The Voynich Cypher (27 page)

“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.

“Moody. Give me some good news.” Natalie cut to the chase in typical fashion, the pay phone held against her ear.

“We need to meet, but not at the hotel. I haven’t been able to get hold of Danny, so I’m assuming the worst. Are you nearby?” Moody asked.

“Yes. Pick a spot and tell me when. We’ll be there,” Natalie said.

“The Arch of Constantine, by the Coliseum. Twenty minutes?”

“See you then.”

It was just after midnight when they arrived, but there were still groups of tourists taking photos in front of the famous illuminated marble arch, memorializing for posterity that they had been there, in the shadow of greatness. Steven shifted his bag from his left shoulder to his right and tried not to check his watch every two minutes. After what seemed like an eternity, Natalie nudged him with her elbow. A tall, ruggedly handsome man with closely-cropped silver hair moved cautiously towards them, his shoulders squared with a military bearing. Natalie gave him a big hug, which he accepted with a slightly embarrassed look, and then turned his attention to Steven. Steven extended his hand.

“You must be Moody. I’m Steven.”

“A pleasure. Mind if we walk while we chat?” Moody said, clearly not asking.

“Love to,” Steven responded.

Natalie hefted her bag, and Moody took it from her, lifting it with ease. They strolled unhurriedly away from the Coliseum, its ancient presence hulking in the background. Moody reached into his jacket pocket and handed Natalie two phones.

“Merry Christmas. Those are clean,” Moody assured them. “I did some checking. The police interest in you is increasing, and I don’t think I’d wait for it to escalate. We have a safe house in Mestre, just across the lagoon from Venice, I can make available until things cool down. There’s no countrywide alert, and nothing’s gone to Interpol yet, but there’s no telling how this plays over the next few days. Now, would you mind telling me exactly what you’re into here, so I can get a better handle on it?”

Natalie glanced at Steven and then gave Moody a summary, omitting only that they were close to solving the puzzle of the Voynich. Steven and Natalie had discussed how much disclosure to make, and they’d agreed that if Steven had a positive reaction to him, they’d give Moody all the data. The jury was still out, so Natalie kept to their agreement.

“Hmm. A centuries old secret sect of the Catholic Church is after you because of a document your father came into possession of, through questionable means, the ‘liberation’ of which was financed by a billionaire who will stop at nothing to beat them to the punch. Is that about right?” Moody asked dryly.

Natalie frowned. “Put that way, it sounds crazy, but let’s not forget someone killed Frederick, and Danny’s gone missing – and there were a couple of goons waiting for us this evening. Plus, we were followed in Florence and only got away because Steven took one of the pursuers out,” Natalie reminded him.

Moody studied Steven’s profile as they continued their walk.

“You’re quite resourceful. What’s your background?” Moody asked Steven.

“I’m an entrepreneur and amateur cryptologist. But I’ve been doing martial arts for years, so I’m pretty handy when it comes to close quarter self-defense.”

“I’ll say. Any military service?”

“A few years. Wasn’t for me,” Steven said, wanting to end the inquiry there.

“What do you make of this situation?” Moody pressed.

Steven stopped and turned to him. “I thought Natalie was nuts when she first came to me. Then I had a chance to look over the parchment, and it was as she described. Before long, we were being chased. That’s more data in her favor. But seeing Frederick stabbed to death outside of the church was the clincher. We’ve stumbled onto something very important to the groups Natalie is convinced are involved, and they’ll do anything to recover their treasure and protect their secret. Whether or not it’s worth killing for doesn’t matter if they believe it is,” Steven said.

Moody nodded slowly. “I’ve known her for a while, and I trust Natalie’s instinct on this.” Moody turned to her. “Get out of Rome now. You’ll be safe in Mestre, and if you need to travel, you’ve got plenty of choices. Between Venice and Milan, there are flights anywhere in the world. I’d say, drive to Mestre before the cops start paying real attention, and we’ll figure it out from there. Make sense?”

“Perfect sense, as always,” Natalie said deferentially. “Might be easier if we had a car, though.”

Moody handed her an envelope. “Inside are directions and an address for the house, a key, and the valet stub for a black Alfa Romeo at my hotel. Wait half an hour before picking it up. It’s got a full tank of gas, and all the paperwork’s in the glove compartment. Registered to a corporation in Genoa.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to stick around Rome for a day or two and see if I can figure out what happened to Danny. Then I’ll meet up with you in Venice. I’ll call before I show up on the doorstep. If you drive fairly fast, you should be able to make it in seven hours.”

“Thank you so much, Moody. You’re a lifesaver,” Natalie said.

“You’d do the same for me, so no sweat.” He looked morose. “I hope you’re wrong about what you’re up against. Last time I checked, the Church swings a lot of weight, especially in Italy. Although I find it hard to believe they’d resort to murder…”

“That was probably Frank’s people. I have no doubt he killed my father. He’s got a reputation as a ruthless and mercurial businessman. Towards the end, my father wanted less and less to do with him,” Natalie explained.

“No point in belaboring it. I’ll see what I can find out. You two drive safely, and we can touch base once you’re at the safe house,” Moody said, glancing around casually to ensure they weren’t under surveillance. He handed her back her bag.

“Nice meeting you,” Steven said, trying for enthusiasm.