The Voynich Cypher

CHAPTER 25

Steven froze, ears straining for any hint of threat. The catacomb was impenetrably dark. Even after thirty seconds of standing motionless his eyes didn’t adjust. He could hear his heart beating in his ears like kettle drums, and when Natalie shifted her feet the sound seemed to be amplified fifty-fold. Steven slowly slipped the brass tablet into the back of his pants so his hands would be free for whatever was happening. He felt Natalie edge closer and do something, and then heard the distinctive snick of the pistol as she chambered a round. Then a pale wash of illumination lit their area with the flick of the flashlight switch. Steven gestured for her to turn it back off — if there was a threat, there was no point in hanging a neon light out for an assailant to find.

A sound echoed in the far distance; a muffled thud that barely reached them. Then, just as suddenly as the lights had gone off, they flickered back on. Steven held a finger to his lips so that Natalie wouldn’t speak, and then, quietly as he could, moved to the entrance of Januarius’s crypt. She followed, gun at the ready. Once they were free of the tomb, they stopped again, listening for any evidence of company. Silence was their sole companion in the halls of the dead.

Natalie slid past Steven to take the lead, weapon clasped in one hand before her, the flashlight in the other at its side, ready to flick on should the lights fail again. She moved gracefully, sure of her steps and yet soundless. They were still several hundred yards from where Umberto had opened the door for them.

Natalie held up a hand and signaled for Steven to stop. A scrape sounded from far down the passageway. Another noise echoed, this time closer.

Someone was approaching. Natalie motioned to Steven to move into one of the cavities along the way and slid herself into a depression across the passage from him. They both held their breath as footsteps moved along the stone floor, approaching their hiding place.

When Umberto shuffled into view, Steven nodded his head in warning, and Natalie quickly slid the pistol back into her purse. Steven cleared his throat, and Umberto almost fainted.

“What the hell are you trying to do? Scare me to death?” he demanded, hand clenched to his chest.

“I’m sorry. No, we were spooked by the lights going off. My young companion got frightened. What happened?” Steven countered. Natalie shot him an annoyed look at his using her youth as the reason for their fright.

“I was fiddling with the wiring, where it’s coming apart from age, and I guess I tripped something. But I got it sorted out in a few minutes. I apologize for that. Anyhow, your time’s up, so we need to get going, eh?” Umberto tapped on his watch crystal with a dirty nail.

Steven nodded.

“The tombs are fascinating, Umberto,” Natalie said. “Really. They seem to go on forever. Have you ever cataloged everything in here?” she asked, turning a beaming charm on as she pressed close to the man.

“Yes, well, they are interesting, no? I haven’t spent much time down here in forever. As a younger man, yes, and there are still more tunnels below us, but now I have things up in the real world to attend to. These are just a curiosity for me at this point in my life. I keep watch over the entrance to make sure no vandals get in and collect a meager salary from the state for doing so, but other than that and the occasional exploration by a few interested academics, nobody has been down here for years.”

“We can’t thank you enough. It’s always been my fiancé’s dream to visit, and now you’ve helped make that a reality,” she said.

Umberto grinned. “You’re a lucky man, eh, my friend?” he said to Steven.

“So I’ve been told.” Steven smiled back in as neutral a manner as he could muster.

When they reached the top of the stairs it was dusk, getting darker by the second. Steven gave Umberto two hundred dollars as a symbol of his additional gratitude, which made the old man happy. Whatever Danny had paid, and he was sure they’d be getting the bill soon enough, it was worth it. The cool metal of the tablet rubbed against his back, covered by his shirt, as they ambled unhurriedly down the path, Umberto’s eyes boring holes in Natalie’s jeans.

“You think he heard anything, with the drilling?” she murmured to Steven as they approached the gate.

“Nah. He was more interested in you than in anything we were doing in the crypt,” Steven said.

“Old pervert,” she said, her tone good-natured.

“You seem to be surrounded by them,” Steven said, regretting the joke even as he uttered the final words.

“Occupational hazard for a woman in Italy, it seems,” she fired back.

Steven cast a glance over his shoulder, noting that Umberto had disappeared back into the building’s gloom. They moved up the long drive, and Steven slowed his pace as they neared the road, then gripped Natalie’s arm to stop her. He didn’t know what it was, but he had a bad feeling. It could have been nerves from the scare in the catacombs, but he didn’t want to take any chances. And his senses were telling him that something was wrong.

“Let’s circle to the edge of the property and check out the road from there,” he whispered.

Natalie’s eyes flashed understanding, and she extracted the pistol from her purse as they moved down one of the long rows of vines. Several hundred yards further they came to a side wall delineating the periphery of the property, and Steven motioned for Natalie to approach. She did, and he boosted her foot so she could climb over to the neighboring property. Steven jumped and scrambled over the wall, to find himself in another massive field of vines and olive trees. The frontage was another brick wall running parallel to the road, the same as the catacomb. They moved to a gap in the wall and peered out.

