The Decrypter: Secret of the Lost Manuscript (Calla Cress Techno Thriller Series: Book 1) (17 page)

“Are those things you aspire to have?”

Mason wiped his mouth with a delicate beige napkin.  “Who doesn’t?”

Once the meal was over, the housekeeper cleaned the table. 

Jack studied Mason as he took his time wiping his lips with a delicate napkin.  Mason rose from the table, taking his glass of wine with him.  “Let’s have some drinks in the den.  Mrs. Hawke, thank you for a lovely meal.”

She nodded and cleared the dirty plates. 

Jack called out to her.  “I won’t have any more drinks, Mrs. Hawke.  I’m driving.”

“In that case, bring me a brandy, Mrs. Hawke. Mr. Kleve and I’ll have some cigars,” Mason said.

“I don't smoke.”

 “A man conscious of his health.  This way please.”

They proceeded through the landing to the salon opposite the dining room.  Its décor and set-up mirrored the former room.  When the housekeeper had finally left them, Mason returned to the subject at hand. 

He handed Jack a cigar.

Jack shook his head.

“You sure?”

He doesn’t take no for an answer!
“Yes.”

Mason lit his cigar.  “I need you to create a program.  A discrete, surveillance program.  It’s a matter of national security.”

Jack had always been a little skeptical of the man’s behavior, since he took over ISTF two years ago.  He squinted an eye. “Who’s the target?  Surely we have enough systems in existence that could do the task.”

“I need something a little more custom-made.  Nothing that can be traced to us, or ISTF.  A science project if you like.”

What does he mean ‘us’?
Jack shifted into the seat across from the fireplace.  “How so?”

Mason stood gazing into the fire. He flicked cigar ashes in the smoldering furnace, the placid flames reflecting in his face.  “I need intelligence on three enterprises: three people to be exact Rupert Kumar, Margot Arlington the Republican governor and Samuel Riche.”

Jack knew these names.  They were already under surveillance at ISTF, but on a low priority level.

“Aren’t we following these people already?”

Mason now turned away from the fire.  “I need something more, deeper surveillance into their private affairs.  This matter requires the utmost confidentiality.  Jack Kleve, you are the most intelligent asset we have at ISTF.  I know your file well.  You’re a seasoned graduate of a top university, with a sharp technological and entrepreneurial mind.  I’ve seen some of the developments you’ve presented at the TED shows.  I know you are on loan to us, choosing to work temporarily on Operation Carbonado.  We need people like you.”  He flicked his cigar again.  “Drop everything you’re doing and make this your number one priority.”

Jack’s voice choked with caution. “I understand.”

“You’re to speak to no one about this.”

“What may I ask are we hoping to find?  Is this anyway related to Operation Carbonado?  These people pose no threat to us.”

Mason drew back from the fire and took a seat next to Jack. 

Jack loathed the way his eyes pierced into his soul, almost demonic.

Mason provided no encouragement “I know, but trust me, this is crucial.”

Jack’s phone buzzed on silent. 

He was thankful for the interruption that relieved him of Mason’s intoxicating stare.  “Okay.  I think I’ve an idea what you may require.  The system I have in mind requires personal contact with the targets.  Can that method of contact be arranged?”

Mason’s mood eased at the suggestion.  “You mean someone will need to be in personal contact with each of them.  I can arrange that, provided it’s easy to plant.”

Jack shot to his feet.  “I should have the devices up and ready for trial in a day or two.”

Jack’s phone beeped again. 

Another text message from Nash. 

He ignored it.  “I’m sorry, but I need to leave now.  Was there anything else you wanted?”

Mason escorted him to the front entrance, turning one last time towards Jack with his chin held high.  “This could work in your favor.  I know you applied for the international technology award and for NASA’s exclusive, technology program.”

Not even my mother knows that!

Jack despised the rigorous background checks and security measures that he’d endured to be part of Operation Carbonado. After all, ISTF had scouted him and not the other way round. 

The closer Jack stood next to Mason, the more disdain he felt.  He couldn’t exactly pinpoint where it came from, but he needed to tread with caution
and
cover his back.

Mason held out a hand.  “This project could help you achieve that.”

Jack responded to the offered gesture and shook Mason’s firm hand.  “I’ll keep you informed of my progress.”

Once outside the residence, Jack progressed to his car, cussing under his breath. He’d failed to plant the very bug that Mason wanted.

On Mason! 

It sat idly on the front seat of his car.

CHAPTER TWELVE

10:00 P.M.

St. Giles Square

West London

“Let me get you something to eat.  I take it you’ve not had a bite all day.”

Taiven threw open the door to the estate. 

He was right.  Calla had not eaten since the flight home.  She’d not even had a moment to speak to Nash or Jack. 
Must think I’m still in Berlin. They would have called by now.

She stole a quick glance at her cell phone.

12 missed calls.

Taiven settled Calla in the kitchen.  His hands worked with ease pulling cabinets open and whipping up a whole-wheat club sandwich, garnished with a generous portion of Roman lettuce and baby, cherry tomatoes bathed with Caesar dressing.

Taiven moved towards the refrigerator and produced what looked like a platter of Camembert moose and smoked, pule cheese.  “You’ve had an ordeal.  Perhaps an explanation can help you with some of the puzzles.  Eat now.  You can’t do this on an empty stomach.”

Taiven left her to eat in solitude.  Though hunger had been suppressed by the day’s events, she was grateful for the nourishment.

