The Lucifer Code (13 page)

But Lourds couldn’t relax. He kept expecting an assault from any front.

‘You didn’t mention your name,’ Lourds said.

The young man smiled and shook his head. ‘I cannot. Please forgive me this social inadequacy. I have very strict orders.’

‘Regarding me? Or the book?’

‘They are the same.’

‘Seeing as how I’ve been under the threat of death since I arrived in the city, isn’t there something you can tell me?’

‘Only that many things are coming to a head and danger is loose in the world.’

‘Kind of oblique, don’t you think?’ Lourds asked.

‘In your field of study, you’ve covered a lot of history. Have you ever known a prophecy that was not oblique?’

‘This is about a prophecy?’

‘No. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.’ The young man trailed his fingers through his goatee and looked pained. ‘Honestly, Professor, I wish that I could tell you more.’

‘Besides you, and Qayin’s people, who else knows about this?’

‘Several people know something of the background regarding the book, and the secret it protects. Qayin’s people have had it for a very long time.’

‘How long?’

‘The last three hundred and thirty-seven years.’

‘In this city?’

‘That book,’ the young man said, ‘has
never
left this city.’

‘Why?’

‘It isn’t permitted.’

Lourds shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. Anyone could leave this city with the book.’

‘Could you?’ The young man smiled with bright interest. ‘I wonder if you could.’

‘Is that a challenge?’

‘The challenge, Professor, is whether you can decipher the book and find what it hides.’

‘I could do that at Harvard,’ Lourds said. ‘In fact, it might be far easier to do it there.’ He paused. ‘Or would you stop me?’

‘Yes. As would Qayin. There are others who seek the book as well. If you stay here, we can protect you to some degree.’

‘Like you did yesterday?’

‘We didn’t know you were in jeopardy until yesterday,’ the young man said.

‘You didn’t know Qayin would kidnap me?’

‘No. It wasn’t until his lackeys were recognized that we knew of Qayin’s involvement.’

‘Qayin thought I might be able to decipher the book and your people didn’t?’

‘Sorry, but no, we didn’t.’

Lourds emitted a displeased grunt.

‘Please don’t take that as a slight against your ability, Professor,’ the young man said. ‘We’ve had people working on that book for generations. During those years, my superiors have come to the conclusion that we weren’t waiting for an individual to translate that text. We were waiting for a time.’

Somewhat mollified, Lourds nodded. ‘You think now is the time?’

‘We are prepared to wait and see. And to allow you your chance with the book. When we found Qayin’s hiding place and discovered that you were able to translate portions of the book, it was decided that perhaps the time might be now.’ The young man glanced out of the window but Lourds knew he wasn’t seeing anything out there. His mind was elsewhere.

‘Qayin must have had a higher estimation of my abilities than you,’ Lourds said.

‘Perhaps.’ The young man glanced at Lourds again. ‘Or perhaps he was merely more desperate.’

‘I suppose there’s no slight intended in that observation either.’

‘No. I apologize. I’m used to being very blunt in matters concerning that book.’

The cab slowed, then pulled into the entrance lane of the Eserin Crown Hotel. A liveried expediter stepped up to the side of the cab and opened the door for Lourds. The man was professional enough to only look askance at the professor’s dishevelled appearance for a moment.

‘Good morning, sir,’ the expediter greeted. ‘Welcome to the Eserin Crown Hotel.’

‘Good morning,’ Lourds responded. ‘Thank you.’

‘Do you have any bags?’

Lourds almost laughed. Had the situation been funny, he might have. ‘No, I suppose I don’t.’ That was going to be a problem. He turned back to the young man in the cab. ‘Will I see you again?’

‘That remains to be seen.’ He extended a hand. ‘Good luck, Professor. I hope you’re successful in your endeavour. In any event, we will be in touch.’

Lourds didn’t know if he was supposed to feel threatened, but he did. Having nothing else to say, he closed the cab’s door and stepped back. The cab driver cruised sedately into the traffic. The young man glanced back through the window and waved in a purely innocent gesture.

Lourds waved back and felt immediately stupid. He turned to the expediter. ‘I suppose the hotel has good security?’

