In Tongues of the Dead (23 page)

Jake walked faster. “Yep.”

“What brings you over here?”

“Just going to do a few things at the university,” Jake said.

“That's my church,” Harold announced, and pointed at Saint Andrew's.

“That's great.” Jake maintained his furious pace.

“Well, it's not actually
my
church, but God wants me to be there,” Harold said. “I don't know why yet but I feel a tremendous sense of comfort when I'm there. I know it's what God wants.”

“Well, don't let me keep you. You don't want to piss God off.”

Harold laughed. “You pretend your heart is cold but I know better, Dr. Tunnel. God doesn't get pissed off. You know that. Or you would know that if you'd open your heart and listen. You need to open up before it's too late. God is speaking to you all the time. Like me being at the church. I don't know why God wants me there, but I go there and I wander around, just kind of exploring. That old church is full of secrets, rooms hidden in obscure corners, and hideaways in the attics. Take the basement, for example — it's a labyrinth of tunnels.”

Jake stopped walking and turned to the older man. “Harold, we have an appointment next week. I really need to just get a few things done right now, okay? I don't mean to be rude but I've got a lot on my mind.”

Harold smiled. “I won't keep you, Dr. Tunnel. You get going. I'm heading back to the church.”

Jake kept walking. Once he was in the Killam Memorial Library, he moved quickly through the main room to a door in the back. There was an information desk just outside the door; Jake smiled at the librarian and swiped his faculty id card over the electronic lock pad. There was a click, and he pulled the door open into a computer lab reserved for faculty. There were ten terminals, all of them empty.

He chose a computer, slung his jacket on the back of the chair and logged in. A message flashed on that he had 234 new emails. He laughed, clicked on the icon for the Internet browser, and went to Google. He typed in
Voynich
.

What flashed onto the screen surprised him.

Google reported that there were more than four hundred
thousand hits. And he'd been thinking he'd have to dig to find even one reference.

Nope.

Not only did he not have to dig but there were entire websites devoted to the Voynich. It was a massive topic.

Jake knew that quantity of information did not indicate credibility or depth of research. But still.

At the top of the listings he saw a few newspaper articles. He scanned the headlines Google provided but didn't go to the sites. The headlines told him the Voynich had been stolen four days ago and the police had no leads.

A few things became obvious from a quick scan of the Google listings. The words “mystery,” “baffle,” and “riddle” showed up over and over; the book was a genuine puzzle. And Jake kept seeing another word: “hoax.”

The Beinecke Library was mentioned frequently, and Jake typed “Beinecke” into Google, found the Beinecke's search engine, and keyed in “Voynich.” The book was stored as manuscript number 408, and the website described it:

Cipher Manuscript

Central Europe [?], s. xv^^ex-xvi[?]

