Encrypted (46 page)

Francois gripped the painting’s frame
,
seeming
ly
unable to let go even as he nodded. Ronnie stepped in
,
and at first gently,
and
then with more and more torque, pulled the painting away from Francois. Zach bet the old man had some splinters under his nails.

Taking in a deep breath, not believing out of a day of completely unbelievable events
,
that he was about to set
fire
to a Picasso. Zach glanced overhead. The fire alarm had been disabled
—
not that it had batteries in the first place.

Zach flicked the lighter
,
watching the tiny flame dance above the metal. He shook the hair spray, more to give himself time to work up the nerve than the bottle needed shaking.

Ronnie gave a tight, not-quite-reassuring smile. Zach hit the nozzle, spraying fire before him. He took a step closer to the painting
,
watching the heat beat from the flame towar
d
the canvas. He took another step. Now the flames licked the paint, melting it. Zach took care to only torch the portion of the painting already singed
,
trying to build up the nerve to put flame to the remaining masterpiece. Then the rest of the canvas caught fire, curling and crackling.

In for a penny, in for a pound, right? Zach stepped even closer
,
bringing the full flame to the painting. An already oddly placed eye melted into an elbow, blurring the image. Then the entire picture caught fire, consuming itself within moments. Only at the end
,
as the flames converged on the center of the painting did something gold flicker.

As the canvas went up in smoke, the gilded symbol grew brighter and brighter, pulsing of its own accord, floating before them, flaring a warning across the ages. Zach’s thumb stung from the heat of the lighter, but he kept the torch to bear.

If angels did exist and they wanted to speak, this was definitely how they would.

Then the symbol burned nearly white as it exploded
in
ash.

No one moved. No one even breathed.

“Holy Batman’s undergarments,” Quirk finally commented.

Snapping back, Zach released the nozzle and the lighter. The room felt too still without the
whoosh
of the fire. He sought Ronnie’s gaze
,
except she seemed to be having a religious experience herself. Zach felt moved
,
and he didn’t even understand what in the hell the symbol even meant.

Ronnie met his gaze. Her eyes were half-
closed,
as if she’d just been roused from slumber but was not yet awake. He’d never thought
that
any woman could look so beautiful. Then, she blurted out, “Crap!”

* * *

Ronnie looked
through
her phone.
Please, please, please let
me
have snapped a picture
,
she thought
. Maybe somewhere in that tra
n
celike state
,
she had actually captured the symbol
s
that
they were so desperate to find. But the last photo that showed up was the screenshot of Zach. Um, maybe since he was standing right next to her
,
she might want to delete that one.

“I didn’t get a picture of it,” she moaned. She could see it in her mind’s eye
,
but it wasn’t one she recognized. Could she remember all of the details for proper analysis?

“Oh
,
please,” Quirk said, turning his smartphone
toward
her. Footage of the entire event replayed. “And
,
as a bonus
,
I know have
on film
that you can’t survive in the wild without me.”

Ronnie could totally kiss her completely arrogant gay assistant right on the mouth. Fortunately
,
he didn’t expect that of her. She turned to Francois. At first she didn’t understand what he was doing. Then as realization hit, she rushed over, grabbing his hand.

“Francois! Don’t.”

But it was too late. He had already carved the symbol into his arm.

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” she chided, taking the edge of her shirt and blotting the blood.

“There is no ‘have,’
” he commented. “I
need
to.”

Ronnie didn’t get it, but she did. In her mind’s eye
,
the symbol glittered, sending off rays to the depths of her…well…soul.

“Um,” a baritone voice came from the other side of the room. “For the new guy, what in the hell just happened?”

Ronnie turned to find Quirk trying to shush the pilot, but Zach plopped down on the edge of the bed. “
Yeah
, for a guy
who
’s been on the inside of this…What in the hell just happened?”

She glanced
at
Francois
,
but he had retreated once again into his Latin mumblings. Look
ed
like she was going to have to wing
it alone on
this one. Ronnie turned the desk’s rickety chair around and sat facing the men. Crossing her arms over the back of the chair, she gave it her best effort
,
even though her own mind was still reeling.

“The symbol flaring out is probably the easiest to explain.”
From
Zach’s raised eyebrow
,
she hurried on. “Clearly
,
they must have impregnated the symbol into the canvas with a magnesium substrate. That’s what caused the brilliant light show.”

And what a light show it had been. She glanced
at
Francois
,
who either nodded or was simply rocking back and forth.

“But why?” Zach asked. “Why, with premeditation, hide a piece of angelic script in a painting?”