It was already so dark that it was hard to make anything out. Steven pointed a hundred yards away, to where they’d entered the catacomb vineyard. Instead of Danny’s car, a van was parked twenty feet from the gate with two men standing beside it. Both had the distinctive shapes of pistols in their hands.

“Let’s keep moving,” Natalie advised. “This field’s huge. If we go to the far edge and climb over the wall there, they won’t see us. The bend in the road should provide cover. We’ll be out of their field of vision.”

Steven nodded agreement.

They walked for five minutes before reaching another, smaller service gate. Natalie looked through the bars and confirmed that they were clear, so Steven repeated the process of boosting her over the wall before following her. They found themselves on a road darkened to the point where it was barely recognizable, the tall trees that lined it further blocking the dim light from the low crescent moon. Natalie took her cell phone from her purse and called Danny’s number, but it went straight to voice mail.

“He’s not answering,” Natalie complained.

“I think it’s safe to say that he either turned us in or they got him. Either way, we have to assume he’s a hostile now.” Steven checked the time. “It’s seven-twenty. We’re maybe a mile from the hotel. I suggest we hoof it, given the welcome committee at the other gate.”

“It’s a nice evening for a walk,” Natalie observed as she set off across the road to one of two intersecting streets.

A car sped by them after they’d crossed. A police cruiser, which slowed down as it passed and then stopped. The brake lights flashed, and then it reversed to where they were walking. Natalie reached into her purse, but Steven stopped her.

Two officers were in the car, and one rolled his window down and addressed Steven.

“Pretty dark out for a walk, no?” he said.

Steven nodded. “We’re just out exploring, and the night rushed in on us.”

“Where are you headed?”

“To our hotel. It’s a nice evening for it,” Steven explained.

The cop looked Natalie over, then grunted. “Have a good one,” he said, and then they pulled off down the road.

Steven and Natalie let out audible exhalations and exchanged worried glances. They needed to make tracks and get out of the area.

After walking several hundred yards up a smaller street, they set off in the direction of the hotel. It took twenty-five minutes to make it, and the first thing Steven did once they were in their room was to carefully clean off the brass tablet. While Natalie watched him, he painstakingly photographed both sides so they’d have a record if they had to ditch it somewhere.

Natalie’s phone rang, startling them both. She checked the number and answered.

“Moody. Am I glad to hear from you,” she said.

“You sound odd, Natalie. What’s going on?” Moody asked.

Natalie explained about their missed rendezvous with Danny, the two mystery men, and the situation with the Roman police.

“Sounds like it’s time to leave Rome. Let me see what we have in the way of safe houses elsewhere in Italy and figure out how to get you some transportation. I’m staying at the St. Regis downtown. I’ll get on the horn and call you ba— wait a second. Natalie. Did Danny have your cell number?” Moody asked.

“Yes. We needed a way to stay in touch. I called him a little while ago but he didn’t answer.”

“Listen to me carefully. Get the numbers you need off your phone and dump it. Immediately. Call my hotel in four hours from a pay phone. I’m checked in under the name Stan Gardener. I’ll get you a new, clean cell. The Italian equivalent of the NSA has the ability to track cells to within a few feet, and we don’t know what kind of strings the group that’s after you can pull. Let’s assume they’ve got Danny and will have your number shortly, if they don’t already. That’s a very real danger. What about this guy you’re with? Does he have one?” Moody asked.

“Yes, but he hasn’t called anyone.”

“Same drill. Pull the contacts and lose it in a river. But treat this as a serious threat. Do it now. I’ll talk to you in four hours.”

Natalie explained about the phones after she’d finished the call.

“Shit. I know this stuff, Natalie. I’m just rusty. He’s right; we have to get rid of them immediately. I’ll send the photos to my PC, and then we’ll ditch the phones. We should probably check out of this hotel, too, just in case they start looking for places that are proximate to the catacombs.”

Natalie nodded and immediately set about packing her bag. She was done in two minutes. It took Steven a little longer while he sent the image files from his phone. Finished, he placed the plate into his duffel.

“Let’s get a cab. Any ideas?” Steven asked.

“I think we should grab dinner while we wait for Moody. I’ve heard dinner in Rome can take three hours, so let’s get near the St. Regis and find a place where we can blend in.”

“You’re on.”

They made their way down the stairs to the rear section of the hotel near the pool, where, after dunking them in the water, they disassembled the phones and jettisoned them in a dumpster by the hotel restaurant.

