The Bloodline Cipher (19 page)

‘Maybe it was obvious to the other members of the cell,' said Jonah. ‘A significant number.' He turned the clock away from the wall again. ‘Maya, I don't know about you but my last sleep was drug-induced and not exactly refreshing. Maybe we should think about turning in.'

‘There's three hundred and sixty degrees in a circle,' she muttered, not taking the hint. ‘And each degree is made up of sixty minutes, and each minute made up of sixty seconds …'

‘That's time, not angles.'

‘It's both! I'm talking about minutes and seconds of
arc
.'

Jonah rolled his blurry eyes. ‘That's just showing off.'

‘Blame the ancient Sumerians. They worked out time and geometry back in ancient Mesopotamia – and here we are still using their systems four thousand years later.' Maya looked at him with that strange
crooked smile. ‘Incredible how some things endure …'

‘It seems sort of overcomplicated, though, when you think about it,' Jonah reflected hazily, ‘dividing time and circles up in lumps of twelve and sixty.'

‘Not complicated to the Sumerians or the Babylonians. They did all their calculations in base sixty.' Her eyes widened and she suddenly gasped. ‘The Chinese calendar has the same mathematical basis. And it's
circular
– the years are counted and named in cycles of sixty …' Maya's pale, freckled face was growing more flushed by the moment. ‘Jonah, we're on the right track, we've got to be!'

‘You're jumping to some pretty wild conclusions here,' Jonah warned her.

‘I'm jumping on your bed!' she warned him back, leaping over his lap and bouncing up and down in an ecstasy of release, her grin wide and red hair catching in the light. ‘If we find some kind of cyclical pattern in the re-inked characters then it might mean –'

There was a muffled knock at the door. Maya stopped bouncing as Jonah crossed to open it.

‘Jonah,' breathed Tye, pushing through the doorway and into his arms, making him stagger back inside the room. ‘I thought … I mean, I …'

‘Er …' He returned the hug, self-consciously. ‘Coldhardt never said you were back.'

‘We haven't told him, yet. There's stuff we need to –'

Tye must have sensed his awkwardness, looked up – and now saw Maya sitting down on the edge of the bed. Even with tired eyes, he caught the emotions moving through Tye's eyes – surprise, confusion. Hurt.
And then he saw the livid bruise on her cheek. ‘Hey, what happened to your –'

‘Sorry,' said Tye briskly, heading back towards the door. ‘I thought you'd be alone.'

‘Had to kill the time till you were back somehow, didn't I?' Jonah grabbed hold of her hand. ‘Uh, working, I mean.'

‘Yes, we were just working on the cipher,' Maya agreed.

Tye looked at her. ‘On the bed?'

‘I was just kind of bouncing on it. I was happy.' Maya grinned sheepishly. ‘Your boyfriend's smart, and I think we could be close to a breakthrough with the cipher.'

‘He's not my boyfriend,' Tye began automatically, ‘we –'

‘Don't worry, I won't tell,' Maya interrupted. ‘It's clear that something is between you, but there is nothing between him and me.'

‘Of course there isn't,' said Jonah hastily, his cheeks flushing.

‘You read body language, you can tell.' Maya shrugged. ‘I'm not lying.'

Tye stared at her, then glanced back at Jonah. She looked away, put a hand to her forehead. ‘You know, whatever. This is, like, nothing. Nothing on a day like today.'

‘What happened?' asked Jonah, going to her.

‘Come down and you'll see,' she said wearily. ‘If you can tear yourself away, I mean.'

She left the room. Jonah started after her, then hesitated, looked back at Maya.

‘You should go,' Maya said, but her sympathetic smile faltered as she pointed to the computer. ‘Just hurry back, OK?'

He mock saluted. ‘Do my best.'
And hope that one day that's enough
, he thought, as he crossed the wood-floored landing after Tye.

Tye knew that Maya was telling the truth about not being interested in Jonah, and that Jonah wasn't really into Maya. But as she took the spiral steps down to the hangout, two at a time, she knew also that Jonah could never share himself with her the way he had with that red-haired stranger tonight. He'd often lose himself for days at a time in the world on his screen; that capacity baffled Tye, but she'd found it kind of cute. She loved his quietness, the way he made her feel she could tell him anything.

