Secret Breakers: The Power of Three (24 page)

‘You really think MS 408 spoke of a different world and Van der Essen knew how to read it?’

‘I really do.’

‘Don’t you mind if people think you’re mad?’

‘Sometimes.’

Brodie frowned. ‘I think Smithies believes in you,’ she said quietly.

Friedman didn’t answer.

Brodie reached forward and closed the lid of the box. ‘We’ve got to find the others. Let them know what happened.’

‘What will you say?’

‘That it’s over.’

‘You really believe that?’

Brodie lifted the box in her hand. ‘It’s empty. What else can I think?’

Friedman stood up. ‘Your mother would’ve loved these dragons,’ he said, looking again around the room.

Brodie wasn’t sure if it made her sadder to know something about her mother she didn’t know or if it made her a little happier. ‘What would she like about them?’

‘The stories,’ he said. ‘She was always writing up stories about dragons. And of course she loved the stories of Arthur. The real Pendragon. A story of a child. A child very much like you. Alone. Separated from his parents and raised by another.’

Brodie’s heart beat against the casing of the box held tight against her chest.

‘A child who, despite all the odds, would become a mighty ruler.’ He hesitated. ‘You know, I don’t think we should give up on MS 408, Brodie.’

‘But it’s all a dead end.’

His eyes twinkled. ‘Things aren’t always what they seem,’ he said.

Brodie looked down at the ground and the noble dragon at her feet.

‘It seems this room has doors on only one side. We know otherwise. We’ll find an answer, Brodie, if we can just be determined enough to keep looking.’ He moved across the room to where, disguised by the painted pattern on the wall, there was an opening. A doorway to a tunnel.

Brodie followed. The door hung open for a moment as she stumbled over the threshold. The light from the Music Room pooled inside.

There was a flight of spiral stairs. The air was cold. Slowly, and without a sound, the secret door swung closed behind them, driving out the light.

The darkness was complete; all-consuming. It took the breath from Brodie’s lungs.

There was a scratching sound; a match struck against the stone of the walls and then a spark of light stretching like a cloud. Friedman took one of the candles set in the wall and lit it. He held it in his hand so his face was ringed in a warm golden glow. Then he led her out of the secret tunnel and on into the fading light of evening.

The Director sat with his back to the door. He held a pencil in his hand, twisting it between his fingers like a miniature baton. ‘You’re telling me there was nothing.’

Kerrith eased the line of her red jumper across her hips. ‘Nothing, sir.’

‘Just ash?’

‘Ash, sir.’

The Director stilled the pencil between his fingers. ‘Seems we were successful then, back in the seventies. We had a lead that documents relating to MS 408 were hidden at the Pavilion. It’s a shame. The Music Room took thousands of pounds to restore after we destroyed it. I seem to remember they spent years hand-knotting the replacement carpet. No matter. If our job was done.’

Kerrith looked appreciative.

The Director tapped the arm of his chair with the pencil. ‘So. Van der Essen’s gift is useless, and for that we must be grateful. You’ve done well, Vernan. Very well.’

Kerrith shuffled her feet.

‘However,’ the Director added, spinning round his chair so he could face her. ‘This ridiculous set-up at Station X is a worry to me. Smithies has always been a loose cannon, and his past association with Friedman always a source of annoyance to me. You’ve got to admire Smithies’ style really, setting up under our very noses.’ He tapped his teeth with the pencil. ‘But no one takes me or this department for a fool, Vernan. No one.’

Kerrith shook her head in a way she hoped showed full agreement.

‘The lead they had about MS 408 may’ve come to nothing but their interest in the document shouldn’t be overlooked. We have a duty to uphold here. Rules to keep. Any work on MS 408 is prohibited.’

‘You think they’ll keep looking for answers, sir?’ Kerrith offered quietly.

‘Oh, they’ll try, Vernan. That’s how it gets, isn’t it? Compulsive. Addictive. The search for the missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle, the final letters needed for the crossword. Now they’ve started they’ll be driven to find out more. They’ll look for other leads, seek out other sources. Our job here is to prevent them.’