It took them thirty minutes to make it the few miles in the evening traffic, and when they got near the St. Regis, it turned out to be three blocks from their favorite train station. The driver pulled to the curb in front of a building with an elaborate façade. They paid him and exited, waiting until he’d pulled back into traffic before walking down the block to find a restaurant.

Danny’s head hung against his chest as blood drooled from his badly mangled face onto his shirt front. He struggled for breath, his lungs laboring to get air, each inhalation causing a white-hot lance of pain due to broken ribs. His hands were bound behind his back; he’d long since given up trying to free them.

He was going to die. That much he already knew. Everyone did eventually, but Danny never imagined it would be in this manner, over something he had no real part in. A small piece of his brain told him this wasn’t possible; it had to be some kind of horrible mistake — but the intensity of pain reminded him it was real. The big man had subjected him to far worse than he’d ever dreamed he could live through, and he had no hope left that he’d walk away.

Sia Amieri stepped towards him and slapped his face several times, bringing him back to full consciousness. Danny looked up, his eyes swollen nearly shut from the beating.

Amieri sneered. “I can make this last all night if you want. Again. The girl. Where is she staying? The phone number doesn’t answer. No more lies. How do you get in touch with her?” he demanded.

Danny didn’t know what he needed to say to make the agony end. He shook his head weakly.

Amieri slapped him. “I’m tiring of this. You gave me a number that’s no good. You told me stories. I sent two men to the place you said they would be and nobody showed. That, and there’s no catacomb anywhere — there’s no building or entrance where you said you dropped them off, just a private vineyard. My patience for your lies is at an end. Tell me where you are supposed to meet them, or so help me God you’ll wish you’d never been born.” Amieri watched the bloody froth bubble from Danny’s nose, noting the light pink color. A rib must have punctured a lung. The man wasn’t going to take much more. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll get you to a hospital. I’ll drop you at the emergency room, and you’ll live. You’ll see another birthday, or maybe another anniversary with your wife?” Amieri glanced at the wedding band. “Or your mistress?”

Danny wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him more than anything. But there was nothing to tell, beyond what he’d already said. Danny had admitted that he’d been given the girl’s contact information by his CIA handler, whom he knew only as David, and had run the errands for her as instructed. He’d even given up the location of the safe house, but nothing seemed to satisfy his torturer.

Amieri slammed him in the head again with a bear-like hand, rupturing his eardrum and causing blinding pain, then he moved away from Danny with a look of disgust. He fished a cell phone out of his pants pocket and made a call.

Morbius Frank answered with a barrage of questions. Amieri struggled to answer them.

“No, there’s nothing new on the girl. The investigator insists he’s told us everything. I passed her phone number on to the contact you gave me, and he should have a fix on the location any minute. But beyond that, I dispatched two men to the supposed rendezvous spot and there’s nothing there but dark vines and an old gate. No girl.” Amieri hesitated before telling Dr. Frank the worst news. “He says he got the girl’s contact information from a CIA operative. Known only as David.”

Frank digested the revelation. CIA changed everything, increasing the danger level as well as the possible resources the professor’s daughter had at her disposal.

“CIA? Hmm. Not completely surprising, given what we now know about her background. We must proceed carefully. Finish this and dispose of the body so it won’t be found for a few days. And call me as soon as you have news. This isn’t going well, my son. You must be faster, yet more cautious. New players on the board are not a good thing for us. We cannot afford to lose this game. Am I completely clear?”

“Yes, sir. I will do as instructed. Hopefully the contact with the police will get a location on the phone, or Cross will contact his office. I won’t fail you.”

“Carry on, then.”

Amieri stabbed the phone off and walked over to a makeshift table in the corner, where he reached for a five-foot length of braided yellow nylon rope. He looped a knot in it and then wrapped it several times around each hand. Amieri pulled it taut as he stepped back to the investigator, who was fading in and out of reality.

“You’ve been granted an end to your ordeal, my friend,” he said from behind Danny and then quickly flipped the rope over his head and wrenched the knot into his esophagus, crushing it instantly. Danny’s body stiffened and convulsed for thirty seconds before it slumped inert, life having given up its futile battle for a few more seconds’ reprieve.

Amieri walked around the chair and regarded the dead man’s face with marginal interest. Satisfied by the beginning of cyanosis tingeing the corpse’s lips, he flipped the rope into a corner. He exhaled loudly, having held his breath while close to the dead man, who’d lost control of his bodily functions over the course of their discussion. With any luck it would be a week before anyone came across the investigator’s remains.

In the end, the man hadn’t known much. A pity.

His phone rang. It was Frank’s contact with the Roman police, who was running a trace on the girl’s phone. He jotted down the name and address and grunted before hanging up. It was amazing what they could do with technology.

Time to pay a visit to their hotel.