But that's not how you make
him
feel, is it?
she thought darkly. There he was sat with some red-haired stranger who could lose a night with him in just the same way, who talked the same hacker-speak he did. She pictured him laughing with Maya yesterday morning over their early days with water-coolers, or whatever. All it meant to Tye was a cold drink from a plastic cup.

Because I'm stupid, and they're smart
, she thought unhappily.
Because I was smuggling dope while they were taking classes. And though the choices we made and the crowds we hung with all led us here to Coldhardt just the same, where are they going to lead us next?

Today it felt like the world was raining down around her ears.

She rejoined Motti, Con and Patch, gathered round the snooker table, laying out the haul from Heidel's briefcase.

‘Is the geek coming, Tye?' asked Motti.

Patch sniggered. ‘Give her a chance, Mot, she was only with him twenty seconds.'

All we ever manage is snatched moments here and there
, she thought as she wearily put on the smile expected of her.

‘What'd I miss?' Jonah called, hurrying down the staircase. ‘D'you get the stuff?'

‘We almost
got
stuffed,' said Patch, showing off his purple eye.

Tye let the others speak for her, watching Jonah as he listened tensely to all that had happened. She could see the concern large in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘I'm fine,' she said patiently as Patch reached the bloody conclusion of events. ‘Really.'

‘She's
super
fine,' Motti added, reaching into his pocket. ‘Look what she got back from the bitch with the bow …'

‘Coldhardt's ring!' Jonah grinned and snatched it. ‘Fantastic, Tye. God, when she was waving it in my face at Blackland's like a trophy, I wished …'

You're always wishing
, thought Tye. She didn't want to enjoy his praise just yet. ‘Yeah, well … I just hope the British police can handle her now.'

‘Coldhardt should let you keep that ring,' said Motti. ‘You earned it.'

‘Maybe you shouldn't even tell him you got it back,' Jonah suggested.

‘You can't do that!' said Con, snatching the ring
away and gazing at it herself. ‘That would be immoral!'

Tye couldn't help but laugh at that, and the others joined in.

‘What's immoral is that you weren't there in that barn with us, geek,' said Motti, his smile fading. ‘Getting a shotgun rammed up your ass.'

‘Well, you know it wasn't all plain sailing this end, either,' Jonah told them, itching a livid red spot on his neck.

Con raised her eyebrows. ‘You got acne?'

‘What happened with Sorin?' Patch asked eagerly.

Jonah took a deep breath. ‘He broke into the safe house, poisoned me and Maya, then he was killed by a pair of freaks from Nomen Oblitum, right in front of our eyes.'

‘What the hell …?' Tye's fears and anxieties slunk off to the back burner. ‘Are
you
OK?'

He used the phrase she had used a minute before, and meant it about as much as she did. ‘I'm fine. Really.'

‘Wanna fill in some of the details here?' Motti pressed him.

Tye and the others listened to Jonah in silence. No light relief or laughter now.

‘… and Coldhardt took care of the clean-up and the corpse this afternoon,' Jonah concluded. ‘Sorin's dead, me and Maya are alive, and we've got the same people to thank.'

‘They sound like blokes you don't mess with,' said Patch with feeling.

Con looked troubled. ‘And you really think Coldhardt's going to deal with them?'

Jonah shrugged. ‘Depends if you've come back with hard proof that Heidel's back from the dead, only thirty years older.'

‘Thirty years older?' Patch handed Jonah the same battered photograph he'd shown to Tye on the plane. ‘Uh-uh. Check
this
out.'

Tye watched the frown etch itself into Jonah's face as he stared at the young man and the old, together.

‘Mental, innit?' Patch murmured. ‘You think of Coldhardt and you think he's been old all his life …'

Con nodded. ‘And there's Heidel proving it's an option!'

Jonah laid the photo down flat on the baize, clearly weirded out. ‘If this picture's for real, then surely the Heidel we met has
got
to be just a lookalike.'

‘Maybe he
is
the genuine geezer,' Patch argued. ‘If these NO men are as tasty with their fingers as you say …'

Jonah looked at him. ‘You really think some freaks in fancy dress can magically program your DNA to make you live longer?'