‘Sir?’

The Director laughed. ‘My dear Kerrith. There’s so much you need to learn. So much you’ve yet to see, about Level Five and its ultimate aim.’

‘Yes, sir. I was wondering. If you could tell me about the stamp across the copies of MS 408. The mark of “the Suppressors”. Who are they? What do they do?’

‘All in good time, Miss Vernan. All you need to know for now is that we’ll stop Smithies and his team of code-crackers. They must be prevented from looking deeper. Must give up their quest and leave MS 408 well alone.’

‘And how will we do that, sir?’

The Director took the pencil between his fingers and snapped it in half.

Back at Bletchley railway station, Ingham was waiting for them. It was rather unfortunate that because there were five of them, they couldn’t fit into an ordinary car. The journey back to Station X in the back of the World War Two land assault vehicle was not the most comfortable of rides. Brodie gave up checking the time of the journey on either of her watches. The bumping around made her feel travel-sick. She closed her eyes and longed to be back at the mansion.

Smithies called a meeting in the ballroom.

Tusia left her books and files on the end of her bed. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll be making notes,’ she said gloomily.

Hunter met them by the water fountain. He didn’t even attempt to avoid the spurting jet. ‘I’ll sort of miss it,’ he said as they turned and walked towards the mansion. ‘I was more than seventy-six per cent used to
that
discomfort,’ he added, hobbling awkwardly on his heavily strapped ankle.

The room was organised as it’d been on that very first night. The chairs in an oval and at one side a table where Smithies, Ingham and Miss Tandari sat. This time their faces were grave instead of welcoming. Disappointed maybe. Brodie swallowed. The guilt of failure bubbled in her throat. She thought for a moment Ingham was trying to catch her eye but she was too embarrassed to look up. He’d trusted them to come back with the code-book and they’d returned empty-handed.

After a moment Brodie felt enough courage to lift her head. She realised Smithies was talking and she tried hard to focus on his words despite the confusion. ‘We must admit defeat when we see it.’ He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose as if the vision through them was at the moment a little hazy. ‘We fought an excellent fight! We solved a puzzle that would’ve stretched the best minds in the land and we should feel no shame about that. We just have to accept our phoenix wasn’t intended to fly. Our Firebird Code led us simply to her ashes.’ He paused. ‘Like an English football team in a World Cup qualifier, I’m afraid we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. And yet,’ he tried to pull himself up taller but Brodie noticed his shoulders were stooped as if he carried a heavy weight on his back, ‘we did all we could. I really thought we’d find the answers. That after all these years we’d finally be able to read the secrets of Voynich’s mysterious book. Now,’ he sighed. ‘Now we must accept we’ll never know the story its pages hold. The pictures of the plants and animals, the islands and the people, will never really get to share their truth with us. I’m so very sorry.’

His voice cracked a little. He whispered something into Miss Tandari’s ear.

‘We should acknowledge too,’ he continued, ‘that the authorities are on to our quest. So the procedure will be as follows. Miss Tandari will spend the week bringing you up to speed on general curriculum work but as of today your work on code-cracking is at an end.’ He pulled himself up taller and straightened his rather crumpled tie with the flat of his hand. ‘Arrangements will be made with your previous schools to readmit you.

‘Plans will be made for you to leave this Black Chamber on Friday. Your families will be notified and as of Saturday your life will return to normality.’ He glanced down at notes he had on the table, and once more adjusted his glasses. ‘It’s been a privilege to spend time with such an excellent crop of young brains,’ he said, ‘and we must remember, despite the sad demise of our operation, Van der Essen’s Firebird Code
was
broken and the message read. Take comfort in that. We just didn’t arrive in time to see the phoenix fly.’

Brodie looked down at the ground. She wondered if the final words were really for them or him. When she looked up again, everyone at the long table was standing. Smithies leant his weight against the table. Brodie thought suddenly of her granddad and a tear slipped down her cheek.

