Prime (27 page)

FORTY-FIVE

King was wrong in one respect. Parker had been glad to have him in the
room, because it had given him someone to talk to. Sasha didn’t seem the least
bit interested in conversation. After King left, Parker watched her reading and
tried in vain to come up with a way to break the awkward silence. He was
surprised when she spoke up.

“You figured this out?”

He shook his head quickly. “No, you did all
the work. I just plugged in the variables from what al-Tusi wrote.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.” Something
like a smile twitched across her face, and she nodded toward the door through
which King had just passed. “Do you think he understood any of it?”

“Jack’s a smart guy.
But
truthfully?
It’s a lot to swallow.
The source of life?
It seems a little farfetched.”

“You’re right.” She looked at the screen
thoughtfully. She was silent for a long time. “I want to go there,” she said
finally.
“To the Prime.
I want to see it for myself;
to know if it’s true.”

Parker stifled an urge to laugh. She was
serious. “I think Jack has a different set of priorities.”

She crossed her arms, looking almost
petulant. “Your team was supposed to be helping me, remember?”

“Sasha, we solved it. Isn’t that enough?” He
already knew the answer. The quest to understand the Voynich manuscript had
come to define her life, and now, with the ultimate goal in sight, he was
telling her to back off. He sighed. “You said that all life is mathematically
connected to the Prime. What did you mean by that?”

“Why do you ask?”

“If I’m going to sell Jack on the idea of
finding the Prime, I’m going to need a more persuasive reason than just to
satisfy your curiosity.”

It must have been the right thing to say,
because when she looked at him, there wasn’t a trace of irritation in her expression.
“Life is a mathematical process. Each of us is the product of countless
permutations that began with the Prime event.

“Think about your own life as a mathematical
expression. You are the product of DNA from your two parents. And they are each
the product of two. We are each the result of millions of such computations,
and our DNA contains all those factors.”

He nodded to indicate that he understood, but
he still didn’t see what she was driving at.

“But at some point, the process flips. The
branches of the family tree start coming together and the number of factors
reduces
down to primes.”

“Adam and Eve.”

She inclined her head.
“Figuratively
speaking.
Somewhere in history, all humans share a common ancestor, or,
put another way, a prime factor. Of course, the prime factor for humans is just
one point on a much larger continuum, but that too can be mathematically
reduced to a prime factor—
the
Prime
factor.”

“Okay, I get that. Everything starts with
something, chicken and egg. But that’s not what you meant by a connection, is
it?”

She pursed her lips. “Life is more than just
the mathematical distribution of genetic material. There’s something else
involved that we still don’t understand; some component or catalyst that got
the whole thing started. It’s in every living thing; it’s what separates living
cells from organic matter and a living human from a dead corpse. And the really
remarkable thing is that this life-force—whatever you want to call it—is the
same now as it was at the beginning.”

“You mean it’s the same kind of energy,
right?”

She shook her head.
“The
same energy, undiluted and indivisible.”

“How is that possible?”

“It’s like using one candle to light another.
The original candle might die out, but as long as you keep lighting candles,
it’s the same original flame you started with. It goes on forever.” She turned
her head. “Are you familiar with quantum entanglement?”

“Two particles interact, then separate but
remain connected, no matter how far apart they are.”

“Everything in the universe is entangled
because all the matter in the universe originated with a single event, the Big
Bang. But living things are quantum entangled in a very specific way, linked to
the Prime event. Every living thing on Earth is connected, through time and
space by quantum entanglement, to the Prime. It’s like we’re all plugged into
it by an invisible extension cord. Do you see now why finding and protecting
the Prime source is so important?”

Parker certainly did. “I’ll take this to
Jack. I’ll make him understand.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“If he doesn’t, then I guess we’ll have to go
with Plan B.”

FORTY-SIX

Langley, Virginia

The phone on Domenick Boucher’s desk started ringing as soon as he
stepped into his office, almost as if the caller somehow knew that he had arrived
to start his workday.

That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Like everyone else in the civilized world,
Boucher had begun to think of his desk phone as a relic from another age. He
hardly ever used it. He was so accustomed to using his encrypted digital phone
that he preferred to make calls with it, even when in his office, and anyone
who might want to contact him directly, would almost certainly know that and
have used his cellular number.

With a frown, he picked it up and cautiously
said: “Hello?”

“Good morning, Director Boucher,” said an
electronically distorted voice. “This is Deep Blue.”

Boucher’s forehead creased in concern. He was
one of a select few who not only knew about Deep Blue—the one man the President
trusted enough to run his new super-secret black ops team—but he also knew the
man’s true identity. Chess Team however, had no ties to the Agency, and Boucher
couldn’t think of a single reason why Deep Blue would contact him like this.
There were other, much more direct routes of communication.

