The Voynich Cypher (32 page)

“She’s naturally upset over how things have developed, but holding up,” Steven said. “How’s everything with the business?”

“Oh, you know, it chugs along, with or without you. Not that you’re easily replaceable, but there’s nothing we haven’t been able to deal with in your absence, so far. Although it does get a bit distracting to have the local five-o stopping in every few days, demanding to know where you are.”

“I’m sorry for that. Okay, then. I’m calling with a calling card, so this number isn’t a good contact number for me. Sorry. But I’ll check back in shortly. In a few days. Hold down the fort, Gwen, and thanks for everything,” Steven said.

“Be careful, luv.”

Morbius Frank was sitting at a small café in Rome, enjoying the feel of the afternoon sun on his face as he watched the frantic pedestrian traffic. A shadow fell over the table, then Sia Amieri sat down across from him.

“Cross called his office a few hours ago,” the big man said.

“And? Do we know anything more than that? Any hint of where he’s hiding?” Frank asked.

“No. Nothing in that direction. But there is a troubling new development.”

Frank sighed. “Besides having lost him and the girl? In possession of the most valuable treasure in history? Tell me, what could be more troubling?”

“His office got a call from someone at the Vatican. Asking him to get in touch as soon as possible. About the Voynich.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What? This is bad. First we have the girl turning out to have CIA connections, and now we have the Church in direct contact? We’re losing control of this, my son.”

Amieri didn’t respond. There wasn’t anything to say.

“If the Church gets the Scroll back, we can assume that it will disappear forever, and its secret will go with it. I’ve spent too much money and too many years tracking this down to have that happen,” Frank seethed.

“I know. I don’t like it either.”

Frank took a few deep breaths, composing himself, and Amieri pretended not to notice that his mentor’s cup trembled a little as he brought it to his lips.

“Fix this, my son. Whatever it takes. Fix it.”

Natalie and Steven parked at the airport and took a water taxi to Venice, which dropped them in front of Saint Mark’s Square. They meandered around and eventually decided to go into a hotel on the waterfront to use the phone. The interior was old Venice, all gold brocade and velvet and polished dark wood. Natalie took a seat at the lobby bar while Steven sought out the bank of pay phones that were situated by the bathrooms.

He dialed the number on the calling card and, when prompted, entered the number. It took a moment to connect, then answered on the third ring.

“Luca.”

“This is Steven Cross. You left a message for me at my office?” Steven wanted to keep this as brief as possible.

Luca hesitated for a few seconds. “Ah, yes. Dr. Cross. Thank you for calling.”

“How can I help you?”

“I believe we both have an idea. You have come into possession of something that belongs to the Church, and I’d like to discuss a solution before things get any more out of hand,” Luca tried.

“Sounds accusatory. Can you prove that the Church is the legal owner of whatever we’re hypothetically discussing?” Steven threw out.

This already wasn’t going as Luca had envisioned.

“The item in question has been in our possession for centuries. It is clearly our property.”

“So possession establishes ownership? I’d say, in that case, whoever possesses it, owns it,” Steven observed.

“Ownership of some things entails tremendous responsibility and jeopardy. I was hoping we could discuss how to remove any from your life moving forward,” Luca said.

“How do I know you’re not a large part of the risk yourself? It seems like it’s become a very dangerous world all of a sudden.”

“The Church doesn’t endorse bloodshed, Dr. Cross.”

“Tell that to the folks on the receiving end of the Crusades or the Inquisition,” Steven volleyed back.

“I should say that
today’s
Church doesn’t, and that I personally would never authorize it. Which is why I think we have something worth discussing. Depending upon your objective, I may be able to solve a very real problem for you – namely, how to return the item in question without incurring any retribution or threats. The reality is that whoever possesses the item will forever be a target. In fact, removing it from our custody has already accumulated an enormous toll. I’m clear in my objective here. I want the item returned and am prepared to negotiate to arrange that. Simple,” Luca pitched.

“How can I possibly trust you?” Steven asked.

“I’m not sure you’re in any position
not
to trust me. I’m trying to put a stop to a very real disaster that has been set in motion, perhaps unwittingly, and in which you are a regrettable collateral player. I think you’re a very smart man and can see that being involved with a catastrophe can’t end well. For anyone. Besides which, if we can’t come to an arrangement, I think you’ll find trusting me will be the least of your problems.”

Luca had a point. And Natalie didn’t have a plan of any kind that she’d shared with him. Perhaps there was a deal that could be brokered with the Church.

Luca continued. “Do you believe in God, Dr. Cross?”

“Not in the sense you do.”

“Hmm. Well, I do. Obviously. Very much. What I can tell you is that life on this planet is short and that we all have a destiny, and that yours has nothing to do with the item. It pains me that evil seems to have surfaced and struggled for possession of it. You may not believe in God, but surely you’re old enough to believe in evil? You must be worldly enough to have seen it?” Luca asked.

“I’ll concede that point, philosophically. I’ve seen evil. Which is usually nothing more than the actions of greedy, mean-spirited men to satisfy their lusts. I’ll agree that evil exists. It’s us,” Steven said.

“I don’t disagree. But just as evil is us, so is good. They are antipodal, and yet co-exist directly because
we
exist. Different ends of our spectrum, if you will. I am not interested in getting into a theological or philosophical debate, or trying to frame a theistic argument. I’m telling you that someone is killing to get their hands on the item – the same someone who likely participated in its theft. That someone will continue until they have it, and you and the girl will share the fate of everyone else who has stood in their way.” Luca drove home his point. “In a world of moral ambiguity, perhaps we can keep this simple. Being alive is good. Being killed is bad, or evil, if you like. I’m approaching you to see if we can come to terms that will end this before any more evil occurs.”

