Thieves Like Us 01 - Thieves Like Us (13 page)

‘Coldhardt’s called a meeting,’ she announced with a smile. ‘I will escort you, yes?’

‘It would be a pleasure,’ said Jonah, though he felt his insides twitch and tickle in grim anticipation. It was a kind of stage fright, he supposed. Would Coldhardt expect him to crack the lekythos
cipher on the spot?

Con led him through the old, impressive passageways of the castello. She had to stand in front of a retinal scanner to activate the hidden lift. As in Geneva, a section of floor sank smoothly down into the hidden depths before discharging its passengers into a brightly lit antechamber.

This version of the hub was smaller but otherwise nearly identical. Coldhardt sat at his desk, just as he had the last time Jonah had seen him. He smiled in greeting, but the gesture stopped short of his eyes. Con fared little better, despite the major-league dental dazzle in her boss’s direction.

Tye, Motti and Patch were already seated. Jonah was glad to see the skin round Patch’s good eye was now a lighter shade of purple and Motti’s nose was less swollen – he wore a new pair of glasses, identical to the old. Tye waved her stiff arm and flexed her fingers in what might have been greeting, or might have been physio – he wasn’t sure which. But she looked a lot more relaxed. Twenty-four hours’ rest seemed to have done all of them some good.

‘Welcome, Jonah,’ said Coldhardt. ‘You enjoyed your first field trip, I hope?’ That roguish touch of Irish in his accent made the enquiry slightly mocking.

‘It was an experience,’ Jonah answered, evenly. For a fleeting moment, he felt like a fly caught in the dead centre of some immense web.

‘Sit down. Look at the screens.’ There were only four of them on the walls of this junior hub, each of them plain blue, devoid of signal. Coldhardt sat at the head of the table and tapped a remote. The
screen top left kicked into sudden life. It showed an obscure arrangement of yellow points scattered over black.

‘I recognise that pattern,’ said Con. ‘It is the same as the ink spots on the note I found in the Egyptian’s room, no?’

‘The
dead
Egyptian’s room,’ Patch added, in case they needed clarification.

‘The resemblance is striking isn’t it?’ To reinforce the point, Coldhardt put an image of the ink spots on the screen top right. ‘The points of light represent a constellation that sprawls across 948 square degrees of sky – a part of which falls within the plane of the zodiac between Scorpio and Sagittarius.’

Con looked at Tye. ‘It’s the constellation of Ophiuchus. Like Demnos said.’

Coldhardt nodded. ‘Yes, Ophiuchus. The only human being in history to be granted a place among the stars.’

‘So that chick who trounced Tye in the museum,’ said Motti, ‘she was, what, a stargazer with attitude?’

‘From the serpent tattoo Tye described and her attire, I would say the female belonged to the Cult of Ophiuchus. An ancient secret society supposed to have died out centuries ago.’ He smiled, his rich voice shot through with a measure of ice. ‘Like the man himself, blessed with a long, long life.’

‘So what – these people are his fan club?’ said Jonah uneasily. ‘They hold Ophiuchus conventions and stuff?’

‘They practise his teachings,’ said Coldhardt. ‘Follow the ancient texts. It was long believed that his
acolytes could recite every prescription by rote. One reason for the cult’s believed extinction was that from the Middle Ages onwards, certain unscrupulous types tortured many of the cultists to death in their efforts to extract the recipe for Amrita. None of them gave away so much as a syllable.’

‘Devoted,’ said Tye.

‘Idiots,’ Con muttered.

‘Fanatics,’ Coldhardt corrected them both. ‘But it seems they were not destroyed by this persecution. Merely driven underground.’

‘So why come sniffing around the surface now?’ Patch asked.

Motti cracked him on the head with a pencil. ‘Because shit is going down,’ he said simply.

‘Your birthday is on December 2nd, Jonah.’ Coldhardt was looking at him expectantly. ‘Is that not so?’

‘Yeah. What’re you gonna get me?’

‘Remind me, that would make you in astrological terms …?’

‘You want me to say the obvious, that I’m a Sagittarius,’ said Jonah. ‘So I’m guessing that I’m really an
Ophiuchan
, right?’

If Coldhardt was impressed, he didn’t show it. ‘Quite correct. From November 30th until December 17th the sun passes through Ophiuchus. There are thousands born under the Ophiuchan star sign, if they only knew it.’

‘So why does everyone make out there are only twelve zodiac signs?’ asked Tye.

‘Twelve months of the year,’ Con suggested.
‘It’s neater.’

