The Voynich Cypher (39 page)

Luca motioned with his pistol, and Natalie and Steven flinched as his voice rose. “So, why?
Why
? I’ll tell you why. I already know the outcome of this little adventure. The secrets will stay secret, and nothing will change. The rich will get richer. The poor will stay oppressed and poor. I got to thinking that I don’t know how much time I have left, so why not do what the Church always has? Why not focus on
my
needs and accumulate something for myself? I’ve lived in poverty my entire life within rock-throwing distance of palaces, while the religion I pledged my soul to is let down by its servants in the interests of greed. Why not benefit, since the Church always does? I’ve been an idiot, a naïve and stupid man. But I’m not going to be stupid anymore. Now, no more talking.”

Luca glanced at his watch. They stood motionless in the cave for what seemed like forever. Steven tried to edge closer to the wall. Luca shook his head. It was no good; there wasn’t enough space to maneuver.

“At least let me check on Robert. He’s still out cold,” Steven said after a few more minutes had gone by.

“Forget it. Stay where you are and don’t move.”

“But he needs help,” Natalie protested.

“Heaven will help him if he truly requires it.”

After another wait, Steven resumed baiting Luca, sure he could suck him in. “Sounds like you’ve confused stupidity with being honest. Weren’t you the one who asked me whether I believed in God? Whether I knew the difference between good and evil? What was that? An act?” Steven asked.

“No. Not an act. I should have framed my question differently. It’s not about good or evil. Good men do evil things, and evil men do good things. Hitler loved his dog. It’s not that simple. It’s not good versus evil. It’s rich versus poor, powerful versus powerless. The Church understands that. It knows that with money and power, you can affect outcomes, control things. You can make or break kings, and build or crush empires. The meek don’t inherit anything but a cold, shallow grave while their children’s lifetimes are spent in indentured servitude. The poor have no power. The rich and powerful allow them the illusion of free will and power so they’ll behave and not cause trouble. The privileged allow elections in which all the candidates are owned by them. They allow a choice between their bought-and-paid-for alternatives. No, if you want to do good, or have any power in the real world, you have to have money. That’s what I’ve learned from watching the Church my entire life.”

Natalie frowned. “That’s a corruption of a concept. By men. How can you stand here, within a few feet from the body of your Savior, and confuse the abomination of power with your belief in Christianity? How can you live with yourself?” Natalie demanded.

“That’s
my
point, not yours. That entity with all the power and money will decide whether or not this remains secret, and I’m telling you that it will. There’s nothing I’ll be able to do to change that. Nor will you. If you accept that I’m right, then the only remaining question is whether you make money from it, or not. I think in that respect, Dr. Frank is absolutely correct. Do you really think that he wants to make the Church dance for him? What do you really believe this is all about? You think he wants these remains for his own? Please. He wants what everyone wants. He’s recognized an opportunity in this to make out handsomely, by simply allowing something to happen that the Church also wants to happen. So everybody wins. The Church gets to hide their secrets. Frank makes a fortune. The Church pays him to go away and doesn’t even sneeze over the amount. Doesn’t matter what the number is. Because there’s a bottomless pit of money where that came from. Everyone wins, except me. It just took me a while to realize that I could do what I am being chartered to do by my Church and make my own fortune in the process.”

“So this is about money?” Steven spat.

“Isn’t everything?” a voice from the cave entrance said, as two shadows momentarily blocked out the shafts of sunlight.

Morbius Frank entered the cave, mopping his cadaverous face with a silk handkerchief. His safari hat was cocked jauntily on his head, lending him the appearance of death on holiday. He was holding a pistol – a Glock 17, its long silencer directed ominously in their direction. Sia Amieri stood to his side, having stopped near the crown of thorns on the podium, his bulk dwarfing his master. Frank took in the situation with a glance and then eyed the crown and the tablet beneath it more closely. He moved towards it but stopped short, as if fearing to touch it. He studied the inscription and nodded.

