Black Flagged Redux (60 page)

The clamor of the guards exiting the Chamber reverberated down the passage where the prowler had dropped to the floor from the duct at the far end. Engaging the night-vision goggles again, the intruder easily found the harness dangling from the well’s opening and, with a practiced motion, donned and secured it. The climb back to the top of the narrow shaft took several minutes of fiercely-determined exertion. At the end of the ascent the noise of pursuers fumbling through the hall below inspired a burst of stamina – the final twenty feet were conquered in a few seconds, just as the guards reached the bottom of the shaft, screaming in frustration. Shots echoed from the void, and bullets nicked the interior of the well’s rim, but it was too late.

The nearly-invisible figure ran three hundred yards through the brush until arriving at a clearing – an ancient cemetery, possibly for the Abbey’s service staff, or a long-departed farming family. The intruder glanced back at the Abbey, now glowing with illumination, every window streaming light into the gloom. The frantic roar of car engines starting shattered the still night over the foggy moor.

Perfect
. The din would cover the sound of the getaway vehicle – a blacked-out obsidian Moto-Guzzi Stelvio NTX motorcycle hidden, for a fast escape, behind one of the battered headstones.

A gloved finger stabbed the starter button and the big motor cranked to rumbling life. The rider checked the backpack, ensuring it was tightly closed and safely strapped in place. It wouldn’t do to have the canister lost on a trail somewhere in the English wilds.

No, the contents were far too precious to take foolish chances with. If the legends were true, the cylinder held the key to the most important secret ever known – a secret capable of changing the course of history.

Slamming the motorcycle into gear, the black-garbed rider sprayed gravel with the rear wheel and roared off into the night.

CHAPTER 1

Present Day, The Road to Lucca, Italy

Dr. Steven Archer Cross was having a very bad day.

His cell phone, wedged in its dashboard holder, signaled an incoming call just as he narrowly missed ramming his 2009 Porsche Cabriolet into a Renault sedan that had come to a skidding halt in front of him, blocked by a stalled VW Wesfalia covered with faded bumper stickers. The cars behind him slammed on their brakes and then stood on their horns in frustrated anger, as though somehow he’d conspired with the Renault and broken-down van immediately ahead. Steven had the Porsche’s convertible top down, and he could feel angry eyes boring into the back of his head as he waited for an opportunity to pull around the immobile camper.

Eventually, one of the vehicles behind him took pity and waved him forward. He signaled and pulled past the log-jammed clump of vehicles to join the rubberneckers in witnessing another unlucky driver’s misfortune. A tall man with curly brown hair and a faded Grateful Dead T-shirt stood by the side of the road, agitatedly talking on his cell phone. The look on his face telegraphed this wasn’t the first time the Volkswagen had betrayed him.

Steven stepped on the gas as he drove away from the congestion, checking the digital dashboard clock as he accelerated through the gears. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror, the wind buffeting his shaggy, light brown hair; the beginnings of hairline wrinkles on his tanned face framed his hazel eyes. Not so bad for forty-five, he reasoned, especially considering the mileage.

The road ahead of him opened up and soon he was tearing along at eighty, traffic having thinned to nothing. The vehicular crisis circumvented, he turned his attention to the phone and the missed call.

He reached for the keypad and hit the send button. His office manager Gwen answered.

“Hullo,” she said in British-accented English, her Yorkshire heritage obvious even from the single word.

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t pick up. I was a little busy.”

“How busy can you be on a day like today?” Gwen asked.

“You’d be surprised at how much I have going on,” Steven protested. “What’s up?”

“A strange call came in a few minutes ago. The gentlemen said he needed to speak to you immediately,” Gwen said.

“Okay…did you get a name?”

“Winston Twain. Mean anything?” Gwen asked.

Steven mentally file-referenced Twain. It was familiar, almost on the periphery of ‘very important’, but after racking his brain for a few moments the sensation of familiarity flitted away. Which didn’t necessarily mean anything – he’d been scattered since…

No point dwelling on the unpleasant.

“Not really. What did he want?” Steven asked.

“Just said it was a matter of significant importance.”

“Significant? Fine. What’s his number?”

“He didn’t leave one. Said he’d call back. He sounded like another Yank. I think the call might have been international,” Gwen opined.

Steven considered Gwen’s words – most calls of actual ‘significant importance’ tended to leave call-back numbers. Especially ones from the States, assuming her instinct was correct. Which it usually was. Gwen had been his office manager and handler since the inception of his software business three and a half years ago. She had an uncanny knack of being able to read people and was rarely wrong.

An uncomfortable silence hovered over the line.

“You’re still going to jump today?” Gwen asked.

“Yes,” Steven said.

“Jump out of a perfectly good plane, right?”

“Right.”

“Dropping at thirty-six feet per second, at a speed of–”

“Stop it. I have to go,” Steven protested.