‘There’s more to it than that.’ There was a wintry gleam in Coldhardt’s eyes. ‘The origins of astrology can be traced back to 3000 BC. As an art it was pioneered by the Chaldeans of Babylonia, but the ancient Etruscans, Egyptians, Hindus, the Chinese – they all held that the movements of the heavens affected not only their crops and the seasons, but the fates of all humankind.’

‘Like believing comets were bad omens,’ said Tye.

Coldhardt nodded. ‘In the fourth century BC the science of astrology was practised in Ancient Greece. And around that time, a presence of evil was linked to the constellation of Ophiuchus. A kind of hysteria appears to have set in – and soon, no mage would cast horoscopes for that sign.’

‘Why?’ asked Jonah simply.

‘The documentation is frustratingly sparse,’ Coldhardt admitted. ‘It seems that even the act of writing about this evil was considered enough to bring a curse upon the author. However …’ He paused, his expression growing more severe, his voice dying to a theatrical whisper. ‘Some imply that Ophiuchus’s long life eventually corrupted him. That his thirst for knowledge led to his possession by unspeakable forces and a terrible fate. That since he refused to travel to the dead land … its dreadful denizens travelled to him.’

‘Just stories,’ Con argued, looking round at the others for support, and finding only grave faces.

‘And yet despite this evil about him,’ said Tye, ‘these acolytes, they still guard his powers, his prescriptions?’

Coldhardt nodded. ‘So it would seem. The few who are left, anyway.’

‘So just what was in that vase?’ asked Jonah, a now-familiar tingle travelling along his spine. ‘A secret they were willing to kill for?’

‘Not enough of the black powder was recovered to be analysed properly,’ said Coldhardt. ‘All I’ve been able to ascertain is that it was organic in nature. Such a complete cellular degeneration is highly unusual. However, there –’

‘What about the pottery fragments that Patch –?’

‘
Do not interrupt me, Jonah
.’

Jonah instantly opened his mouth to apologise, but there was something in the old man’s eyes … some dark strength there that Jonah couldn’t fathom. His mouth dried. The room fell crypt-silent.

For a moment, those eyes seemed almost inhuman.

Then the moment passed, as Coldhardt spoke more softly: ‘I will come to the fragments in due course.’

‘Of course,’ Jonah said. ‘I – I’m sorry.’

‘Now, as I was saying. There may yet be a result forthcoming on the substance that was stored and sealed within the lekythos all those centuries ago …’ Coldhardt smiled wanly. ‘From Samraj Vasavi.’

Con frowned. ‘Her? How can she help us?’

‘Those people who stole the funeral vase ahead of you all … the registration plate of their car in Cairo, as recorded by Jonah, was naturally a false one.’ Coldhardt smiled, his earlier outburst apparently forgotten. ‘However, by allying myself to certain …
agencies
, I was able to track down the manufacturer and fitter of that fraudulent plate. The car in question
was a black Chrysler – registered to Serpens Biotech.’

‘Samraj’s multinational,’ breathed Tye.

A third screen flicked into life, this time showing a large, white concrete edifice against a deep blue sky. ‘This morning, that Chrysler was seen parked outside this Serpens facility in Jordan.’

‘So is that where Samraj is based right now,’ Tye wondered, ‘or is she home in her mansion in Florence?’

‘I really couldn’t tell you,’ said Coldhardt, matter-of-factly.

There was a pause. Then Jonah noticed Tye look down at the table, as if troubled.

‘What’s an acolyte of some ancient sect doing running errands for the head of a big genetics firm?’ asked Motti. ‘Makes no sense.’

‘Or if you look at it the other way round,’ Con argued, ‘why does Samraj’s high-tech multinational company need the help of an ancient, superstitious sect?’

Coldhardt nodded. ‘Strange behaviour on both sides, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Only one of those guys we came up against had the tattoo,’ Patch pointed out. ‘Maybe she’s retired from the cult.’

‘Membership of the cult is for life,’ said Coldhardt. ‘
Long
life. Jonah, those pottery fragments you mentioned earlier – the others tell me you think it’s a cipher.’

Jonah shrugged. ‘It’s like nothing I’ve come across, but yeah. I do.’

‘Perhaps you could set up a likely program to crack
the code? Regretfully, we have less computing power here than in Geneva, but while the solution is slowly assembled … I have another use for you.’

Jonah raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘Indeed. We’re pleased with your progress. You’re being kept on.’

‘That’s generous of you. Cheers.’