Steven considered this.

“I have a bargaining chip. Beyond the item, which isn’t mine to give or take.” Steven had considered the merits of playing his trump card and decided to do so. The only thing the Church would hold more valuable than the Scroll, would be the Scroll’s secret.

“There is nothing besides the item. That is all I want. I’m prepared to entertain any terms you might propose,” Luca said.

“Is that really all you want? Are you completely sure about that? Think long and hard before you answer.”

The line was silent for a few seconds.

“You…you’re telling me you’ve done it?” Luca whispered.

“What do you really know about the item? I mean, really? Do you know what it hides? What it contains?”

Luca composed himself. “I know that what we are discussing is too delicate for the telephone.”

“Very well. I’ll call you back in a few hours. Take time to speak to whoever you need to, and get clear on what your true, ultimate objective is. Then perhaps we can meet under circumstances that are safe for us both and have a more substantial discussion that will get us both what we really want.” Steven let that hang, and then gently replaced the handset in the cradle.

Luca sounded genuine, but Steven was afraid that he might be too low in the hierarchy to seal a deal that would keep both he and Natalie safe in perpetuity. But in the end, Luca was right about one thing. Life was short, and if you didn’t have a reasonable assurance that someone wasn’t going to kill you at any moment, then you had nothing. He’d been sucked into this, but if he could put an end to it all on terms he, and Natalie, could live with, then he would do so.

Steven returned to Natalie, who was busy enjoying a
Kir
Royale – the hotel’s specialty. He sat down next to her on the elegant booth seat and, after tasting the liquid concoction, he ordered one for himself before relating how the call had gone.

“What? Give it back? That’s the best you can do?” Natalie fumed. She was clearly emotional over the idea.

“Natalie. Think this through. As long as we have the Scroll, our lives won’t be worth spit. Frank and the Order will pursue us to the end of the earth. So the only option is to give it back to the Order and arrange a transaction where they can protect us. It doesn’t play out any other way. We can’t give it to Frank, because the Order will still be after us, and if you’ve described him correctly, he’ll just kill us anyway. So we can’t keep it, can’t give it to Frank…that only leaves one option, as far as I can see.”

She thought it over, then stood abruptly and said, “I have to use the bathroom.”

She stalked off, still pissed, regardless of the logic.

The bartender brought his drink, and he took an appreciative sip. Natalie returned within a few minutes, seeming more relaxed.

Steven broached the subject again. “The Scroll doesn’t have any value to either of us. If it ever did, now that I’ve decrypted it, the value is gone. It’s not the Scroll that had the value, anyway. It’s the secret the Scroll contains. My solution to our quagmire is straightforward. You want to finish your father’s work and see it through. Fine. I want to help you, and I have the knowledge and capability to do so. But none of this matters if we wind up dead. I’m planning on dying of old age a long time from now, not at the hands of some psychopath’s assassins. If you look at this dispassionately, we need to figure out a way to return the Scroll to get everyone off our backs, and we need to finish the job your father started – which we can either try to do on our own, or we can do in some sort of partnership with the Order – a partnership we’ll control. Those are the only two options. I don’t care which we choose, but I’m not seeing a third.”

Natalie regarded him. “Are you always so damned logical?”

“It’s what I do, Natalie.”

“Not all you do, thank God.” She smiled. “Let’s say I go along with this. What’s the plan?”

Steven told her. Natalie listened without saying a word, and when he was finished, she picked up her drink and swallowed it in one gulp. Smacking her lips, she took his hand and stood.

“Let’s grab lunch. Sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Just like that, it was decided.

In a dark room in the heart of the Vatican, Luca sat quietly with his superior,
His Beatitude Metropolitan Justinian, the leader of the Templars, and the Sentinel, the head of the Order of the Holy Relic. Heavy purple drapes framed the stained-glass windows, adding to the richness of the gold-leaf covered walls. This was an unprecedented meeting, one which Luca had never in his imagination expected to be participating in. Justinian held up a plump hand to underscore his point.

“Diego Luca, no man other than the Sentinel and whoever occupies my office has ever known the full story of the Scroll, or its significance. It is therefore with trepidation that I take you into a confidence that extends to only His Holiness, and the two of us. It goes without saying that you may never share your knowledge with anyone, no matter what the circumstances. You must take it with you into eternity.”

Luca nodded, afraid that his voice would
betray his emotions.

The Sentinel leaned forward, holding Luca with an iron stare.

“The Scroll contains a secret that the papacy had always believed could bring down or forever change the Church. The author of the document believed it could destroy us if it was known, and that its possessor could literally control the Church with the threat of its exposure,” the Sentinel explained.

“What is the secret?” Luca asked, painfully aware of time slipping away.

“That’s the problem. Nobody is sure,” Justinian admitted.

“What?” Luca didn’t understand.

“It is why we have kept the Scroll throughout history and guarded it so jealously. The friar who wrote it originally did so in a cypher of his own devising that was so foolproof nobody has ever been able to unravel it. We know from his statements that he had come into possession of information about something he referred to as the Divine Light, but whatever that was went to the grave with him. Some who have held my office believed that it was the Holy Grail. Others speculated it was something even more precious, beyond imagination, perhaps a gospel written by Jesus himself. All of this was speculation. The friar is dead, and he died without disclosing it to anyone as far as we know.”

“Then the secret…is what the Divine Light actually is?” Luca didn’t understand.