The Deadly Game (4 page)

‘The seventh and eighth centuries saw scholars from across the globe come to the monastery at Lindisfarne on Holy Island, off the north-east coast of Britain. It was the centre for all learning in the known world,’ he told her. ‘They exchanged ideas on a huge range of topics, especially the sciences. The library at Lindisfarne held most scientific knowledge of that time and an Order dedicated to the development of science sprang up there. This was the Order of Malichea.’

Michelle looked at the embossed symbol on the black leather cover on the kitchen table.

‘These people?’ she said.

Jake nodded.

‘In 793, the Vikings invaded Britain. The monks of Lindisfarne were afraid that the Vikings would come to Holy Island, and if they did they’d destroy the library with all these precious scientific texts. So they reckon that some members of the Order of Malichea decided to take all the scientific texts away to a sympathetic monastery in northern France, where the library would be safe.

‘The library of scientific texts, now held by the Order of Malichea at Caen in France, was added to, with scientists from all faiths, all nations, bringing their researches.’

‘Yeah, and?’ complained Michelle.

‘And so the library of the Order of Malichea in the monastery in Caen became the hub of all knowledge of the global scientific community.

‘But when the Inquisition spread beyond Spain to Italy, and there were real fears that the Inquisition would spread through the rest of Continental Europe ―’

‘This is the one where they burnt all the unbelievers and heretics.’ Michelle nodded. ‘I saw a documentary about it.’

‘That’s the one,’ agreed Jake. ‘The Order of Malichea in Caen were worried: lots of the scientific works in their library were by Arabic or Islamic scholars, and many dated from pre-Christian Roman or Greek times. For that reason alone, most of them would be considered heretical, and would be destroyed, as would any texts that went against the orthodox Church view of the world. Not to mention the monks would be burned as heretics. So they moved the library again.

‘A party of monks was sent to Britain, under the guise of making a pilgrimage to Glastonbury. Each monk took with him a number of books. And at Glastonbury Abbey they hid the library in secret rooms behind the official library.’

‘This is the same Glastonbury of King Arthur and the Holy Grail and all that?’ asked Michelle.

Jake shook his head.

‘It’s the same Glastonbury,’ he said, slightly irritated at her interruption, ‘but it’s nothing to do with King Arthur or the Holy Grail. This is about something real, not fictional.’

‘There are plenty of people who think King Arthur was real,’ pointed out Michelle. ‘He’s even mentioned in old history books of the time.’ She smiled.

‘Yes, well, this
isn’t
about King Arthur,’ stressed Jake.

‘A pity,’ said Michelle. ‘If it was, that might be worth a story.’

‘Can I get on with it?’ asked Jake, an impatient edge to his tone.

Michelle nodded and sipped at her coffee. Jake continued.

‘Even at Glastonbury the books weren’t safe, because over the years the threat of the Inquisition spread, and the Church in Britain also began to seek out and destroy heretical thinking in its ranks. So, in 1497 the monks of the Order were told to take these so-called heretical science books and hide them in secure places, hiding each book in a separate place. To ensure the books would not be discovered, each book was to be hidden in a place that was unlikely to be disturbed because it was either sacred, or said to be cursed, or claimed to be haunted. A coded list of the different books and their hiding places was kept, known as The Index.

‘Once the threat of the Inquisition had passed, and the books had been recovered they would be returned to the abbey library. However, the Inquisition didn’t pass. The books stayed hidden.

‘The Index, the supposed list of where the scientific books were hidden, would be a key piece of evidence these “lost sciences” existed.‘But no one knows what happened to it,’ concluded Jake.

Michelle studied Jake over her coffee cup. She didn’t look impressed.

‘I still don’t get it,’ she said.

‘You don’t get what?’ asked Jake.

‘Why all this fuss over these old books. Yes, so they’ve been hidden. So what? Why should anyone be bothered about them, except historians and these geeks who go hunting for old things?’

‘Because of the information they contain,’ said Jake. ‘Stuff like invisibility; turning ordinary metal into gold; the quest for eternal life; raising the dead . . .’

Michelle laughed.

‘Oh, come on!’ she said. ‘This is just weird stuff! We’re not talking real science here!’

‘Yes we are,’ insisted Jake. ‘I saw it. Three months ago one of these books was dug up in a field in Bedfordshire. It contained details of how to create food from thin air, using fungal spores. And inside the book there were some of these spores, and some builder working at the site picked up the book and breathed in the spores, and turned into some sort of human vegetable. His whole body was covered in a fungus . . .’

Michelle shook her head.

‘Urban legends,’ she said. ‘These sort of stories come up all the time. People turning into things. Werewolves . . .’

‘I was there,’ said Jake again. ‘I saw it happen.’

Michelle looked at him curiously.

‘How?’

‘Because I’m a press officer with the Department of Science. I was sent to cover the story about a protest going on at this site where they were going to build a new university science block. I saw the book dug up. I saw the man pick it up. I saw him turn into this . . . thing.’

‘Why wasn’t there anything on the news about it?’ challenged Michelle.

‘Because my department slapped a D notice on the story, stopping it,’ said Jake. ‘But I know it happened. And I’ve seen the book. I held it in my hands.’

Michelle looked at the old leather book cover on the table.

‘That’s it?’ she asked, suddenly worried.

‘No,’ said Jake. ‘That book was taken back into protective custody by the government. It’s been hidden away, and all knowledge of it has been denied.’ He gestured at the piece of ancient black leather. ‘This is from another one, and it’s just the cover. Someone sent it to me.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. Either to rope me in, or as a warning to stay out of it. I don’t know.’

Michelle fell silent, obviously thinking over everything Jake had said.

‘Tell me again why these books are important
now
?’ she asked.

