Trifariam, The Lost Codex (2012) (5 page)

James looked at the two attackers out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge how far they were from him. They knew about the book and they seemed prepared to kill him if necessary. But how was this possible? He hadn’t discovered it until about ten minutes ago!

“Go to the living room!” ordered his accomplice, indicating where he had to go with the machine gun. This was even stranger because it meant that they knew the layout of the house perfectly.

Confused, he went through the living room doorway and stood still in front of the chimney. His eyes showed fear, terror at what was coming next. Behind him followed the two assailants. The blonde man grabbed his shoulder and forced him to kneel with his arms raised, hands behind his head and eyes fixed on the chimney. The other simply stroked his neck with the sharpened point of a dagger while he squeezed the cold metal of a revolver barrel against his temple.

“I’m going to be honest with you. We’re going to kill you because you know too much,” declared the one who seemed to be the boss. “You will decide how you are going to die. If you tell us where the book is, we’ll shoot you once in the head. But if you don’t tell us, we’ll cut you up with this knife. We’ll make lots of tiny but painful little cuts so that you stay alive as long as possible. The agony will be intolerable and you’ll eventually die. If you cling to life, we’ll make you eat your own guts. We’ll rip off your skin and stuff it in your mouth. You will suffer tremendously.”

The marble remains strewn around the chimney looked as if something had been stored there for many years before somebody had finally found it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about - I’m only a university professor. I rented the house yesterday and when I arrived, everything was destroyed. I thought that the owner had been doing up the house so I decided not to move anything.”

“Shut it, you piece of shit!” shouted the dark-skinned man who seemed to be on another planet. His jaw was clenched and his mouth twisted to the point of making his face deformed; he knew perfectly well that he was lying. “We’ve been watching you since you arrived, we saw how you broke the chimney breast and took out a key which you used to open that chest. I won’t tell you again! Give us the book or I myself will give you an autopsy while you’re still breathing!”

Reality was settling in, and the gravity of the situation began to dawn on James. They wouldn’t let him out of that room alive and, if he didn’t give them the book, they would make him suffer until he died. “I don’t know what book you’re talking about,” he repeated in a ridiculous act of bravery.

Alpha 1 grew furious and broke off from the discussion to turn to his accomplice. “You asked for it. Go and fetch the ‘toolbox’. It’s in the trunk.”

Alpha 2 slowly slid the tip of the knife to the most sensitive part of his neck and made a professional cut with a swift flick of the wrist. A small stream of blood began to trickle from the wound, giving him a taste of what was to come. Then he ran off through the living room door.

Meanwhile James looked down, closed his eyes and couldn’t help but shed a few tears which rolled down his cheeks and onto the floor. “Why do you want that book? What is it hiding?”

“That’s no concern of yours. If I were you, I’d be more bothered about suffering as little as possible. You’re going to die Mr. Oldrich, you can be sure of that. Besides, your daughter’s life is also at stake. If you don’t give us what we want, your daughter will have a really bad time.”

Those last words had caught him completely off guard. Not only did they know who he was, but they also knew about his life and they wouldn’t hesitate to kill his daughter to get what they were looking for. They were absolute animals.
Your daughter will have a really bad time.
That sentence had hurt him so much. He was broken, in total despair. He just hoped that Mary had escaped through the kitchen window, since those two had not realized that she had been there.

It was decided, he would give them the book. At least that way Lily would be safe.

Under the uneasy watch of the assassin, the young man had lifted up his shirt and taken the book out from his pants. As he stretched out his arm to give it to them, there was a loud noise and then the enormous thud of a body hitting the floor.

Not knowing what was going on, he turned to see Mary frozen with fear just behind him. At her feet, a wooden chest, covered in blood, was resting on the parquet floor.

“Quick! We have to get away, the other one will be back soon!” she yelled, gripped in the midst of a panic attack while she stretched out her arm to James, helping him to his feet.

James was still in a state of shock; he couldn’t coordinate his movements and he seemed unable to walk. A distant noise, similar to that of the trunk of a van being slammed shut, left them unable to breathe. “It’s coming from the back. They must have everything there so they won’t have seen your car.”