‘Doesn't really matter what we think,' said Tye. ‘We've got plenty of evidence now for Coldhardt to decide what's real. He's the only one who'll know for sure …'

‘About any of it,' Motti agreed, picking up a snooker cue. ‘Still, it looks like your geeky Russian girlfriend was right about one thing.'

‘She's not my girlfriend,' Jonah snapped, as Tye shifted uncomfortably. ‘What thing?'

‘Coldhardt stole the idea of employing a hip, young taskforce to help him out in his twilight years from his
old boss, all right,' Motti went on. ‘But what he forgot to tell us, was that the boss man in question just happened to be Heidel.'

‘So Coldhardt turned on his boss …?' Jonah stared down at the rest of the briefcase booty laid out on the table, and Tye watched as his discomfort became confusion. ‘What is all this stuff?'

‘The crap Heidel was carrying round in his briefcase,' said Motti. ‘Rigged to go up in smoke if anyone forced open the case.'

‘Any un-mega-talented person, anyway,' Patch chipped in proudly.

Jonah made to rifle through a small pile of manila wallets. ‘OK, so what're these?'

‘Uh-uh.' Con slapped his fingers lightly. ‘We need to preserve fingerprints, yes?'

‘They're Heidel's personnel files,' said Tye. ‘Past and present.'

‘And they make pretty good reading.' Motti looked at Jonah. ‘D'you remember Coldhardt namechecking Karl Saitou when we got back from LA?'

‘He was the competition, wasn't he?' Jonah nodded. ‘Morell was all set to give Saitou the job of stealing the manuscript.'

‘Let's flashback a little further … to the time that style forgot.' Motti flicked open the cover of the top file with the tip of the cue to reveal a photograph. It showed a young Asian man in his mid-twenties, with neat, straight features and a mop of dark hair. The collars on his blue shirt looked long and sharp enough to stab his navel.

‘Here's Saitou as he used to be,' said Con.
‘Weapons and security expert, former prizefighter and authority on ancient civilisations.'

Jonah nodded. ‘Your typical combination.'

‘“
A competent if unimaginative criminal
”, Coldhardt called him – but he must have worked alongside him as part of Heidel's team in the seventies.'

‘Saitou joined the outfit in 1971,' Tye added. ‘There's no file on Coldhardt, so we don't know when he came in … But judging by the freaky outfits in that photo of Coldhardt and Heidel together, it has to be around the same time.'

‘So Heidel was to Coldhardt what Coldhardt is to us …' Jonah looked lost in thought. ‘But did Coldhardt turn on his friends as well as the boss, or were they all in on it?'

‘If only we'd known this sooner, we could've asked someone who was there – then
and
now.' Motti slid Saitou's file from the top of the pile and used the cue to flip open the next. ‘
This
is a guy called David Street, another gang member from the class of seventy-one.' The photo showed a tall, aristocratic-looking dark-haired man with a bad moustache. ‘He was their expert on electronics and computer systems, as well as an old-style cat burglar and safecracker. Meant to have been best in the business.'

‘And it turns out our mate Davy was in London yesterday, keeping an eye on Heidel like we were.' Patch produced the camcorder tape. ‘Seems we accidentally got him on tape – he saw us, and sent his boys round.'

‘They must've found you pretty quickly,' said Jonah, as Patch led the way over to the TV room.

‘I reckon Street must have followed us himself and arranged back-up in transit,' said Tye, falling into step beside Jonah. It felt good just to push away the love stuff for a bit; at least they could still function professionally, and –

Love?

Oh shit
.

‘Question is,' said Jonah, oblivious beside her, ‘did Street realise you were working for Coldhardt?'

‘I don't think so,' said Con. ‘Surely he would take more than just a camcorder tape if he did?'

Patch quickly loaded up the mini-DV player, and soon was fast-forwarding past his little butt montage to tuts from Con and Motti. Tye sat by herself, trying to get her thoughts on track.
Later
, she told herself.
Deal with it later when you're alone
.

She glanced at Jonah. He chanced a smile, and she pretended not to see.

Or maybe just run and hide
.

She forced her eyes to focus on the screen, on Heidel and Bree hailing their black cab – and in the background, stood behind a vintage Merc, was a better-dressed, clean-shaven but still recognisable David Street. He stood watching Heidel as he entered the cab, his face unreadable. Then he glanced towards the camera, frowned and turned back to watch the cab pull away.