‘I’m duty-bound to say this is the most unusual of requests, Mr Bray.’

Brodie’s grandfather sat nervously in his chair, his scooter helmet resting precariously in his lap. ‘And I must say that as my solicitor, your job is merely to tell me if what I suggest is workable and not to offer opinion on the wisdom behind the act.’

Mr Baxter of Pout, Hackett and Gurr LLP winced visibly and lowered his gaze to the desk. ‘It’s just it’s an awfully large amount of money, Mr Bray.’

‘And you think at my age in life I should stick to usual?’

‘No, sir. Not at all. Not at all.’

‘Good.’ Mr Bray grasped his bicycle clips which balanced on the arm of the chair. ‘So. Is what I’ve suggested possible?’

‘Oh, absolutely possible, sir.’

‘And there’s no loopholes you can see regarding the education of the children or the purchase of the properties?’

‘No, sir. I’ve checked the land registry and the huts of the building can be sold separately so what you’re suggesting is perfectly legitimate. And as regards the education constraints, this Mr Smithies you mentioned seems to have covered every base. We have no worries there.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘And my dealing with the US branch suggests Mr Fabyan III of Riverbanks Labs is more than happy to cover the shortfall in costs and act as guarantor.’

‘So there’s nothing left to discuss, then?’

‘Well, no, sir. If you’re entirely sure this is the way you wish to proceed.’

Mr Bray took the pen Mr Baxter offered. ‘Where do I sign?’ he said.

‘Come on,’ said Tusia. ‘Let’s go and start packing.’

The three of them made their way to Hut 8. With only days to go they made no attempt to hide Hunter. What could possibly happen if they broke the rules now? They could hardly be chucked out.

Hunter sat on the end of the bed unwrapping a rather squashed Curly Wurly left over from their night-time solving session. It seemed to Brodie to be a lifetime ago. Another world altogether.

‘Suppose I should put this room back the way it was,’ said Tusia, shaking her head vigorously at the offer of a bite of the crumbled chocolate.

Brodie nodded.

‘Great. You can move that ruddy chest of drawers back where it was, Toots. I hurt my toe every time I come in here and surely I’m injured enough without being attacked by your furniture,’ muttered Hunter. ‘I’m not invincible, you know.’

Tusia paused. ‘Well, I’ll have to wait until one of you can help me lift the thing. I can’t do it on my own.’

Brodie swallowed a mouthful of chocolate. She eased herself down gently into the chair beside the door, wincing with the pain in her arm.

Tusia had just begun to repeat the statement in a high singsongy voice when Brodie stood up.

‘You all right, BB?’ Hunter said, ceasing his chewing with a look of concern. ‘You don’t look too good.’

Brodie pushed her hands against her lips and began to breathe quickly in and out.

‘You’re not having a panic attack, are you? Because they really are my speciality.’

Brodie was pacing backwards and forwards by the window.

‘OK, BB. Any time you want to explain what’s going on would be great because your rather odd behaviour reflects the actions of the two per cent of the population who are registered as clinically insane.’

‘I think we’re missing something.’

Hunter soothed his injured leg gently with his hand. ‘True, BB. We’re missing lots of things. Like a home now, and a purpose and something to work on.’

‘No! I mean about the phoenix. It doesn’t make sense, does it? To hide a box of ash and go to all the bother of writing a code to protect it.’

‘But he didn’t hide a box of ash, did he? Van der Essen put the code-book in the box and the fire in the

Pavilion in 1975 just burnt what was inside. Smithies went over that.’

‘But the box wasn’t in the Music Room, was it? That’s where the fire was.’

‘Maybe someone just hid the box in that attic after the fire.’

‘But why? What’s the point? Hiding the box if you know what’s inside is ruined.’

‘But your version sees Van der Essen hiding the box of ash himself and that’s even more nutty.’ Tusia was obviously struggling to keep up with Brodie’s train of thought.