They ran out the main door and headed for the Citroen C4 which was parked just in front of the fence which cordoned off the plot of land.

“Get in quick, or those two will slice us up like a couple of pigs.”

The girl was so nervous that she couldn’t stop screaming, fear blocked her thoughts and prevented her from acting calmly. She tried to insert the key into the lock, but it seemed as if it had suddenly been stretched two inches and she couldn’t manage to get it into the slot. Meanwhile, James had got into the vehicle as quick as a flash. He turned his head round to the left and noticed how one of the killers was staggering out of the house with the machine gun hoisted upon his right arm. He was patting his head, completely soaked in blood, and his eyes radiated immense hatred. He aimed the weapon just as Mary started the car and a thick cloud of black smoke emerged from the exhaust pipe. The burst of machine gun fire blasted through all the windows and part of the bodywork, but they were unhurt.

The young woman stepped on the accelerator as hard as she could, crouching down so as to avoid being hit by gunfire.

Gripped by fear, James looked into one of the rear-view mirrors to see if they had decided to follow them, but the only thing he saw was the blond man taking his cellphone out of his pocket.

On the other side of the world, in a luxurious office, a man was waiting for the most important call of the last few months. He leaned back in his leather chair with his feet stretched out upon the table. In his right hand he held a glass of brandy while he stared at a painting hanging on one of the office walls.

Suddenly his phone rang. The screen showed “Number withheld”.

“Hello?”

“It’s us.”

“Well?”

“Everything has turned out perfectly. The professor has managed to escape with the book just how you ordered. But he’s not alone - a woman has escaped with him. What do we do? Do we stick to the plan?”

“Excellent!” replied the boss, smiling and punching the air in triumph. “Don’t do them any harm for the time being. They could be very useful to us. Monitor them and don’t let them out of your sight.” The man then hung up the phone and treated himself to a large glug of brandy while he mused on everything that had happened.

Let the games begin.

T
he Citroen C4 zigzagged through the streets at great speed. Full of bullet holes, scratches and broken glass, its appearance made it impossible to pass by unnoticed.

James leaned back in one of the rear seats. His hands still hadn’t stopped trembling and he had a terrible sinking feeling. He expected the shots to ring out again any minute now, and he was on high alert.

The car swerved sharply left. Mary cut the corner so much that the tire clipped the edge of the sidewalk and, although she lost control of the car for a brief moment, she regained it thanks to her natural skill. Seeing that this was no time for games, James decided to adjust his seatbelt.

“I don’t think they’re following us. I must have hit that bastard hard.” She kept glancing in the rear-view mirror more often than normal to check if they were behind. “James, are you ok? You’re very pale.”

He responded sarcastically. “What do you think? They came into my house, they aimed a machine gun at my head and convinced me that I wasn’t going to make it out of there alive and, to cap it all, I escaped with a psychopath and there’s a high chance I’ll end up splattered across some wall like graffiti.”

No sooner had he said those words than Mary took a new corner, this time turning left, and James was yet again thrown against the window. At that moment, the young woman clearly picked up on the sarcasm in his words and she slowed down considerably without taking her eyes off the rear-view mirror. She didn’t want any last minute surprises, not least when they would soon be arriving at her house.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“They didn’t realize that I was in the house, so they don’t know who I am and would hardly be able to recognize me or find out where I live. The chest must have given that bastard a real headache, he won’t be able to think straight for two weeks.” The archaeologist’s laughter calmed the nervous professor. “Don’t worry. I have a small flat just here. But first we have to hide the car - I guess the bullet holes are rather distinctive.”

The Citroen C4 went down the access ramp into an underground garage. The door was closed, but it opened when the girl swiped her magnetic card through the reader. She put her foot down before the door was fully open and as the entrance space was still rather small, she couldn’t help getting another scratch on the car, this time on one of the side doors. James looked at her with resignation.

“No problem. I’ve been thinking of getting a new car for the last five minutes.”

The elevator took them straight from the parking garage to the door of the apartment without them having to go out onto the street.