“I’m listening,” he finally said.

“The team recovered your missing contractor
last night.”

“Sasha Therion?” Boucher’s anxiety eased
measurably. “Alive and well, I hope.”

“That remains to be seen. There’s been a new
development.”

Boucher listened without interruption, and
when Deep Blue finished, he simply said: “I’ll make it happen.”

He then hung up and called for an emergency
meeting with all senior department heads. Ten minutes later he addressed a
conference room full of harried-looking staffers.

“As you all are no doubt aware, a few days
ago one of our own, Field Officer Scott
Klein,
was
murdered by a group of traitors. Sasha Therion, one of our contracted
cryptanalysts was abducted in the same event.

“I’m pleased to say that last night, a Delta
team rescued her. The team also recovered information relating to the
development of an unspecified biogenic weapon.”

He briefly glanced at the Director of
Sci/Tech, the only man in the room who knew the full details of what Sasha
Therion had been sent to find. The man’s face creased in confusion at the
seeming incongruity. No one else knew anything about the Voynich manuscript or
what it purportedly contained, nor did they need to know.

A ripple of relief circled the room like a
crowd wave at a sporting event. Boucher let them savor the news for a moment
before dropping the other shoe. “At approximately 0900 Zulu time this
morning—so about eight hours ago—our contractor and a Delta operator named
Daniel
Parker,
went AWOL from Incirlik Air Force Base
in Turkey. Their purpose is unknown, but it is believed that they might be on
their way to the south of France, looking for a component necessary for the
manufacture of the aforementioned biogenic weapon.

“It isn’t known at this point if Therion or
Parker were involved in the original incident. They could be acting as free
agents, or they might even be working under the assumption that they have the
best interests of the nation at heart. Regardless of their motives, it is
imperative that they be found and taken into custody.

“The Delta team will be handling the
operational aspects; our job is to provide them with actionable
intelligence—review video camera feeds, cell phone calls, get our assets in
airports and train stations… Hell, get out a damn Ouija board, if it will help
track them down.”

Boucher let that sink in for a moment before
concluding. “Coordinate with my office for sectors of responsibility. Let’s
make this happen, people.”

Boucher retreated back to his office and
spent the rest of the morning assigning specific tasks to the different
departments of his agency. He didn’t expect immediate results; it would take
several hours to collect enough data to get started, and perhaps days to sift
through it all. Worst of all, there was no guarantee of success, especially
considering for whom they were searching.

Parker had received the very best training in
escape and evasion techniques; if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.

FORTY-SEVEN

Shanghai, China

Rainer thumbed the button on his phone to end the call. He turned to
face his employer with a satisfied grin. “We just caught a break that might
make up for the disaster in Iran.”

The other man, who had been lounging on a
couch and idly watching television, looked up with a frown at the implicit
insult. “I work with what I have. We both agreed that it was too risky for you
to make that trip. Obviously, our gangster friends weren’t up to the task of
taking on the US Special Forces, but to be fair, we didn’t know they would be
there.”

Rainer suppressed a chuckle. He had known; he
had even said as much, but the billionaire had dismissed his concerns, claiming
that Sigler and the others were almost certainly dead in Myanmar. Rainer hadn’t
believed that for a second, if for no other reason than that he and Jack Sigler
had unfinished business.

Still, going to Iran had been a risk he
wasn’t eager to take, so he’d bowed to the other man’s wishes. While the triad
soldiers, in the guise of a Chinese cultural delegation, were getting their
asses handed to them, Rainer and his men had been indulging in a veritable
smorgasbord of pleasures afforded to guests of the five-star Renaissance
Shanghai Pudong Hotel, where they had been holed up since their escape from the
facility in Myanmar.

He waved off the excuse. “My agency contact
reports that Sasha has gone off the reservation, and she’s got help from Danny
Parker.”

“Should that name mean something to me?”

“Parker was in my unit. He’s a good soldier
and a smart guy, but I think he has a soft spot for Sasha. You know, she says
‘jump’…well, it sounds like he jumped.”

The billionaire still didn’t get it. “Why has
she left?”

“The official word is that it has something
to do with—get this—‘biogenic weapons.’ Does that sound familiar?”

The man’s eyes flitted back and forth as he
pondered the news.

Rainer went on. “I think our girl solved the
problem, and learned something important from the book. The Company is looking
for her and Parker in the south of France.”

“France? What on Earth could be there?”

“I guess I’ll find out when I run her down,”
Rainer answered confidently.

“Your decision to implant the RFID tracking
chip in her when she was unconscious was fortuitous. That bit of foresight is
going to pay off a huge dividend.”

“Yeah, well that’s me. Mr. Prepared. Speaking
of which, I don’t want to get caught flatfooted like those jokers in Iran.”