‘Of course, sir. Only the very best.’

‘And someone on site?’

The expediter looked at Lourds curiously. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Very good.’ Lourds allowed the man to open the door for him and stepped into an elegant foyer. Guests and staff stared at him as though he were a street person. He had to admit that, with torn clothing and covered in dirt, he would have easily passed muster as one of those.

Gathering his dignity, Lourds approached the check-in desk. A beautiful young woman in a business suit looked up at him and politely said hello. Lourds gave her his name. The young woman’s face brightened immediately, but it was clearly a struggle. Lourds was certain she was probably downwind of him.

‘Ah, of course. Professor Lourds,’ the young woman said brightly. ‘We had expected you yesterday.’

‘I take it you haven’t been watching the news.’

The young woman gazed at him blankly. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I was delayed,’ Lourds replied. ‘It was in the news.’

‘Sorry. I must have missed it.’ She made quick entries into the computer and asked for a credit card against room expenses. ‘Would you need one key or two?’

‘One, thank you.’ Lourds took the proffered key and headed for the elevator bank.

‘Oh, Professor Lourds,’ the desk clerk called.

‘Yes?’

‘You’ll find your bags are already in your room.’

‘Really? Who delivered them?’

The clerk shrugged and looked at her computer. ‘The screen doesn’t say. Only that the bags were delivered yesterday afternoon.’

Lourds thanked her and took the elevator up to his room.
You really shouldn’t be doing this
, he thought.
If you had any sense, you’d take a taxi to the airport and board the first flight back to Boston that you could get.

But he knew he wasn’t going to do that. The mystery of the book was calling out to him.

Outside his room door, Lourds hesitated with the electronic keycard in hand. Cold fear shivered through him and nausea twisted his stomach. He really wasn’t prepared for anything like this.

Despite his efforts to find lost Atlantis, and all the dangers he’d faced then, he wasn’t mentally or physically suited for the rigours of getting shot at and beaten. Those were experiences he much preferred to read about in the thrillers he relished. He was a simple man, really.

With his hands shaking the way they were, it took three attempts to get the keycard through the reader. The lock clicked and the light flashed green, indicating the door was open. Lourds eased into the room slowly and carefully, listening for the slightest noise. He spotted his luggage at the foot of the king-sized bed. The sight of the bed alone enticed him into the darkened room. He stripped out of the backpack and dropped it on to the room’s desk.

A mirror hung over the desk. When Lourds flipped on the nearby light and sought to check the damage done to his face, he saw the reflection of a man sitting comfortably in a chair beside the bed. Lourds hadn’t been able to see the man until it was too late.

He span round and headed for the exit, pausing only long enough to snag the backpack. Before he reached the door, it opened and a large man filled the doorway. The man stepped into the room and Lourds backed up.

‘Ah, Professor Lourds, I presume.’ The man in the chair beside the bed smiled apologetically. ‘I beg your indulgence. I feel like Stanley meeting Doctor Livingstone.’

Lourds stood his ground when the big man stopped advancing. The room was on the fourth floor. Even if he were able to crash through the reinforced glass of the window, when that shattered, he wouldn’t survive the fall.

‘I understood the reference,’ Lourds said.

The man smiled. ‘I knew you would. I don’t often get to talk to people so well educated in my line of work.’

‘Maybe you should tell me what your line of work is. Other than breaking and entering into hotel rooms.’

‘Oh, I didn’t break and enter, Professor. I had an invitation.’ The man reached under his jacket, and the brief movement revealed the pistol residing in the shoulder holster tucked neatly under his arm. ‘I have a legal document that allowed me to enter. I assume your Turkish is good?’

‘My Turkish is fantastic.’ Lourds took the document the man held out and glanced at it.

‘I assure you, Professor, you’ll find everything is in order.’

Lourds looked over the top of the document at the man. ‘You’re a policeman?’

The man spread his hands and smiled. ‘A detective, actually. Detective Dilek Ersoz at your service.’ He inclined his head slightly. ‘And I’m a fan. I enjoyed your Atlantis book and some of your other analytical treatises. And my wife continues to sing praises of
Bedroom Pursuits
.’

