Alex Scarrow - The Doomsday Code

‘Now, I’ve been hearing rumours, since landing on these Godforsaken shores, that something very precious to me has been lost by you. You know what I’m talking of, don’t you?’

John nodded. Although whether it stood out as a nod instead of another involuntary tic, he wasn’t sure.

‘I know you are a fool, dear brother, but not that much of a fool to lose it. So … I can only presume this is a fiction.’ Richard smiled for the first time. A cold smile that meant absolutely nothing. ‘It seems you have grown a backbone after all. This is your attempt to bargain with me, eh?’

John could see that smile wavering. He could see it turn into a snarl in a heartbeat, a snarl, a sudden whiplash of movement and a blade sunk deep into his throat. Richard could do that and not think twice of the consequences.

Be very careful.

‘I … I have it, brother.’

‘Excellent! Of course you do. And now, I thank you for keeping it safe these last two years. You will hand it over to me and perhaps — perhaps — I will overlook your reluctance to pay my ransom. I will overlook your many attempts to undermine my authority while I have been away fighting for Christendom.’

John felt his legs trembling beneath his robes, felt his bladder loosen, his stomach flip and churn.

Be strong.

‘It is safe, Richard. I–I shall …’

‘You shall what?’

John swallowed drily. ‘I shall h-hold on to it for n-now.’

The smile froze on Richard’s face. He reached for the flagon and topped his cup up again. ‘Your pitiful attempt at defiance is almost amusing. But I have no time for that now.’

‘I am s-serious, brother,’ John uttered, the words stumbling out of his mouth like a drunkard from an inn at closing time.

Richard’s eyes narrowed. ‘ I … I … I am s … s … serious, b … b … brother ,’ he mimicked cruelly in a shrill, high pitch. ‘I will not be bargained with by you, you pitiful woman!’ He shook his head at the very thought of that. ‘You are a child, a baby. You always have been. You play at being king while I have been away. And now you dare — you dare to play with this ?’

‘It is just a scroll of words,’ said John. ‘It means nothing.’ But almost the moment he said it, he regretted it. He expected his brother to leap off his chair, to slap his face with the hard back of his hand. But instead Richard’s response was measured, calm.

‘It is God’s instructions … instructions meant for me and me alone.’

John looked at his eyes. They glistened with a frightening sense of glee, purpose.

‘You stand in the way of the Lord’s intentions, brother. A very dangerous place to be.’

John took a deep breath, steadying the churning in his stomach, hopefully steadying the unfortunate tremor in his voice. ‘Disband your nobles and their men, leave Nottingham … and I shall g-give you the Grail.’

‘No.’ Richard looked down at the ground. ‘These are the choices I present to you . Surrender the Grail immediately, and I shall consider some leniency. I am, after all, known for my mercy. If I have to take Nottingham to obtain it, I will have your head.’

‘Attack the city and — and I shall burn it before you get to m-me.’

Dark hooded eyes settled on him for a long while. ‘Then, dear brother, you will know the agony of a witch’s fire before I have you opened up and quartered. You will see your own heart in my hand before your head comes off.’

God help me.

John stood up. ‘I am leaving. We are done!’

Richard remained seated. ‘Then you will die very badly, brother.’

John pushed his way past the velvet drapes, cursing as his robes tangled with it and he stumbled awkwardly out into the open, Richard’s raised voice following him.

‘If you burn it, you fool … you will die badly!’

2001, New York

‘But those letters, they don’t spell anything!’ said Maddy. ‘They’re just a bunch of weird Celtic squiggles.’

Adam was looking around her messy desk for something. ‘It’s not the letters we want — just where they are on the page . Have you got any cardboard?’

Normally there were half a dozen pizza boxes lying around, but she’d binned a whole bunch of them the other day. ‘Uh? What do you want cardboard for?’

Sal looked around at the filing cabinet to the right of the computer table. Liam had left a breakfast bowl up there and, being the scruffy shadd-yah he was, the box of Rice Krispies. She reached for it.

‘This any good?’

Adam grabbed it. ‘Yeah. Scissors?’

Both girls shook their heads.

‘This isn’t a freakin’ craft store,’ said Maddy.

‘I need to cut out windows,’ said Adam. ‘Have you got anything ? A penknife?’

Cabot reached into the folds of his monk’s habit and pulled out a small knife. ‘Would this do?’

‘Perfect.’

Adam grabbed the knife from him. He pulled the bag of Krispies out and then began to hack at the cereal box. Maddy frowned. ‘You gonna make something you saw on Sesame Street ?’

Adam ignored the jibe and pointed at the computer screen. ‘Make a note of those stand-out letters.’ He took his cardboard box and Cabot’s knife across to the kitchen table where the Treyarch was still stretched out under the glare of the overhead light.

He finished cutting one side of the cereal box out and laid it gawdy, print-side down on the parchment, carefully lining up the ragged corners of the cardboard with the corners of the margin illuminations.

‘Too big,’ he muttered. He began trimming one side. Cursing as Cabot’s serrated blade chewed at the flimsy cardboard, leaving a rough, uneven, shredded edge.

Sal, Cabot and Becks joined him.

‘This’ll be no good for cutting out the windows,’ he said. ‘I need a modelling knife or something. The cardboard’s just shredding up.’

Sal looked down at the parchment. ‘Why not just cut the letters out of this Treyarch thing?’

Adam looked at the ragged wobbling scrap of cardboard in his hand, then down at the unravelled scroll. ‘Yeah, why not.’

Cabot’s eyes grew round. ‘But — but … ’tis a valuable account from the First Crusade!’

‘No,’ said Adam, ‘it’s a cardan grille in disguise. That’s all it is. That’s why it was written. It’s the real key to that,’ he said, gesturing at the wooden box perched on the end of the table.

Maddy rushed over with a sheet of paper in her hand. ‘I printed it out.’ She laid it down on the table, the highlighted characters still just about discernible from the rest of the text. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘this first line … it’s this character that’s highlighted,’ she said, pointing to the upside-down Gaelic symbol Cabot had noted minutes earlier.

Adam took the knife, and carefully dug its sharp tip into the parchment and the wooden table beneath.

‘What if we’re wrong?’ said Maddy. ‘What if it’s something else? You’re about to cut holes in this thing, and, like, there’s only this one copy!’

Adam hesitated a moment. ‘Ahh … true.’ He blew air through his teeth.

She looked down at the printout. ‘But looking at that …’

He nodded. ‘Exactly. Those letters are different ink. There’s only one reason you’d write certain letters out of order like that.’

‘Yeah …’ she shrugged. ‘Ahh heck — go for it, then.’

As Adam began cautiously cutting the first character out of the stiff parchment, Cabot absentmindedly crossed himself with the tips of his fingers and muttered an apology in Latin to God above.