His employer just smiled. “I think I can help
you with that.”

FORTY-EIGHT

Vallon-Pont-d’Arc, France

Daniel Parker breathed in the cool air and turned slowly to take in the
panoramic vista laid out before him. Thousands of years ago, the Ardèche River
had cut through the soft limestone landscape, leaving a deep gorge, and
although the river’s course had changed long ago, the place still remembered.
He felt that it remembered something else too, something much more ancient.

Sasha got out of their rented Renault, but
she didn’t seem the least bit aware of the magnificent scenery. Her attention
was completely fixed on the strange device she placed on the hood of the
car—really nothing more than a board on which several irregular looking quartz
crystals hung suspended by fine copper wires. Roger Bacon had once possessed
such a device, and he had probably stood with it on this very spot.

They had built Sasha’s version of the crystal
array shortly after arriving in Paris, though hers was an upgraded model. The
bare copper wires were spliced to a length of speaker wire that trailed from
the microphone jack of her laptop computer. All she needed to do was push a
button, and the computer would play a harmonic frequency that would vibrate in
the crystals. The computer would then translate those vibrations into a graphic
display, allowing for a much greater degree of precision than Bacon could ever
have hoped for.

Sasha studied the display as she adjusted the
position of the crystal device, just as she had done in Paris, from the roof of
the hostel where they had spent their first night, and several times
thereafter, to verify that they were on the correct path, following in Bacon’s
footsteps.

They kept to the back roads and avoided human
contact. Parker knew they were being hunted.

He gazed once more at the wooded slopes that
ran up to the sheer walls of the gorge, wondering if they were being watched
right now, and if so, by whom.

Sasha made a disapproving sound as she
fiddled with the device. He watched her for a moment, marveling at her
single-mindedness,
then
finally he asked, “What’s
wrong?”

She pointed at the looming cliff wall to the
north. “The signal is strongest in that direction, but it’s not strong enough.”

He circled around the car and looked over her
shoulder. Based on her earlier calculations, they should have been practically
on top of the Prime source, but sure enough, the crystals weren’t vibrating
with the feverish intensity he expected. He turned the crystal array back and
forth, but the action only had the effect of further diminishing the
vibrations. He returned them to their original position and stared in the
direction in which they were pointing.

Had Roger Bacon and Nasir al-Tusi been
confronted with such a puzzle?

“Right at the cliffs,” he muttered. He tilted
the array up, toward the place where the rock face met the sky, but once more
the signal strength faltered.

No,
not up
, he realized with a
growing sense of excitement.

He tipped the array so that it was angled
down.

The pattern of oscillations on the screen
practically exploded with intensity.

“You did it,” Sasha said, almost
breathlessly.

He savored the rare praise. Despite all that
he had done for her, Sasha still seemed unable to think of him in anything but
the most utilitarian terms. He was a tool to help her accomplish her purpose, just
as the CIA, the Delta team and even Rainer and his triad allies had
been,
each in their own way and without even suspecting it.
This wasn’t a cynical calculation on her part; it was just how she was.

Driven.

His initial physical attraction to her had
cooled somewhat over the course of their days together, but his fascination
with both her intellect and her personality had grown stronger. She was an
enigma, a puzzle even more intricate than the Voynich manuscript, and just as
he had solved it, he would also solve her. He would give her what she wanted,
and when she had it, he would unlock that part of her that was capable of
compassion, friendship…and love?

Well, he could hope anyway.

Her elation faltered. “But I don’t
understand. We have to go down? How is that possible?”

He scooped the array up and tucked it under
one arm, then picked up the computer. “Let’s go find out.”

They left the road, skirted a small field of
grape vines, and pushed into the pine forest. Parker thought he could feel the
crystals vibrating against his skin. It was probably his imagination, fueled by
the anticipation of success, but with each step forward, he could sense the
energy of the Prime rising out of the ground, invigorating him and filling him
with possibilities.

The woods ended abruptly at the foot of the
cliff. Parker checked the array again; if the crystals were to be believed, the
Prime lay somewhere within the limestone wall, perhaps fifty feet below them.

“Do you suppose this is as close as they
got?”

Sasha’s brow furrowed, as if she had never
considered this possibility.

“We could test it here,” he continued. “Try
one of the formulae from the book. If it works, we’ll have our answer.”

She shook her head. “No. They found it. The
book said they found it. You read it, too.”

He knew she was right. While the Voynich
manuscript had been short on details about what and where the Prime was,
nothing in the account suggested that Bacon and al-Tusi had been stopped short
of their ultimate goal. They had found it; somehow, they had found a way into
the Earth’s interior.

They skirted along the wall, scanning the
rough limestone face for some shadowy niche, crevice or crack that might
conceal a cave entrance. What they found instead, barely a hundred yards from
where they started, was a door.