“Ah… So the legends are true. It does exist. But in the end, like so many things, reality is far different than the stories. It’s just a few words,” Frank said, as if to himself.

“Who the hell are you?” Natalie asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Frank looked her up and down. “Well, what a charming young hothouse flower you are, my dear. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. Morbius Frank. And this is my associate, Mr. Amieri. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I’ve heard so much about you, but I see that it hardly does you justice. You’ve led us all on a merry chase.”

“You’re the murdering scumbag who killed my father.”

“Tut
tut
, my dear. Such an attitude and mouth. Your father’s death was a regrettable accident. If he had listened to reason, as my friend Diego Luca has, he’d probably still be with us – albeit much richer,” Frank said.

“He didn’t want to give you the Scroll, so you killed him,” she snarled.

“Your father was a fool. An idealistic fool. He felt that the Scroll should remain hidden forever. If he had listened to reason he would have discovered that I, too, feel it should – if the price is right. And for the Church, no price is too high. So we both were after the same end result. He simply didn’t pay attention. A shame. An endearing and brilliant man, but with that fatal foolish flaw…and nothing like as nimble as our hero here, Dr. Steven Cross, hmm?” Frank declared, shifting his attention to Steven.

“How much are you getting out of this?” Steven directed the question at Luca, ignoring Frank for the moment.

“More than enough,” Luca replied.

“Oh, don’t be shy, my friend,” Frank said. “It wouldn’t do to appear as though you’re cheap. You’re anything but. The number is one hundred million dollars, young man. As gratitude for a career well served.”

Steven whistled. “That’s the price of a soul these days? I would have sold mine a long time ago if I’d had any idea you could get that kind of money for one.”

Frank laughed – a genuine exclamation of amusement. “Well said. You are a charmer, aren’t you? But the number is of no consequence. Money is just a symbol, as are most things. As is this simple crown. Yet many would kill over it, or the few simple words on the tablet. Wars have been fought over the man whose skeleton lies on this cold stone floor – to defend the faith and the honor of his church. In the end, everything is a symbol. A hundred million is fitting tribute for a man with the courage to help bring this plan to fruition.” Frank’s words dripped with self-importance.

“Why do I think that your number must be far higher?” Steven asked.

“Oh, you’ve seen through me. Very perceptive. Yes, I am already of secure means, so it takes a larger amount to ensure my cooperation. A much larger amount. But in the end, that too is just a symbol. Although I can’t say it is of no consequence because it clearly is. My number is a hundred times greater, and yet the Church can cut a check for it out of their petty cash. I’m not greedy. I could have demanded more.” Frank shrugged. “I believe, however, in being reasonable.”

“But why? You’re already rich. A billionaire, right? Why do all this?” Natalie asked.

“
Because it is there
. Because I can. Because even a man with one billion wants ten. Just as I’m sure that a man with ten will want a hundred. But baby steps. You can’t make it all in one day. I’m a patient man.” Frank’s smile was blood-chilling.

Luca cleared his throat. “Can you keep your eye on these two? I want to take a closer look at…at the remains. This is a once in a lifetime chance.”

“Of course, my good man, of course. Take as much time as you like. It’s not as though I’m in any rush to get back out into that brutal sun,” Frank said, waving nonchalantly with his gun. “You people are really something for enduring that hellish furnace for all these days. I was staying at a top-shelf private resort on the Dead Sea, taking the cure and relaxing this entire time. I couldn’t have lived in a tent in this oven, I can assure you. Although my colleague Sia Amieri is more than familiar with this weather.” Frank made a head gesture towards the big man.

“He talks a lot, doesn’t he?” Steven said.

“Yes, he’s quite gregarious, as you’ve noticed.” Frank nodded at Amieri, who moved closer to the skeleton chamber, eyeing Moody’s inert body with a casual interest. “Amieri is a man of rare talents and appetites, Dr. Cross. As I’m sure young Natalie will discover before the day is out. But it isn’t his fault. He’s a victim of society.” Frank chuckled to himself. “We all have our crosses to bear.”