‘Because if anyone finds one with key information like that, they’ve got enormous power in their hands. And money. Say they find one with a cure for cancer. If they patent that information, they’re rich for ever. Or say they’d got their hands on the one I saw dug up, the one where this dried fungus comes back to life and spreads as soon as it comes into contact with air.’

‘Biological weapons,’ muttered Michelle.

‘Or a way of ending world hunger,’ said Jake. ‘Either way, it’s power. And that is why so many people are after these books.’

‘To make money.’

‘Or, in the case of our government, and others, to stop the information coming out.’ Jake sighed. ‘They don’t want our enemies having access to potential weapons like these.’

Michelle thought it over some more. Finally, she said: ‘OK, I can see all that. But where’s the story?’

Jake looked at her, astonished.

‘That
is
the story,’ he said. ‘The hidden books. Powerful people after them. Others trying to stop them being found.’ He appealed to her: ‘This friend of mine said that if this library hadn’t been hidden and the sciences had been tested, we’d have been on the moon five hundred years before we actually were. Plus treatments would have been found by now for most diseases. But the popes and kings of the time didn’t want them known. The stuff in these books contradicted the official view of the world: that the Sun went round the Earth, and all that kind of stuff. They were seen as dangerous, so they were labelled heretical, or witchcraft or sorcery.’

Jake could see that Michelle was still weighing up what he’d told her. Finally she shook her head.

‘It’s still just a story,’ she said. ‘The sort you get in the weirdo tabloids: Elvis found on the moon. That sort of thing. Without hard evidence, there’s no story.’

‘I’m the hard evidence,’ insisted Jake. ‘What happened to me. First, I saw the book that was dug up, and what happened just now when you found me, tied up.’

Michelle shook her head again.

‘That last could just be a prank. Everything else can be dismissed as hearsay. No, we need something concrete.’

Jake picked up the old cover.

‘We’ve got this.’

‘It’s just a piece of old leather with some markings on it,’ said Michelle. ‘It’s not evidence. No, we need one of these books. Something that can be tested and carbon-dated, and all those other things that scientists do these days.’

Jake hesitated, then he nodded.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll find one for you.’

It would be tough and he knew it. But if it meant he could bring Lauren back to England, he’d do it.

‘I need to be there when you find it,’ said Michelle. ‘I want to see it uncovered. I don’t want to be shown up as a sucker who fell for some scam with a fake.’

‘Agreed,’ said Jake.

‘OK,’ said Michelle. ‘So where do we find one?’

‘Well, that’s not as easy as it sounds,’ admitted Jake. ‘Like I said, the books were hidden at a variety of places, all of them said to be sacred . . .’

‘Cursed or haunted,’ nodded Michelle. ‘Yes, I got that. But you must have some idea where is most likely. Like Glastonbury, for example.’

Jake looked at her, curious.

‘Glastonbury?’ he said.

‘Why not?’ She shrugged. ‘You said that was the last place they were kept. It’s where they were taken from and hidden. No planes and trains and cars in those days. Sure, they could be spread all over the place, like the one that was dug up in . . . where?’

‘Bedfordshire,’ Jake reminded her.

‘But I bet you a lot of them were hidden near Glastonbury.’

‘You’re still thinking about King Arthur, aren’t you?’ said Jake. ‘Trying to fit him into your story.’

‘Maybe,’ admitted Michelle. ‘But, you’ve got to admit, what I said about hiding them nearby makes sense.’

‘Yes,’ mused Jake thoughtfully. Then another thought struck him. ‘And this Arthur business could work for us!’

‘How?’ asked Michelle.

‘They’re keeping an eye on me, and what I do.’

‘Who?’

Jake sighed.

‘Everybody. Certainly my own department, and MI5.’

Michelle looked at him suspiciously.

‘MI5?’ she queried. ‘Where do they come in?’

‘Like I said, in the wrong hands this information could be used to make the most dangerous weapons for terrorists. And they know I’ve been looking for the books. So if we put up a smokescreen, spread the word that at Glastonbury I’m just looking for stuff about King Arthur, nothing to do with the hidden books . . .’

‘Do you think they’ll believe that?’ asked Michelle doubtfully.

‘It’s up to us to make them believe it,’ said Jake. ‘We make a few phone calls to each other about what we’re going to be looking for at Glastonbury: Arthur and the Grail and stuff. They’re bound to be listening in, they always do. If our cover’s convincing enough, they’ll come to that conclusion.’

‘You hope,’ said Michelle, still doubtful.

‘It’ll work,’ said Jake confidently.

‘OK.’ Michelle nodded. ‘When?’

‘The sooner the better,’ said Jake. ‘Are you free this weekend?

‘If this turns into a story, you bet. But you better not be wasting my time.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll dig out the list of possible sites where the books might have been buried, and sort out the most likely.’

‘And I’ll talk to my editor, see if he’ll go for it.’

‘You’d better not tell him about the hidden books at this stage,’ cautioned Jake. ‘If word gets out what we’re up to, we might run into problems.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll push the King Arthur angle.’ She smiled. ‘I’m pretty sure he’ll think it’s a better story, anyway. More sellable. Do you have your own transport?’

‘No,’ said Jake. ‘Public transport does for me.’

‘OK, I’ll pick you up on Saturday. Nine o’clock?’

‘Great,’ agreed Jake.

She headed for the door, a look of happy determination on her face. ‘Glastonbury, here we come.’

Chapter 6

Once Michelle had gone, Jake started to see the flaws in the plan. It had all seemed so simple when he’d been talking to Michelle: go to Glastonbury, find a book, and put it in the public domain. But first: find a book. If it was that simple, then at least some of the books would have already been discovered by now; but there was nothing about them in Lauren’s researches, or on the various internet sites about the Order of Malichea.