“Cheers, then, and remember: what goes up…” Gwen disconnected.

As he fought the morning traffic towards Lucca, a city roughly half an hour north-west of Florence, Steven suddenly remembered what the name Winston Twain meant.

“I’ll be damned,” Steven muttered to himself.

Winston Twain.

Arguably the most respected cryptologist in the world.

Purchase
The Voynich Cypher
by Russell Blake

Character List

In alphabetical order

"Andrei"
- Black Flag Operative, Russian Group, assigned to Petrovich's Kazakhstan team

Audra Bauer
- Deputy Director of National Clandestine Service

Karl Berg
- CIA agent, National Clandestine Service liaison to Weapons of Mass Destruction Center

Dustin "Dusty" Bremer
- CIA agent assigned to U.S. Embassy in Astana, Kazakhstan

Goran Brujic
- Former paramilitary commander in Srecko Hadzic's White Panther criminal organization

Susan Castaneda
- FBI Special Agent, Legal Attaché, U.S. Embassy in Buenos Aires, Argentina

Dr. Valeria Cherkasov
- Emergency room doctor, Monchegorsk Central Hospital

Lieutenant Commander Scott Daly
- U.S. Navy, SEAL, Assault Force Commander, Operation Bold Scimitar

Rear Admiral Mark DeSantos
- U.S. Navy, Head of the Strategic Support Branch under DIA control

Major Stepan Eristov
- Zaslon Group Spetznaz leader, Stockholm

Richard Farrington
- Black Flag Operative, head of the Russian Group. Wanted by the FBI

Ernesto Galenden
- Wealthy Argentinian business tycoon supporting General Sanderson's program

Lieutenant General Frank Gordon
- U.S. Army, Head of Joint Special Operations Command

Josif Hadzic
- Srecko Hadzic's nephew

Srecko Hadzic
- Imprisoned Serbian war criminal, awaiting U.N. trial at the Hague, Netherlands

Eric Hesterman
- FBI Special Agent, Domestic Terrorism Branch, Part of Ryan Sharpe's Task Force

Jared Hoffman
- Black Flag Operative, sniper, trained by Daniel Petrovich

Konrad Hubner
- Black Flagged Operative, European Group, Assigned to Stockholm operation

Darryl Jackson
- Brown River Security Corporation executive

Miljan Jendzejec
- Former enforcer in Srecko Hadzic's White Panther criminal organization

Alexei Kaparov
- Deputy Counterterrorism Director, Federal Security Services, Russian Federation

Major General Bob Kearney
- U.S. Army, Head of the Defense Intelligence Agency

Sarah Kestler
- White House Counterterrorism Director

"Leo"
- Black Flag Operative, Russian Group, assigned to Petrovich's Kazakhstan team

Sergeant Malyshev
- Active duty Russian Army, assistant to Captain Sabitov

Thomas Manning
- National Clandestine Service Director

Enrique "Rico" Melendez
- Black Flag Operative, sniper, trained by Daniel Petrovich

Frank Mendoza
- FBI Special Agent, Operations Section One, Al Qaeda Investigative Unit

Jeffrey Munoz
- Black Flag Operative. Urban operations instructor, Wanted by the FBI

Brigadier General Lawrence Nichols
- U.S. Marine Corps, Head of USMC Special Forces Command

Dana O'Reilly
- FBI Special Agent, Domestic Terrorism Branch, Lead Analyst for Ryan Sharpe

Daniel Petrovich
- Black Flag operative, aka Dario Russo, Marko Resja, Wanted by the FBI

Jessica Petrovich
- Black Flag operative, aka Natalia Russo, Zorana Zekulic, Wanted by the FBI

Yuri Prerovsky
- Federal Security Services (FSB), Russian Federation. Assistant to Alexei Kaparov

Anatoly Reznikov
- Rogue Russian Scientist

Captain Maxim Sabitov
- Russian Army reservist, leader of Monchegorsk uprising

Brigadier General Terrence Sanderson
- U.S. Army retired, Black Flag program founder, Wanted by the FBI

Hans Schafer
- Black Flagged Operative, European Group, Assigned to Monchegorsk and Stockholm operation

"Sergei"
- Black Flag Operative, Russian Group, assigned to Petrovich's Kazakhstan team

Ryan Sharpe
- FBI Special Agent, Domestic Terrorism Branch, Task Force Commander

Frederick Shelby
- Director of the FBI

Gerald Simmons
- Assistant Secretary for Special Operations and Low Intensity Conflict

Dmitry Solomin
- Russian Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR), Stockholm

Captain Vasily Tischenko
- Russian Air Force Special Operations helicopter pilot

Lieutenant Colonel Grigory Zadornov
- Russian Federation Army, Battalion Commander

Black Flagged Redux Equipment Primer

AK-74 Assault Rifle with ACOG Scope

AKS-74u Assault Rifle

Mi-28 Havoc Attack Helicopter