‘Can’t ever have too many fans, according to my publishers.’ Lourds handed the document back. ‘I assume you’re not here about an autograph. The last one I signed didn’t turn out so well.’

‘An autograph would be most excellent at some point,’ Ersoz replied. ‘Sadly, this is not that point.’

‘What do you want, Detective Ersoz?’

Ersoz held his thumb and forefinger about a quarter-inch apart. ‘Only a short amount of your time, Professor.’

‘I suppose I have no choice?’

‘Of course you have a choice.’ Ersoz smiled. ‘You can come of your own free will, or we can arrest you and take you out of here in handcuffs.’

‘I suppose a shower is out of the question.’

‘I must express my apologies for the hurry. My superior did ask me to bring you in the moment you showed up.’

Lourds sighed. ‘Of course he did.’

‘People died yesterday morning, Professor. There always has to be an accounting for something like this.’ Ersoz stood and fastidiously shot his cuffs. ‘Let’s go.’

Without another word, Lourds clapped his hat on his head once more and grabbed his backpack. He followed the big man out of the room.

CHAPTER

9

Olivium Outlet Centre

Zeytinburnu District

Istanbul, Turkey

17 March 2010

W
hen you have to disappear, the best place to disappear is inside a crowd.

Cleena’s father had taught her that when she was twelve and she’d started carrying guns for him to sell on the streets. That had been back when Ryan MacKenna had been working hand-to-mouth on the street in Boston’s Combat Zone. He’d sold weapons by the piece in those days, and often Cleena had carried them for him.

She’d learned how to run and hide during those days, and she’d become one of the best at it. No one had ever caught her, not the police and not other street gangs. She’d had a mental map of all the alleys and rooftops that afforded some measure of concealment and paths to safety. She’d ducked through tight places slick as a rat, and flew from rooftop to rooftop like one of the pigeons.

As soon as she’d quit Lourds and the robed strangers, she’d headed into the Zeytinburnu District. She’d been to Istanbul before, procuring weapons, and knew the area well enough. The neighbourhood was hard and hungry. During the day, quick-footed boys stole purses and wallets from tourists adventurous or ill-informed enough to come into the neighbourhood in search of vice. At night, the prostitutes and street-corner hustlers came out to ply their trades in the shadows. In the beginning, Zeytinburnu had been home to the leather industry in Turkey. That coastal area had been called Kazlicesme, after a famous stone fountain featuring a carved goose. These days, the goose was gone and so was the leather industry, but a mixed stew of Greeks, Bulgarians, Jews, Turks and Armenians still eked out a living there. Despite the difference in culture and dialect, Cleena knew she spoke the same language as the rough men and women working the streets. And she knew a lot about the struggling middle class living the straight life. Every metropolitan city had an underbelly like this one.

She’d bought clothing from a second-hand store and was now dressed in American jeans that mostly fit her, a pastel grey pullover that looked new, work boots and a quilted jacket. Wraparound sunglasses hid her eyes and she’d tucked her flaming red hair up under a black watch cap.

She carried a Czech 9mm pistol in the back of her waistband where she could get to it quickly if she needed to. A quick visit to a gun dealer she knew had netted her a clean pistol, with the understanding that the one she’d used as part of the payment was too hot to sell as it was.

Now you just make your arrangements and blow this pop stand
, Cleena told herself as she strode through the Olivium Outlet Centre. Throngs of people surrounded her as she walked through the shopping mall. Four stories tall, and huge, the mall housed well over one hundred shops these days. Many of them carried named brands from the United States and Great Britain. There were theatres, a supermarket and several fast-food restaurants.

Cleena found a cyber café and purchased time on a card. She gave a false name and false identification to secure the computer.

Selecting one of the computers near the window that looked out over the wall, Cleena logged on and brought up the phone server her sister used. Brigid was for ever texting her friends. Cleena had learned how to text, but she didn’t except rarely. She’d preferred since childhood not to leave trails.

At the server, she checked the text log of the pre-paid cell phone she’d purchased in the airport. She’d ditched that phone when she’d dumped her clothes, and bought another phone in the mall.