Sasha got out of their rented Renault, but she didn’t seem the least bit aware of the magnificent scenery. Her attention was completely fixed on the strange device she placed on the hood of the car — really nothing more than a board on which several irregular looking quartz crystals hung suspended by fine copper wires. Roger Bacon had once possessed such a device, and he had probably stood with it on this very spot.
They had built Sasha’s version of the crystal array shortly after arriving in Paris, though hers was an upgraded model. The bare copper wires were spliced to a length of speaker wire that trailed from the microphone jack of her laptop computer. All she needed to do was push a button, and the computer would play a harmonic frequency that would vibrate in the crystals. The computer would then translate those vibrations into a graphic display, allowing for a much greater degree of precision than Bacon could ever have hoped for.
Sasha studied the display as she adjusted the position of the crystal device, just as she had done in Paris, from the roof of the hostel where they had spent their first night, and several times thereafter, to verify that they were on the correct path, following in Bacon’s footsteps.
They kept to the back roads and avoided human contact. Parker knew they were being hunted.
He gazed once more at the wooded slopes that ran up to the sheer walls of the gorge, wondering if they were being watched right now, and if so, by whom.
Sasha made a disapproving sound as she fiddled with the device. He watched her for a moment, marveling at her single-mindedness, then finally he asked, “What’s wrong?”
She pointed at the looming cliff wall to the north. “The signal is strongest in that direction, but it’s not strong enough.”
He circled around the car and looked over her shoulder. Based on her earlier calculations, they should have been practically on top of the Prime source, but sure enough, the crystals weren’t vibrating with the feverish intensity he expected. He turned the crystal array back and forth, but the action only had the effect of further diminishing the vibrations. He returned them to their original position and stared in the direction in which they were pointing.
Had Roger Bacon and Nasir al-Tusi been confronted with such a puzzle?
“Right at the cliffs,” he muttered. He tilted the array up, toward the place where the rock face met the sky, but once more the signal strength faltered.
No, not up, he realized with a growing sense of excitement.
He tipped the array so that it was angled down.
The pattern of oscillations on the screen practically exploded with intensity.
“You did it,” Sasha said, almost breathlessly.
He savored the rare praise. Despite all that he had done for her, Sasha still seemed unable to think of him in anything but the most utilitarian terms. He was a tool to help her accomplish her purpose, just as the CIA, the Delta team and even Rainer and his triad allies had been, each in their own way and without even suspecting it. This wasn’t a cynical calculation on her part; it was just how she was.
Driven.
His initial physical attraction to her had cooled somewhat over the course of their days together, but his fascination with both her intellect and her personality had grown stronger. She was an enigma, a puzzle even more intricate than the Voynich manuscript, and just as he had solved it, he would also solve her. He would give her what she wanted, and when she had it, he would unlock that part of her that was capable of compassion, friendship…and love?
Well, he could hope anyway.
Her elation faltered. “But I don’t understand. We have to go down? How is that possible?”
He scooped the array up and tucked it under one arm, then picked up the computer. “Let’s go find out.”
They left the road, skirted a small field of grape vines, and pushed into the pine forest. Parker thought he could feel the crystals vibrating against his skin. It was probably his imagination, fueled by the anticipation of success, but with each step forward, he could sense the energy of the Prime rising out of the ground, invigorating him and filling him with possibilities.
The woods ended abruptly at the foot of the cliff. Parker checked the array again; if the crystals were to be believed, the Prime lay somewhere within the limestone wall, perhaps fifty feet below them.
“Do you suppose this is as close as they got?”
Sasha’s brow furrowed, as if she had never considered this possibility.
“We could test it here,” he continued. “Try one of the formulae from the book. If it works, we’ll have our answer.”
She shook her head. “No. They found it. The book said they found it. You read it, too.”
He knew she was right. While the Voynich manuscript had been short on details about what and where the Prime was, nothing in the account suggested that Bacon and al-Tusi had been stopped short of their ultimate goal. They had found it; somehow, they had found a way into the Earth’s interior.
They skirted along the wall, scanning the rough limestone face for some shadowy niche, crevice or crack that might conceal a cave entrance. What they found instead, barely a hundred yards from where they started, was a door.
It was so incongruous that, for a few minutes, Parker could only stare in disbelief. There was a gray metal door with a U-shaped handle above a metal box with numbered buttons, pasted into a gap in the cliff face with dark concrete. It looked like the entrance to a utility corridor at a mall or an amusement park. Then he remembered where they were, and he realized what lay on the other side of the door.
He turned to Sasha, unable to contain his excitement at this revelation. “This is Chauvet Cave.”
She blinked at him, the name evidently ringing no bells.
Parker laid an almost reverent hand on the door.
Discovered in 1994, Chauvet-Pont-d’Arc Cave was the site of what was arguably the most impressive example of paleolithic art on Earth. Carbon dating of charred timbers — wood used for fires to illuminate the cave for the artists — dated back more than thirty thousand years, making the paintings in Chauvet Cave the oldest known examples of human artwork. The walls of the cave were adorned with extraordinary detailed images of horses, bears, panthers — more than a dozen different species of animals, many extinct. Some of the paintings seemed to represent mythical creatures, chimera combinations of beasts that had never actually lived on the planet, or perhaps, like the plants painted in the Voynich manuscript, had existed only here and only for a brief time.
He had read about this place in National Geographic. What was truly remarkable about the cave was how well it had been preserved. Similar discoveries across Europe, such as at the one at Lascaux, had been severely degraded by thousands of visiting tourists, but almost immediately after its discovery, Chauvet Cave had been locked up tight. Even the scientists authorized to conduct research on the site had to observe stringent procedures to minimize their impact.
Parker felt his excitement roll back like the tide. “‘Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further,’” he muttered.
“What’s that? Something from the manuscript?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s from the Bible…the Book of Job. Bacon and al-Tusi might have been able to get closer, but this is the end of the line for us.”
“It can’t be. We haven’t come this far to be turned back now. Can’t we break in?” She looked around, belatedly checking to see if they were being observed.
Parker balked momentarily at the cavalier suggestion; it wasn’t just the illegality of the action — he did illegal things on a routine basis in the interest of a greater good — but rather the immorality of it. This was a sacred place; a treasure to be preserved, not desecrated.