She lived in a small, cozy apartment. The first thing visitors saw upon entering was a beautiful hallway, both sides of which were lined by stunning canvases. There were two doors right there in the corridor - one led to the kitchen, and the other on the right to a huge living room. The latter was decorated with several
souvenirs
acquired over the course of the many trips she had made to different countries, revealing Mary’s adventurous lifestyle. It was more of a living and dining room as it had two different areas. On one side was a beautiful oak dining room beneath a hanging lamp with Swarovski crystals; on the other side, a couple of sofas and a table next to a forty-two inch LCD television, illuminated by six small spotlights above. The two areas were decorated perfectly with a couple of Persian rugs in different colors, providing a nice contrast.

The house only had two rooms, enough for a single woman. Both had fitted closets and one of them had an en-suite bathroom, as well as an adjoining WC for guests.

“Nice house,” he said without taking his eyes off one of the pieces sitting on top of the living room table.

“It is a statue of Hestia,” answered Mary, preempting his next question. “She is the sister of Zeus. She was a domestic goddess, considered by Greeks to be the protector of the home. I bought it on one of my trips to Greece and I’ve felt safer at night ever since.”

“I see that you like African culture.”

The wall was covered with masks from the continent, many of them used in ancient rituals.

“In all honesty, African culture fascinates me. They live without any kind of electronic equipment and they are just as happy as us, if not more so. Maybe we could learn something from them.”

James nodded and leant back on one of the sofas.

“But… can you tell me why I risked my life to save yours? Who were those two guerrillas?”

“I have no idea, I’d never seen them before. I don’t belong to any terrorist group, if that’s what’s worrying you. Nor do I have any unfinished business with the mafia. The truth is I don’t know what they wanted.”

“I heard from the kitchen that they were asking you for a book. And that book is so important that you were prepared to die for it? What is inside?”

James looked her in the eye, searching for some flicker of complicity. Her eyes were beautiful and they shone with kindness. If it hadn’t been for her, he would be dead right now. But, even though she had saved his life, he didn’t know if he could trust her. Feeling more wary than he liked, he loosened the belt of his pants and put his hands inside, much to Mary’s surprise. Only too aware of how this looked, he tried to take the book out as quickly as he could.

“What is that?” she asked.

“I found it in your house before you rang the doorbell. I had to destroy the chimney to get the key which was hidden in a secret compartment, and which opens the old chest in the living room. It was there that I found the book.”

The young woman was silent, listening to the story James was telling her while her fingers stroked the symbol on the outer cover. Judging by her facial expression, she seemed not to have known that the chest had a hidden lock.

“I haven’t had much time to read what is written inside. In fact, even if I had I wouldn’t have understood anything.”

“Why?” she asked, but after opening it she understood.

“It’s written in some kind of foreign language; I don’t understand a single letter. I’d say that it is in some kind of grammar which has remained undiscovered up until now, and probably was used by an elite group of people to communicate with each other without revealing the meaning of the message.”

Mary seemed disappointed, even though she had stopped listened to his story.

“I went to see Michelangelo’s David in the morning. One of the museum guides was telling the tourists a rather far-fetched story. I didn’t believe a word of it until I got home and I found the items mentioned in the story in different parts of the living room.”

“Is that why you broke the chimney?”

“Exactly! To be honest, I didn’t think I’d find anything and I was toying with the idea of repairing it before you realized, but when I found the key I was ecstatic. What do you know about the house and its furniture?”

“It belonged to my grandfather,” she replied, giving him back the book. “My father died in suspicious circumstances when I was ten years old and my family thinks he was murdered. Some months back, my grandfather gave it to me a present before he died. He told me to look after it and swear that I wouldn’t ever tell anybody about what was inside, or I would regret it forever. He made me promise on his deathbed and I had no choice. Since then, I’ve looked after the house as best I could, but I don’t have much money so it has been impossible for me to renovate it. I decided to rent it out to make a bit of extra money, and use that to do the house up little by little. You, Mr. Oldrich, are the first to rent the house.”