Excellent question. How could a modern art painting be connected to a reemergence of the Black Death? She needed to work all this out as much for herself as for the men
seeking
to understand.

“Everyone wants to keep secrets,” Ronnie explained. “From the Templars with their advanced symbology
,
to the U
.
S
.
using the Navajo language during World War II
,
we want our secrets
kept secret.”

It was her lifeblood
,
actually. Revealing secrets, burrowing into others’ deepest, most tightly held vaults. Usually
,
she was after cash. In this case
,
though
,
they had created an elaborate encryption to hold something so much more valuable. Information.

Quirk frowned
,
even though Ronnie knew how much he hated to encourage wrinkles. “But then why put such an important piece of secret script in such a prominent public image?”

Ronnie chuckled. “Have you ever lost your keys?”

“Excuse me?” Quirk countered
,
now arching his eyebrow.

“Not just you, but everyone. We forget things. We
lose
things. Now imagine an ancient organization trying to operate through the ages. Sure, they could hide their secrets
,
but then
they
risked losing them forever.”

“And we are talking about the Hidden Hand
,
then?” Zach asked.

Ronnie glanced
at
Francois
,
who shook his head absently. “No. I think the Hidden Hand uses angelic script, but the clues we are tracking down are from a resistance group within the Hidden Hand. Those
who
don’t agree with their goal.”

“The Hand within the Hand,” Francois whispered.

“Yes,” Ronnie agreed. “And I think they prepared for this day. When the Hidden Hand came out from the shadows. The resistance used the paintings as a fail
-
safe mechanism. So if the worst happened, someone like Francois could piece the puzzle back together.”

“In paintings, though?” Quirk pressed, although Ronnie didn’t blame him. If she hadn’t seen the symbol flare in all of its golden glory, Ronnie wouldn’t have believed it either.
“Seriously
,
people, let’s at least get them onto floppy drives.”

“Francois?” she asked gently
,
as the man mumbled in Latin. “Why did the Hand within the Hand choose
paintings
?

“It is the angels who cho
se it,” Francois
said. C
learly looking confused
, he asked
Ronnie
,
“Did they not tell you?”

Ronnie shook her head, “No.”

The guy really did believe that angels were talking to him. Which created a minor reality problem. Sure
, the symbols were angelic script, but a group of
men
decided on using the paintings for their safekeeping.

“Could it be the theory of hiding in plain sight?” Zach proposed.

“No,” Quirk answered flatly.

Uh
-oh. Her assistant wasn’t used to anyone but Ronnie disagreei
ng with him—not even a smoking-
hot FBI agent. However
,
Zach had no problem coming right back at Quirk.

“But I might suggest that the paintings
,
and therefore the symbols
,
have been doing just fine.
That they are still
available to us kind of proves my point.”

Good one. Not that she would admit that in front of Quirk. It would only rev the hacker up and make him start cr
iticizing Zach’s choice of hair-care products.

“
Maybe
the Hidden H
and chose paintings
because the arts are many times protected
,
even in times of upheaval?
” Ronnie suggested
,
trying to weave between Zach and Quirk.
“
Considered national treasures? That they out of any other vehicle might survive through the ag
es?”

“Of course,” Francois answered. “As I said, the
angels
know best.”

Ronnie wanted to press him
for a clearer answer
, but
the old man
went back to rocking
back and forth mumbling scripture
and
reading
the symbols carved into his arm. Clearly
,
he had kept meticulous records
—a
process that seemed to take as heavy a toll on his mind as
well as
his flesh.

“
Okay, I am going to take that as a ‘yes.’
”
Zach said as he leaned in. “Now
,
the question is
,
d
o we have any idea what you are decoding? What this information is?”

Ronnie bit her lip. She hated to speculate. She liked nice
,
long equations that took as much of the risk out of an endeavor as possible. “My best guess is
that
they are locations. What we will find in those locations, I’m not sure.”

“Well, luckily
,
you’ve got
my speedy texting fingers, and me
,” Quirk announced. H
owever
,
Ronnie was pretty sure the second half was for the pilot.

“What do you mean?”

Apparently just to show off, Quirk texted and explained at the same. “I’ve got a BFF at the CDC…”

Of course he did. A hypochondriac
at
Quirk’s level? The
man probably had a BFF at the Surgeon G
eneral’s office, the World Health Organization, and probably the
American
Cancer Society just to be sure to cover all his bases.

“And she says the CIA is looking for Hidden Hand vaccine vaults,” Quirk said
,
then jerked his head upright. “I like the sound of that.”

As did Ronnie. Now
,
some of the text was beginning to make sense. Talk of the nectar given by God and a prick to spare the ferryman.