Scientific or magical text in an unidentified language, in cipher, apparently based on Roman minuscule characters; the text is believed by some scholars to be the work of Roger Bacon since the themes of the illustrations seem to represent topics known to have interested Bacon (see also Provenance below). A history of the numerous attempts to decipher the manuscript can be found in a volume edited by R.S. Brumbaugh,
The Most Mysterious Manuscript: The Voynich “Roger Bacon” Cipher Manuscript
(Carbondale, Southern Illinois University Press, 1978). Although several scholars have claimed decipherments of the manuscript, for the most part the text remains an unsolved puzzle. R.S. Brumbaugh has, however, suggested a decipherment that
establishes readings for the star names and plant labels; see his “Botany and the Voynich ‘Roger Bacon' Manuscript Once More,”
Speculum
49 (1974) pp. 546–48; “The Solution of the Voynich ‘Roger Bacon' Cipher,”
Gazette
49 (1975) pp. 347–55; and “The Voynich ‘Roger Bacon' Cipher Manuscript: Deciphered Maps of Stars,”
Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes
39 (1976) pp. 139–50. Almost every page contains botanical and scientific drawings, many full-page, of a provincial but lively character, in ink with washes in various shades of green, brown, yellow, blue, and red. Based on the subject matter of the drawings, the contents of the manuscript fall into six sections: Part i: Botanical sections containing drawings of 113 unidentified plant species. Special care is taken in the representation of the flowers, leaves, and the root systems of the individual plants. Drawings accompanied by text. Part ii: Astronomical or astrological section containing 25 astral diagrams in the form of circles, concentric or with radiating segments, some with the sun or the moon in the center; the segments filled with stars and inscriptions, some with the signs of the zodiac and concentric circles of nude females, some free-standing, others emerging from objects similar to cans or tubes. Little continuous text. Part iii: Biological section containing drawings of small-scale female nudes, most with bulging abdomens and exaggerated hips, immersed in or emerging from fluids, or interconnecting tubes and capsules. These drawings are the most enigmatic in the manuscript and it has been suggested that they symbolically represent the process of human reproduction and the procedure by which the soul becomes united with the body. Part iv: This sextuple-folio folding leaf contains an elaborate array of nine medallions, filled with stars and cell-like shapes, with fibrous structures linking the circles. Some medallions with petal-like arrangements of rays filled with stars, some with structures
resembling bundles of pipes. Part v: Pharmaceutical section containing drawings of over 100 different species of medicinal herbs and roots, all with identifying inscriptions. On almost every page drawings of pharmaceutical jars, resembling vases, in red, green and yellow, or blue and green. Accompanied by some continuous text. Part vi: Continuous text, with stars in inner margin on recto and outer margins of verso.

Written in Central Europe [?] at the end of the 15th or during the 16th [?] century; the origin and date of the manuscript are still being debated as vigorously as are its puzzling drawings and undeciphered text. The identification of several of the plants as New World specimens brought back to Europe by Columbus indicates that the manuscript could not have been written before 1493. The codex belonged to Emperor Rudolph II of Germany (Holy Roman Emperor, 1576–1612), who purchased it for 600 gold ducats and believed that it was the work of Roger Bacon. It is very likely that Emperor Rudolph acquired the manuscript from the English astrologer John Dee (1527–1608) whose foliation remains in the upper right corner of each leaf (we thank A.G. Watson for confirming this identification through a comparison of the Arabic numerals in the Voynich manuscript with those of John Dee in Oxford, Bodleian Library Ashmole 1790, f. 9v, and Ashmole 487). Dee apparently owned the manuscript along with a number of other Roger Bacon manuscripts; he was in Prague 1582–86 and was in contact with Emperor Rudolph during this period. In addition, Dee stated that he had 630 ducats in October 1586, and his son Arthur (cited by Sir T. Browne, Works, G. Keynes, ed. [1931] v. 6, p. 325) noted that Dee, while in Bohemia, owned “a booke … containing nothing butt Hieroglyphicks, which booke his father bestowed much time upon: but I could not heare that hee could make it out.” Emperor Rudolph seems to
have given the manuscript to Jacobus Horcicky de Tepenecz (d. 1622); inscription on f. 1r “Jacobi de Tepenecz” (erased but visible under ultraviolet light). Johannes Marcus Marci of Cronland presented the book to Athanasius Kircher, S.J. (1601–80) in 1666. Acquired by Wilfred M. Voynich in 1912 from the Jesuit College at Frascati near Rome. Given to the Beinecke Library in 1969 by H.P. Kraus (Cat. 100, pp. 42–44, no. 20) who had purchased it from the estate of Ethel Voynich.

Jake stretched and yawned. He couldn't imagine why the church would be interested in this particular old book. Despite what Ben had told him, it sounded as if the book wasn't even religious.

He left the Beinecke website, returned to Google, and noticed a site that offered photographs of each and every page of the book. He took a quick peek at some of the pages. The library's description had been accurate: the manuscript was littered with odd drawings of plants, obscure star systems, chubby women, and veins and arteries.

He went back to Google and typed “Voynich mystery.” A list of sites popped up, and in one listing Jake noticed the word “Necronomicon.” That sounded familiar.