It was so incongruous that, for a few
minutes, Parker could only stare in disbelief. There was a gray metal door with
a U-shaped handle above a metal box with numbered buttons, pasted into a gap in
the cliff face with dark concrete. It looked like the entrance to a utility
corridor at a mall or an amusement park. Then he remembered where they were,
and he realized what lay on the other side of the door.

He turned to Sasha, unable to contain his
excitement at this revelation. “This is Chauvet Cave.”

She blinked at him, the name evidently
ringing no bells.

Parker laid an almost reverent hand on the
door.

Discovered in 1994, Chauvet-Pont-d’Arc Cave
was the site of what was arguably the most impressive example of paleolithic
art on Earth. Carbon dating of charred timbers—wood used for fires to
illuminate the cave for the artists—dated back more than thirty thousand years,
making the paintings in Chauvet Cave the oldest known examples of human
artwork. The walls of the cave were adorned with extraordinary detailed images
of horses, bears, panthers—more than a dozen different species of animals, many
extinct. Some of the paintings seemed to represent mythical creatures, chimera
combinations of beasts that had never actually lived on the planet, or perhaps,
like the plants painted in the Voynich manuscript, had existed only here and only
for a brief time.

He had read about this place in National Geographic.
What was truly remarkable about the cave was how well it had been preserved.
Similar discoveries across Europe, such as at the one at Lascaux, had been
severely degraded by thousands of visiting tourists, but almost immediately
after its discovery, Chauvet Cave had been locked up tight. Even the scientists
authorized to conduct research on the site had to observe stringent procedures
to minimize their impact.

Parker felt his excitement roll back like the
tide. “‘Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further,’” he muttered.

“What’s that?
Something
from the manuscript?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s from the
Bible…the Book of Job. Bacon and al-Tusi might have been able to get closer,
but this is the end of the line for us.”

“It can’t be. We haven’t come this far to be
turned back now. Can’t we break in?” She looked around, belatedly checking to
see if they were being observed.

Parker balked momentarily at the cavalier
suggestion; it wasn’t just the illegality of the action—he did illegal things
on a routine basis in the interest of a greater good—but rather the immorality
of it. This was a sacred place; a treasure to be preserved, not desecrated.

Yet, what if the very reason it had been
venerated by those ancient artists was because it contained the thing they now
sought? What if those primitive cave painters had, perhaps even without really
knowing it, intuitively recognized that this place was a source of life?

The
source of life.

Sasha was right. They had come too far to
turn back now.

He stared at the door a moment longer, trying
to think of the best way to get past it. He hadn’t been able to bring along
explosives for a breaching charge; he didn’t even have a Swiss Army knife.

“Something’s not right here.” He turned to
Sasha. “The original entrance to this cave was sealed up by a landslide about
twenty thousand years ago. That’s why it’s so well preserved.”

“So?”

“So, this entrance wasn’t discovered until
just a few years ago. And I would be willing to bet money that Bacon and
al-Tusi didn’t come this way.”

“Then there’s another entrance?”

“Maybe.
But I think there’s another answer; an
answer worthy of the men who wrote the Voynich manuscript.” He offered her an
outstretched hand. “Do you trust me?”

He saw immediately that she did not, not
unreservedly. His heart sank like a stone. After everything he had done for
her, all the risks and sacrifice… She still couldn’t find it in her heart to
give him the benefit of the doubt. She stared at his hand warily, but finally
took it, clasping his fingers as if to indicate that she would comply, but only
on her own terms. Parker struggled back from the event horizon of his emotions,
and he gave her hand an awkward squeeze. Then, he led her back the way they’d
come.

Parker set down the computer. In response to
an unspoken question, he said: “What do we know about the Prime? It’s a place
where harmonic frequencies can be used to radically alter the composition of
matter, right?”

“You don’t mean…?”

“It’s what the alchemists were always looking
for. They understood the connection, but they didn’t have the technological
know-how. We already know that wave energy can have an effect on the states of
matter; what do you think a microwave oven does? It causes water molecules to
vibrate, which releases heat.”

Her eyes began darting back and forth,
processing his suggestions, calculating. Then her expression changed.

Not just her expression.

He felt her hand shift in his, sliding up so
that their palms were facing.

Then the moment passed. She let go and knelt
at the computer, once more consumed by calculations that had nothing at all to
do with him.

He heard the sound of her fingers tapping on
the keyboard, but then he heard something else that drew his attention away. It
wasn’t a distinctive sound, more of a change in atmosphere than anything else,
but it chilled him nevertheless. He scanned the tree line and saw movement.

Then he saw people, and before he could utter
even a word of warning, he recognized one of the men striding toward them.

Kevin Rainer.