The Lucifer Code (36 page)

‘Smooth or unfinished?’

‘Smooth.’

‘Any markings?’

‘I don’t see—wait. There’s a fish symbol here.’

‘Push against the ceiling,’ Lourds said. ‘That should be a door.’
Now if only it works.

Stone grated in the darkness and Lourds held his breath as he watched the approaching flashlight beams. They couldn’t be too far off now, but in the darkness it was hard to judge distance.

‘It’s a door!’ Olympia called back.

‘Go!’ Lourds said. ‘Hurry!’

One by one, they went, and the flashlight beams still crept up on them. Lourds was certain he wasn’t going to make it. He sat on his haunches and passed his backpack and hat up to Joachim. His heart gladdened at the realization that the next section of the escape route was larger than the first. Once the way was clear, he stood up through the narrow passage, gripped the edges, and hauled himself up with the aid of Joachim and another monk. They closed the door.

Light seeped round the edges from below. The men pursuing them gathered there. Lourds was certain they wouldn’t be stymied for long.

He glanced up at Joachim and whispered, ‘Do you know where we are?’

Joachim shook his head.

‘We need something to jam this door shut,’ Lourds said.

‘Will this do?’ Joachim pulled the crowbar that had caused all the commotion from under his jacket.

‘Just the thing,’ Lourds said. He took the crowbar and inserted one end into the mortise of the stone door and kicked it hard, wedging the heavy door shut.

‘That should slow them down,’ he said.

The hidden door had opened out against a wall at the end of the passageway. There was only one way to go.

Only a little farther on, the new passageway dead-ended as well. Olympia immediately searched the wall while everyone else searched the ceiling.

‘Here,’ Olympia said. She shone her flashlight on a fish symbol near the top of the dead end. ‘This has to be a door.’

Hammering and banging came from the other end of the passageway.

‘Permit me,’ Lourds suggested.

They made way for him and he went up to the door. He looked all over it but didn’t see any crevices or anything that gave any indication that the wall was indeed a door.

‘I’ve found something,’ Cleena said. She shone her light on a small square at eye level on the right-hand wall. ‘It looks like a picture; it was covered with dust.’ She brushed at the thick layers of grime to reveal the image.

‘It’s not a picture,’ Joachim said. ‘It’s a mosaic.’

Upon closer inspection, Lourds realized it was a mosaic. Created of tiny coloured stones, the image showed thirteen people seated at a table.

‘The Mystical Supper,’ Joachim said in awe.

‘I take it you haven’t been in this particular passageway before,’ Lourds said.

‘Never.’

‘It would have been really helpful if you had.’ Lourds pressed the mosaic but nothing happened. He trained his beam on the walls. ‘Check the walls. There has to be something else here.’ Then he stopped and went back to the mosaic. ‘The Mystical Supper is what it was called by Eastern Orthodox Christians. Paul was the first apostle to describe it.’

‘In 1 Corinthians 11:23–26,’ Joachim agreed.

‘Yes.’ Lourds knelt below the mosaic. ‘That supper provided a lot of material for legends and mythology. The jug used to serve the wine has been purported by some to be the Holy Grail, sought after by King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. It’s also supposed to be the beginning of the Eucharist, the sharing of Jesus’ blood and body.’

‘Yes, but what does that have to do with opening this door?’ Olympia asked.

Lourds smiled confidently. ‘In Orthodox churches, where do you expect to find a picture of the Mystical Supper?’

Joachim knelt beside him and began feeling the wall as well. ‘Above the Holy Doors.’

‘Yes. They’re also called the Royal Doors and the Beautiful Gates.’

Lourds trailed his fingers along the stone. A moment later, he felt a raised pattern. He shone his light on it and wiped at the accumulated dust. His efforts quickly revealed three more small mosaics. One was of a man with a nimbus around his head.

‘The sainted deacon,’ Lourds said. ‘Usually it’s Saint Stephen or Saint Lawrence or one of the others.’

The second mosaic presented an engraved door that looked as though it had been rendered in gold.

‘The Beautiful Gates,’ Joachim said. ‘That is the door Christ enters through.’

‘The Russian Orthodox call them the Red Gates,’ Lourds said. ‘But the meaning is relatively the same.’