Several minutes later, Calla leaned against the steel of the kitchen stool.  It was the first moment she’d settled since returning from Berlin.  She rose and grabbed a travel size bottle of Perrier water from the fridge and found Taiven in the den flipping through a book by the shelves.

“Has Pearl settled for the night?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Taiven, are you an MI5 agent?”

He closed the book he was reading and strolled to the window, flicking a switch to close all the shades.  “This is your home now, Calla.  Ms. Driscoll wanted it this way.”

Didn’t hear me?

Aware that he would not answer directly, Calla skimmed her mind for the most important questions she wanted answered. 

The manuscript?

Allegra’s disappearance?

Or Taiven’s alleged employment by Intelligence Services?

He asked her to sit in the chair at the desk and took a seat across from her.  “Please hand me the manuscript.”

Calla pulled the coveted papers from the diplomatic bag.  She wondered if Taiven knew about the note.  Initially, she’d assumed it had come from Allegra. 

Calla pursued the matter.  “Why did you send me the diplomatic bag?”

“It was the only way to get the manuscript out of Berlin.  We can’t risk it landing anywhere?”

Calla grimaced a little.  “We?”

“Yes,
we
.”

“But is that not suspicious in itself?  I’m already a suspect in Allegra’s disappearance.  Why else would the police want me?”

“You’re safe for now.  But not for long.”

Calla glared at the manuscript cradled in Taiven’s hands.

His look was one of awe and pride as if the document meant more to him than anything he owned.  “It’s very detailed.  Not what I expected.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes.”

She threw her hands in the air landing them on her thighs.  Irritated at the lack of answers, she stood up.  “I should just hand over the manuscript to ISTF.  You seem to be one of their agents anyway, or even the government.  Why shouldn’t I?”

Taiven studied her muddled face, that must have revealed traces of fatigue.  “I’m afraid ISTF isn’t as trustworthy as we would like it to be.  There are many non-compliant folks.”

“Why was the manuscript left with me and who sent it?  You?  Allegra?”

Taiven sympathized with her disarrayed burst.  “Perhaps this can help.”

He came over to her side of the desk.  “Allow me.”

From the top left drawer, he pulled out a notebook.  Calla had seen this earlier in her search around the den, but had completely ignored it assuming it was a private diary of some sort.  He flipped through a few pages before handing it to her.  “Here are some notes Allegra gathered.  The last time anyone knew of the manuscript’s whereabouts, your parents were its guardian.”

“Guardian?”

Taiven continued.  “Allegra tracked them down many years ago when she investigated the disappearance of the manuscript.  She later found them, I’m not sure how or where.”

Calla’s eyes lit up.  No one had ever spoken of her real parents.  “Allegra knew my parents?  Why has she never told me?”

“I don’t know.”

Taiven shuffled back to his seat.  “When Allegra found them, they wanted to know where you were.  She’d traced you down through the orphanage, and then through your adoptive parents.  She watched you for several years before recommending you for assignments with ISTF.  However, when she was about to let your parents know about you, they vanished without a trace.”

Every hint of weariness left Calla as her eyes followed his every movement, watching his lips to make sure nothing fell on tired ears.

Taiven’s eyes softened at the mention of the disheartening news.  “Allegra established that this manuscript is not what it seems.”

“How do you mean?”

“Its purpose is more profound.  Many have lost their lives, or even vanished, while trying to find its true nature.”

“I didn’t know people had lost their lives?  Who are these people?”

“Contrary to popular knowledge, this document has passed through several hands.  It’s a lot older than you think.”

“How do you know that?”

“For one, your grandparents were able to keep it safe during the Second World War and thereafter your parents did as well, before they vanished while on secret service mission to Russia during the Cold War.”

“Are you saying they worked for MI6?”

Taiven rubbed his chin.  “They had a special understanding of cryptic languages even those alien to most people.  Periodically, they contributed to the unsolved cases division.”

“Why?”

“Our government likes to be in the know of intelligence and happenings beyond normal realms.  It’s not only the Americans.”

Calla grabbed hold of every sentence he dropped about her parents.  Her eyes welled up, sparkling in the reflection of the recessed lighting above her.  She shifted in her seat and wiping an intrusive tear away, she edged forward.  “Taiven, are they alive?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Do you know where I can find them?  I’d hoped to speak to Allegra about them in Berlin.”

Taiven shifted uncomfortably to the other side of the room in thought.  Not wishing to show his sympathetic side. 

His voice clogged with emotion.  “All Ms. Driscoll knew about them, was that they served at MI6.  I’m so sorry, Miss Cress.”

“Oh—,” she said.

“Back to the manuscript.  You see, members of your family have been the custodians of this manuscript for centuries.  The treasure is not in the manuscript itself but, what it guards.”

Taiven’s enormous hands slid across the ancient papers spread across the table.  He pulled out a magnifying glass from the desk.  “Let’s take a closer look.”

Calla turned her attention back to the manuscript.  “What language is this, Taiven?”

“I’m not entirely sure.  But, let me see if this might help.  Allegra collected a number of cryptography systems.  I’m not sure if it's truly a language or merely a cryptogram.  But maybe we can find out.”

Calla recalled the note sent with the manuscript.  She reached for it in the back pocket of her jeans. She scanned it again word for word, hoping for additional clues.  “Taiven, this does not help much.  Did you see this?”

Taiven took the note from her hand.  “Ms. Driscoll’s instructions were to place it in the diplomatic bag.  She must’ve written it herself.”

“Does it mean anything to you?”

Taiven studied the note again before shrugging his shoulders.  “I don’t understand the language.  All I can say is that guardians are all within the same family lineage.”