He clicked on the listing and a site about witchcraft and magic appeared on the computer screen. Jake remembered where he'd heard about the Necronomicon. About five years ago he'd had a teenage client, Ryan, who was interested in demon worship; he dressed in black, dyed his hair black, and walked around moody and dark all the time. He'd been sinking deeper and deeper into the underground occult scene — Satan worship and black witchcraft. His parents were afraid he was getting himself into something unhealthy, and sent him to Jake. He only saw Ryan two or three times, but he remembered the teenager talking about the Necronomicon and how it was supposed to have been written by Satan — or was it about Satan?

Jake skimmed the website and found the reference to the Voynich:

Many scholars suspect that the Voynich is the only authentic Necronomicon left in circulation. There is no doubt that one of the original owners of the manuscript, Emperor Rudolph II of Germany, was incredibly superstitious and searched the world for unusual and bizarre finds. His official court was full of dwarfs, giants, and sorcerers of every description. Additionally, there is evidence that the Emperor sent numerous envoys to the Middle East in search of the Necronomicon (the original version of the book having been allegedly written in ad 700).

In order to maintain the integrity and safety of the Necronomicon, the Voynich version was written in a language that could only be interpreted with the correct cipher. The power of the Necronomicon meant that it could never be allowed into general circulation, and every version, other than the Voynich, was destroyed.

It is unclear whether the drawings represent important aspects of the Necronomicon content or perhaps a distraction for the uninitiated. Additionally, references to Sir Roger Bacon in the construction of the Necronomicon are not entirely without merit in this interpretation. Sir Roger was intimately involved in the translation of many religious documents and is widely credited with the introduction of the English version of the Bible (the exact details of which are not without their own mystery and controversy). In any event, one thing that has not been conclusively determined is whether the Necronomicon is a Satanic book of spells (as many naïve occult groups vocally espouse) or some darker version of the Bible. If the latter were the case it would certainly be plausible that Sir Roger
would take care in crafting a version of the Necronomicon that could be concealed from the general public.

Jake whistled. It was beginning to look as if there really was a mystery. He clicked back to Google, typed “Necronomicon,” and hit
Enter
. No results. He hit
Enter
again.

Still nothing.

He moved the mouse in a little circle. The cursor didn't move. “Damn,” he muttered.

He tapped a few keys. No response. “Hell.” He pressed
Control + Alt + Delete
.

Nothing.

He wondered if he could log onto another computer while he was still logged into this one. Or maybe he could find a reset button. There was a little red circle next to the power button. He pressed it.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Jake turned his head. A man in a red windbreaker and khaki pants stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Yes?”

“We're having some technical difficulties with the system and I need to ask you to leave.”

Jake frowned.
That's oddly worded
. “You have to ask me to leave? Why?”

The man shifted again. “It's going to take a while and, um, we need to have access to —”

Jake said, “You don't need every computer. What's going on here?” He was slightly surprised by his abrasive manner but he realized that the stress of all the recent events, including Wyatt, had left him feeling fairly raw.

The man was obviously nervous, as though he'd anticipated resistance. “I really can't get into it. You'd have to talk to my supervisor. I don't know what's going on between you and the university.”

Jake stood abruptly. “What are you talking about?”
Me and the university
?

The
IT
guy took a step back even though Jake was still nowhere near him. He held up his hands in acquiescence. “I was told to monitor the Internet for certain search topics, and you went to some of them.”

“What topics? You mean like Voynich?”

“Yes.”

“What else?”

“Well, um, that necro thing. Necrophiliac, um, and —”

“Forget that. What topics were you watching for that I
didn't
get to?”

The guy looked genuinely confused. “What?”

“You were watching for specific search terms. What's on the list that I didn't look for?”

“I don't think —”

In a few strides Jake was right in front of the it guy. “Just tell me, and then I'll go.”

The
IT
man was sweating. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “I don't know. I think we were also scanning for book of the dead and nephi-something. It all sounds like gobbledygook to me.”

Jake figured the technician had told him as much as he could. He pulled his jacket off the back of the chair.