A winged angel filled the third mosaic.

‘Archangel Michael?’ Joachim asked.

‘Or Gabriel,’ Lourds said. Then he shrugged. ‘Unless it’s another archangel.’

‘What does it mean?’ Cleena asked.

‘The Beautiful Gates,’ one of the monks said, ‘is a symbol of penitence that worshippers shouldn’t forget. It reminds them that sin separates man from God.’

‘The last thing we need right now is a lesson,’ Cleena said. ‘Unless we can find a quick way out of here, you’re about to be ungraciously ushered into the presence of the Almighty.’

‘Please don’t make light of God’s works,’ the monk said.

‘I think we’ve been presented with a way out,’ Lourds said. ‘The Mystical Supper is above the door. I’d wager my life on that.’

‘You’re going to,’ Olympia said.

‘Apparently we’re given three choices,’ Lourds went on, unperturbed. ‘As much as I’m willing to bet one of these mosaics opens the doors, I’m also willing to bet the other two may lock it for ever.’

‘Why?’ Joachim asked.

‘In order to protect whatever lies beyond.’

‘What do you think that is?’

‘Another clue to the location of the Joy Scroll.’ Lourds reached for the three mosaics.

Joachim grabbed his hand and stopped it. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Opening the door.’

‘You’ve got one chance in three.’

‘Not if you have faith and a little knowledge of the Church,’ Lourds said with a smile. ‘Which door would you pick?’

The hammering back at the jammed entrance took on a different timbre. Instead of trying to work out the puzzle logically, the men had decided to use brute force. The stone door wouldn’t stand up to much of that.

Joachim hesitated only a moment. ‘Two chances in three. The sainted deacon’s door or the angel door.’

‘Why?’ Lourds asked.

‘Because those are the doors used by the clergy.’ Joachim released Lourds’ hand.

Lourds pressed the mosaic picturing the sainted deacon. The mosaic sank into the stone a few inches, gliding effortlessly. Sharp clicks sounded within the stone wall as primitive tumblers fell into place.

A section of the wall slid back to reveal another passageway. Lourds took the lead and entered. Once everyone was inside the passageway, he tripped a lever and the wall section slid smoothly back into place.

Long moments later, Lourds found yet another door. This one held no puzzle and, when opened, revealed only a small cave. To the left, Lourds spotted an opening that showed the star-studded sky.

Less than a minute later, he was crouched at the mouth of a vine-covered cave looking down over the Hagia Sophia. Several police cars surrounded the church.

‘It’s nice to see that not all of that went unnoticed,’ Lourds said. ‘But I hate to think of all those books, all that knowledge, that may be lost now.’

‘The police may not know how to find the tunnel,’ Joachim said. ‘They may only be responding to the threat above ground.’

‘I hope so.’ Lourds removed his hat and squatted down to rest for a moment. The air in the cave was warmer than the dankness that had permeated the tunnels. He gazed round the cave. Numerous beer cans and second-hand camping paraphernalia revealed that the local teens favoured the cave as well.

‘Local Lovers’ Lane?’ Cleena asked.

‘One of the many,’ Olympia replied. ‘There are a number of caves round the city.’

‘I take it you have personal experience?’ Cleena said.

Olympia frowned at the other woman and started to say something.

‘Maybe we could concentrate on surviving tonight,’ Lourds interrupted. ‘Evidently there are a lot of people who know about the Joy Scroll and want it. Until we have our hands on it, it’s in danger of becoming lost to us.’

Without a word, Joachim took out the leather tube and handed it over to Lourds.

Lourds looked at the other man.

‘You saved us back there,’ Joachim said. ‘All of that, the Cave of the Elders, the passageways, all of that was new to you. My sister trusted you to find the Joy Scroll, even though she didn’t know what we were looking for. Now, after everything I’ve seen you do, I would be a fool—more than that, I would be remiss—if I didn’t show you the same trust.’

Lourds recognized the cost of Joachim’s concession. He took the scroll in his left hand and offered the monk his right. ‘This is what I do, Joachim. If there’s anyone better at this, I haven’t met them. If there’s a way to get an answer to this, I’ll get you an answer. I promise.’

