The Decrypter: Secret of the Lost Manuscript (Calla Cress Techno Thriller Series: Book 1) (39 page)

“I don’t remember.”

“The day they reported you were able count exactly how much money the woman in the beauty shop had in her purse, they got worried.  They started discouraging you, I think, and you never mentioned it since.”

“Do you know if it kept happening?”

He edged back.  “I’m not certain.  I think you scared them.  They didn’t want you singled out or even bullied at school.  They never mentioned it to me again, and before I knew it, you were off to Beacon Academy.”

Calla advanced towards the window.  Her somber face peered down at the slowing traffic and the London skyline above the rooftops.  She took in the vivid, bird’s eye view of the neighborhood, before shifting to face the doctor.  “Am I crazy, doctor?  Have you ever heard of such ridiculous things?”

His gaze followed her as he rose.  He drew towards her and positioned a comforting hand on her tense shoulder.  “Actually, yes.  Look here.”

He led her back to the computer, and they took their seats in front of the screen.  He stopped at an article from one of his research files.  “When Mama and Papa Cress stopped talking about it, I dismissed it as childhood escapism until I found this.”

He turned the screen her way.  “You were not alone.  After this medical paper was published, I heard of three other accounts, one as early as 1963, and one even earlier.  The details are sketchy as they were taken from a doctor’s personal journal in the 1880s.”

Calla skimmed the headline with the eagerness of a hungry wolf, while following his narrative.  The title read:

HUMAN WITH X-RAY EYES

“When was this published?” Calla asked.

“Several years ago, probably a decade now.  The patient in question must be older than you.”

“I don’t follow, this reads like a comic book account.  What happened to this boy?  Here, let me see…he was from Alaska?”

Dr. Olivier rotated the flat screen back towards him and hit a few buttons on the keyboard.  “It’s quite an extraordinary tale really.  Demyan Matthews was adopted from Kinshasa.  His parents imagined he was a boy just like any other as he grew up, yet he was mature for his age.  He learned to do things more quickly than other children did, like talking at just seven months.  At one, he could recite poetry and by three, he’d learned the alphabet and mastered how to operate a car.

“When he was ten, Demyan went to the hospital with a broken leg.  There were complications during surgery and he complained that he could see into his leg and that something had gone wrong with the operation.”

Calla studied Olivier’s face. “What was it?”

“It was discovered that cotton swabs had been left inside him.  He then had a second operation to remove the swabs.  Several months later, he began to notice that he could see inside people and objects.  He told his teacher that he saw what looked like a thick cord, two beans and an orange inside a patient.  His mother believed him.  Although Demyan didn’t know the correct words, he was describing her intestines, kidneys and the heart.”

Calla slumped back against the leather seat, listening intently. 

Dr. Olivier leaned forward.  “After this happened, on many occasions, doctors ran a battery of tests to find out if the little boy really did have x-ray vision.  In one case, Demyan drew a picture of what he saw inside a doctor’s stomach, apparently marking the exact spot where the doctor had a cyst.  He also disagreed with the diagnosis of a cancer patient, saying all she could see was a small swelling and not the colossal tumor they saw.  Further tests on the woman seemed to prove Demyan was correct.

“Incredible.”

“Demyan was brought to England by a national newspaper and allegedly, he spotted all of the fractures and metal pins in a woman who’d recently been in a road accident.  The woman was fully clothed and had no visible signs of how or where she had been injured.”

“That’s implausible!”

“I know.  It even baffles my medical mind.  Incidentally, the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal, and the affiliated Commission for Scientific Medicine and Mental Health, performed more tests on Demyan.  They needed to scientifically assess his claims.”

“What did they find?” Calla asked.

“The tests were intended as a first stage. If he could pass this, then his claims would merit further research and testing.”

“Did he?”

“I don’t know.  However, as I said, there were two separate incidents a lot earlier.  I can print all of this for you to read more.”

Dumbfounded, Calla knew she didn’t have much time to react to the news.  Any minute now, they had to leave and find the next carbonado. 

“I thought I was losing my mind, but now, I’m not sure what I think.  What does it mean?  What should I do, doctor?  Am I like this Demyan?”

“Look, Calla, I don’t want you to worry.  You know I discourage anxiety, but I have detected some abnormality in your brain tissue and blood cells over the years.  The cells appear to be rapidly developing in your brain.  I would like you to see a specialist, a friend of mine, Dr. Bertrand in Paris.”

“Who is he?”

“Besides being a distinguished professor in psychiatry, neurosciences, and psychology, he is also a Medical Institute investigator on the committees I just mentioned.”

Dr. Olivier reached for the desk phone to locate a number in the directory.  “We were fellow students in medical school, and he has personal interest in this sort of thing.  He has been studying this phenomenon for years.  I think he may shed some light on your condition.”  He gave her a consoling look.  “Calla, I’m also here to help.”

She sighed.

Do I really want to know more?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

9:00 A.M.

London Hilton Hotel,
Kensington

“If the Deveron document was in our possession, how did we lose it?”
cried the first angry debater of the five-member panel.

“How did it get all the way to Russia?  And now it’s under German jurisdiction,”
echoed the woman next to him.

The BBC 1 television station loomed audibly through the single-deluxe hotel room.

“That’s exactly my point.  That manuscript rightly belongs to Great Britain,”
blurted the journalist hosting the television broadcast.

“Ridiculous,” muttered Eichel.

