Charles Brokaw - The Lucifer Code

Stone grated in the darkness and Lourds held his breath as he watched the approaching flashlight beams. They couldn’t be too far off now, but in the darkness it was hard to judge distance.

‘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 the end of the passageway. There was only one way to go.

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 has to be something else here.’ Then he stopped and went back to the mosaic. ‘The Mystical Supper is what it was called by Eastern Orthodox Christians. Paul was the first apostle to describe it.’

‘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 Beautiful Gates,’ Joachim said. ‘That is the door Christ enters through.’

‘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?’

‘Another clue to the location of the Joy Scroll.’ Lourds reached for the three mosaics.

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.

Long moments later, Lourds found yet another door. This one held no puzzle and, when opened, revealed only a small cave. To the left, Lourds spotted an opening that showed the star-studded sky.

Less than a minute later, he was crouched at the mouth of a vine-covered cave looking down over the Hagia Sophia. Several police cars surrounded the church.

‘It’s nice to see that not all of that went unnoticed,’ Lourds said. ‘But I hate to think of all those books, all that knowledge, that may be lost now.’

‘The police may not know how to find the tunnel,’ Joachim said. ‘They may only be responding to the threat above ground.’

‘I hope so.’ Lourds removed his hat and squatted down to rest for a moment. The air in the cave was warmer than the dankness that had permeated the tunnels. He gazed round the cave. Numerous beer cans and second-hand camping paraphernalia revealed that the local teens favoured the cave as well.