‘It’s my hope that as you learn to drop your guard a little, you’ll be able to curb your facetious tongue.’ Coldhardt smiled again. ‘As for my generosity … you’ll find an indication of it in your room here.’

At once Jonah was buzzing with curiosity. But he played it cool. ‘This “other use” for me you mentioned …’

‘Our employer, Mr Demnos, is most upset that we were – shall we say – beaten to the punch in gaining possession of the complete lekythos. Yes, we have a part of the lekythos cipher, but the other part must surely now be in Samraj’s possession.’

‘So it’s like the prescription for the Amrita,’ Con reasoned. ‘They both have a part of it, but neither has the whole thing.’

‘Will Samraj be able to translate the cipher without Jonah?’ asked Patch, rather touchingly.

‘Oh yes,’ said Coldhardt simply. ‘She will go to any lengths to secure the information she needs.’

Jonah glanced at Tye again, but she was still looking down at the table. He sensed that something was wrong, but didn’t have a clue what it might be.

Con, meanwhile, briskly summed up the situation: ‘So now we must find her bits of the lekythos as well as her fragments of the Amrita prescription, yes?
That is, if she really has them.’

Coldhardt smiled enigmatically. ‘Oh, I am quite certain they exist.’

‘How come?’ said Motti.

‘I know Samraj of old,’ was his only answer. ‘But Con is right. Which is why we now have
two
priority assignments. First, we must steal, or at least photograph, the scraps of prescription she keeps at her house. Jonah, you will accompany Motti and Patch to Florence.’

‘And help them break into that mansion?’ Jonah wavered. ‘It’s one thing breaking into a museum or something, but when it’s someone’s home …’

‘If it helps ease your conscience, I believe Samraj stole those fragments in the first place. It is very doubtful that any police force will involve itself in this affair.’

Jonah didn’t have to look at Motti to know a
told-you-so
stare was being tossed his way. ‘So are we meant to be looking out for the other bits of the lekythos too?’

‘No.’ Coldhardt steepled his fingers. ‘Wherever Samraj is, she will be having them tested, examined … pored over in detail.’

‘So me and Tye take the second assignment, yes?’ said Con brightly.

‘You will take the plane and travel to the Serpens building in Aqaba that our cultist friends so recently frequented.’ Coldhardt filled the fourth and final screen with a map of the area – Aqaba was situated at the top of the fat boot of the Middle East, very close to the border of Egypt. ‘You will …
explore
the
premises. See if you can find what’s happened to the lekythos, where it might have gone. Join me here at 1800 hours for a full briefing. Motti, we’ll run over your strategy for the mansion job at 1900.’ He paused. ‘In the meantime, I have one or two private calls I need to make. Jonah, return here in thirty minutes. I want you to give me your first thoughts on a strategy for cracking the lekythos cipher.’ He smiled round at the table. ‘You may go, my children.’

Tye rose and crossed quickly to the door. She hesitated in the doorway, glancing back at Coldhardt as though something was still bugging her. But he was staring at his screens, apparently lost in thought.

As she slipped from the underground room, Jonah quickened his step to catch up. ‘How’s that shoulder now?’

‘Better, thanks,’ she said.

‘So what else is up?’

She looked away. ‘What are you on about?’

‘I saw you in there,’ he persisted. ‘Something’s wrong. Care to share?’

‘Yes, you look glum, sweets.’ Con had joined them in the lift, Motti and Patch close behind her. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s nothing,’ Tye muttered, with just the tiniest warning look at Jonah. ‘I could just really do without another long-haul to the Middle East, that’s all.’

‘It’s not Coldhardt’s fault the cultists took the funeral vase to Aqaba,’ said Con as the lift pushed them serenely upwards to rejoin the castle corridor. ‘If we’d done our jobs properly in Cairo –’

‘Oh, if
we’d
done our jobs, huh?’ said Motti,
rolling his eyes. ‘Poor ol’ Con, shown up in front of the old man. I suppose if I’d let
you
go into that lockup, the lekythos would be all ours, right?’

‘I never said that.’

‘No, you didn’t have to.’

‘Oh, just stop it,’ Tye snapped, ‘all of you.’ She pushed past Jonah to get out of the concealed lift, stalking off down the castle corridor. The patches of late afternoon sun through the lead-glass windows were like spotlights tracking her progress, and she put on a good show: aloof and weary. But Jonah couldn’t help feeling that this
was
about more than just tiredness, whatever she said. That something
was
up.