Eichel had returned to his room half-wondering why the woman had bolted from him.  He was almost certain he’d seen her somewhere before, with her buoyant bounce and her chestnut, shoulder length tresses.  Could it have been in Berlin?

He was not sure.

He glimpsed back at the blaring TV set.  It was merely background noise.  Somehow, he concentrated better with some sort of clamor around him.  It must be all his years working around boisterous crime scenes and loud police stations. 

He lowered the racket, trying to shut the world out for a moment.  This hunt had turned into a drifting, disorganized case.  Now that he had left his badge on the floor of a high-powered, crime control organization, he wondered how he would be able to escape ISTF’s watch undetected.  What he thought would be a quick case, and the chance to oversee one of the grandest, cultural inaugurations in Berlin, had turned into complete mayhem. 

The news broadcast concluded and the channel proceeded with more speculation about the missing artifacts.  How had the press acquired the details of the Deveron case?

He swore. This was supposed to be a top-secret affair amongst five governments.

He was running out of clues.  Eichel marched to the closet in the cramped space beside the main entrance, found his trench coat and dug deep inside the breast pocket. 

With great caution, he drew out the photocopies and wandered back to the main room.  He spread them on the bed until the stolen information lined the entire surface area of his double bed.  He glanced over each page before making his way to the mini bar. 

Without any thought, he grabbed a small Jack Daniels bottle.  He found some ice in the icebox and poured himself a drink.  He took a sip, guzzling the soothing liqueur.  The chilled concoction rolled down his eager throat, calming his anxiety.  He emptied the glass and stared at the stacked ice cubes.

“I can’t do this!”

Eichel slammed the glass down on the table, his mind reeling back to his suspension.  The excessive drinking had started the whole mess.  He scowled at the half-empty whiskey bottle and took it to the bathroom.  Petrified of being apprehended, he emptied the remaining contents in the sink and shoved the bottle in the waste basket. He glanced in the mirror, focusing on his frosted hair.  He’d aged more than he had wanted.  This is not where he was supposed to be at this point in life.

If he was going to secure the permanent chief spot, he needed to solve the Priam and Deveron disappearances.  The last thing he needed was a relapse into drinking.  His title would be stripped if he did not deliver the desired results.  Or worse, possibly lose his job. 

He frowned, perching over the porcelain sink.  His reflection interrogated him. 
What has gone wrong?  What clue have you not examined?  Why have you resolved to stealing evidence from ISTF?  You’ll be caught!  Well, maybe they deserve it!

He had come in good faith.  They’d not been willing to cooperate.  They, meaning Mason Laskfell - a man he had once admired greatly.  Mason represented everything he aspired to be: brilliant, canny and efficient.

Eichel threw some cold water in his face and wiped the dampness with the towel provided. He strolled back to the bedroom.  With the TV racket beginning to annoy him, he switched off the clamor and sat on the edge of the bed.  Scattered papers stared at him and agitated his baffled mind.  Heavy eyelids shut out light as he reclined, lowering against the pliable pillows.

A thought drew his attention.

“Why did I not think of this before?”  He sprang to an upright position.  “What was in those damn notes?

Determined, he picked up the page in question.  There in the file report, he read it again.

AGENTS COPPER J21 and SILVER X3

KV2/9681

Agent Silver X3 and Copper J21, are in possession of the Deveron Manuscript.  Its origin has not been determined.

According to SILVER X3, the Deveron details the whereabouts of distinct carbonados.  Carbonado diamonds are relatively porous masses of fine-grained diamond, mixed with graphite and other rare minerals.  They were first found in 1843 in Bahia, Brazil.  Some have been found in Central Africa.

The origin of carbonados remains debatable; one clue is the presence of odd minerals such as silicon carbide, pure titanium metal, and pure silicon metal and iron-chromium alloy.  Recent research suggests that carbonados are not necessarily formed by a meteorite impact, but may possibly be fragments of a meteorite from beyond our galaxy.

MI6 - OPERATION STAR

The agents working with NASA and Vladimir Merkov, a scientist and Russian defector, are to verify if fragments of a cooled star could survive, traveling across billions of miles to Earth.  They’ll determine whether carbonados possess nuclear compositions unknown to man.

OPERATION MEADOW:

Silver X3 reports, having established the whereabouts of one carbonado, whose composition he verified as “unnatural.”

NOTES:

X3 and J21 have periodically been paired on other difficult cases.

Eichel stretched his arms and reached for a section of the report that contained a photo.  The caption read:

Copper J21 - Missing in Action.

The long-haired woman in the black and white headshot impressed him with her determined expression.  She resembled an inquiring child.  Her resolute stare pierced his mind, distracting him from what he thought was an intelligent brain behind her charade.  He’d seen several, female secret agent mug shots in his line of work, but none appeared so unwavering.  Her round face and rather oversized eyes gleamed with passion and empathy.

He searched for a photo of SILVER X3, but none was evident in the spread of papers on the bed.  He studied the paper with the woman’s information:

COPPER J21

Legal name
: Not Registered/NA

Special skills
: Knowledge of 24 languages and 12 ancient dialects;

Experience:
Modern military communications techniques; procedures for processing and distributing intelligence data; methods for handling, distributing and safeguarding military information.  Deciphering clues and translation.

Other
: Possibly deceased.  Missing in action during a routine procedure in Russia.  Body not found.

File closed
: 10 June, 1964

The report stopped there.