Luca moved into the crypt and approached the skeleton, pointing his gun at Steven and Natalie as he did so. Steven registered a faint movement at the periphery of his vision in the depths of the darkness. The light was so faint it was hard to tell what was real and what was imaginary in the cave.

Luca reached the skeleton, and Steven could see that he had tears in his eyes. For all his faults and weaknesses, he was a believer, and this was the most important moment of his life. He extended a tentative hand to touch the ribcage, where several of the bones were shattered from the thrust of a Roman spear – possibly the very same one that leaned against the wall.

A hiss emanated from within the bones and a brown blur lashed from the sternum, striking Luca’s wrist, causing him to cry out and drop his pistol. Everyone froze for a split second, and then the cave exploded with action. As Natalie lunged for the gun, Amieri raced towards her, his eyes registering surprise and then shock as Steven drove the ancient spear through his chest. He staggered back towards Frank as if in slow motion, the wooden shaft sticking from him, moaning in a low keening voice that sounded nothing so much as a dog’s lamentation. Frank dispassionately registered his mortal wound and then fired a single muffled shot to his head, ending his misery as quickly as it began.

Amieri’s bulk dropped to the floor, clearing the line of fire between Natalie and Frank. She moved in a crouch and fired, the bullet searing his chest in a spray of blood. Frank simultaneously shot at Natalie, hitting her in the lower abdomen. She went down hard, dropping the weapon, and Steven raised his hands slowly as he backed away from the skeleton. A sinewy brown snake slithered from the ribcage up to the skull, where it wound its way through one of the eye sockets before exiting through the other, and then made its way into the nether recesses of the cave.

Frank clutched his chest with his left hand, the pistol still steady in his right. “You little bitch. You hit me. Fortunately it’s a flesh wound, as I surmise from the pain. Grazed my rib. You must be rusty from your Bureau days. I have a feeling I would have been a goner five years ago. Ah, well. Those are the breaks.” He squinted at Natalie writhing on the ground, clawing at her abdomen in agony. “I understand stomach wounds are the worst – they can take hours to kill you and are extremely painful. Out here in God’s country, there’s no way to save you, which I’m sure young Steven has already realized. Judging by the look in his eyes, you’ve captured his heart in addition to his passions, so it will do me a world of good to know that among his last visions will be you dying a slow death of unspeakable suffering.” Frank shifted his view to Steven. “It was nice meeting you, Dr. Cross. A pity we couldn’t have crossed swords on a more civilized field. But one plays the cards one’s dealt, no?” Frank raised the gun a few inches, drawing a bead on Steven’s heart.

Steven’s gaze scoured the floor, but he didn’t see Luca’s gun. Sensing Frank preparing to fire, time compressed as his mind raced for a way out. But there was nowhere to hide, no place to duck behind or dodge to. He inched towards Natalie, who was looking up at him through tears of pain, and when their eyes met he felt something in his chest move. If this was his time, so be it. He reached his hand down to touch her head with a trembling hand. “I’m sorry, my angel.”

Snapping back to the immediate, Steven’s muscles tensed as he prepared to make a final suicide charge at his would-be executioner, even though he knew it was futile.

He had to, if only for Natalie.

When the shot came, it didn’t hurt, which surprised him. Steven heard the distinctive muffled pop of the silenced weapon, even though his ears were still ringing from the concussion of Natalie’s gunshot, yet there was no pain. He waited to feel himself drift away or see the light at the end of a long dark tunnel, but nothing happened. After a second he registered movement from in front of him. It was Frank, his chest a mass of spreading blood, sinking as if in slow motion, first to his knees, then to his side, his weapon dangling uselessly from his lifeless hand.

A shadow darkened the cave mouth, and then a figure moved into the cave, gun held at the ready. The newcomer nudged Frank with his toe and then moved to Amieri to do the same. Satisfied that both men were dead, he lowered his weapon and addressed Steven.