Star Trek fans insisted that the Klingon language be made real. Tolkien invented languages for his characters, human and non-human. People are always creating languages. It’s one of the things we do that sets us apart from every other creature on this planet. We communicate via language. Look at cellphones. Only a few short years ago they didn’t exist.’