CHAPTER

21

Central Business District

King Abdullah Economic City, Saudi Arabia

24 March 2010

W
ebster stood in the early morning darkness of the hotel high-rise and looked out across the city to the sea. Dawn was less than an hour away, but he knew the violence waiting to sweep over the land would arrive before the sun. He was just where he wanted to be: in the eye of the approaching storm.

The last five days hadn’t been without their frustrations, though. Lourds and the Brotherhood of the Joy Scroll had vanished. Despite Eckart’s best efforts, no trace remained of them. Webster knew the professor and his new allies were within the city proper. If they had their hands on the Joy Scroll, the vice-president remained certain that he would know it. He would feel that threat as surely as he felt the promise of the impending violence about to engulf Saudi Arabia.

He sipped his Scotch and water and glanced at the television in the corner the room. He maintained his own satellite dish that linked him to Western world news and not just the propaganda Prince Khalid allowed to air on local stations. The American Networks and the BBC all covered the mounting military presence along the Middle Eastern borders. In the last few days, the area had become a powder keg. One spark would set them all off, and the world would march towards a fiery conflagration.

He intended to provide the spark.

Exhilarated, he used the television remote control to switch through the news channels. Video footage, some of it old and some of it new, showed armoured ground units, aircraft and soldiers preparing for full-on military engagements. Israel was curiously silent, but no less industrious. India and Pakistan, as well as China, had also upped their border defences and patrols. In Iraq and Turkey, American forces also prepared. In the Gulf, navy ships ran strict grids and maintained constant contact.

Webster was inordinately pleased. All he needed was the Scroll to complete things and ensure his ultimate victory.

‘Are you still awake?’ Vicky DeAngelo stared at Webster from the tangled sheets of his bed.

‘I napped briefly,’ Webster admitted. ‘But I can’t sleep very well. Too many things to do.’

Vicky sat up in bed and pulled the sheets up after her. Only the full, heavy roundness of her left breast was visible, and Webster felt certain she knew exactly what she revealed as well as what she hid. Her slim, tanned legs were crossed but the sheet covered her lap.

She smiled. ‘I thought I had exhausted you.’

‘You did your best.’

Vicky arched a salacious eyebrow. ‘Is that an assessment or a challenge?’

‘Perhaps a little of both.’

‘Are you going to come over here? Or do I have to come after you?’

Webster didn’t reply.

Vicky tossed the sheets away and stood revealed in her full glory. She was beautiful, with alabaster skin and a body moulded by relentless exercise designed by a personal trainer and the narcissistic expertise of a gifted plastic surgeon. Not a blemish remained on her. She crossed the floor like royalty, claiming every inch of space with undeniable carnality. She was a temptress from the Old Testament, a siren who could topple kings and heroes, and Webster couldn’t help but be moved by the sight and promise of her.

When she reached him, she wrapped her left arm round his neck and took his drink in her right hand. She tossed back the rest of the Scotch and water, then moulded her fiery lips against his. He lifted her in his arms, stepped between her thighs, joined them, and turned so that her back was to the wall. Arching his body fiercely, he drove himself into her again and again. She cradled his head and covered his face in kisses. She surged against him and screamed in exultation again and again, till there was almost nothing left of her. With one final thrust, they both fell silent.

Slowly, Vicky regained control of her body. Tears ran down her cheeks, a mixture of pleasure and pain. Despite the adrenaline and lust that filled her eyes, Webster saw fear in there as well.

‘I’ve never felt anything like that before,’ Vicky gasped.

‘I know,’ Webster told her.

‘Awfully confident of yourself, aren’t you?’

‘Do I have any reason not to be?’ he taunted.

‘No, not at all.’ Vicky kissed him. ‘I have to admit, I expected you to turn me away after we arrived here.’

‘I don’t have to play the grieving widower any more.’ Webster kissed her again.

‘You were playing?’

‘No. I loved my wife.’ Webster was certain that was why she had been taken from him. Her loss had been one of the few setbacks in his relentlessly successful life. But now his plans were at last nearing fruition. He could afford a bit of amusement. He turned to her again and took her in his arms.

She opened herself willingly.

Nothing could stop him. He wouldn’t allow it.

Oceanview Offices

Eminonu District

Istanbul, Turkey

24 March 2010