‘Y-yes … sure.’ A moment later a bedside lamp snicked on.
The room was as small and as messy as she’d expected. But the walls … the walls caught her breath. She’d done a couple of terms of college before dropping out and getting a programming job. She’d had a room like this once and covered its walls with posters of sci-fi movies she loved like Aliens, Predator, Serenity, computer games, bands and stuff.
But this — this was plain weird.
All four walls seemed to be covered with sheets of paper filled by the handwritten scrawl of strange-looking hieroglyphics.
‘So you’re pretty keen on — what? Egyptian stuff, then?’ she said, breaking the silence.
‘Uh … oh … yeah. No, it’s not hieroglyphics. I’m into cryptanalysis.’ He turned back to her. ‘You — you said you’re theone, right? That’s w-who you are? The one who explains it?’
Now they were through the door, she decided it was going to be best to come clean and confess she really didn’t know much, if anything. ‘Adam, we’re here because of a message you posted on the Net.’
‘Net?’
Maddy shook her head. Of course, back in 1994 they called it the Web. A different language for the technology they took for granted in 2010. ‘You posted on the university’s public forum that you’d decoded a complete sentence of the …’ She forgot the name of the thing.
‘The Voynich Manuscript,’ said Becks, helping her out.
He nodded his head vigorously. ‘Yes … yes. I did! That’s what, that’s exactly what I was instructed to do. I–I did exactly what I was told. I did what — ’
‘Told? Told? By who?’
Adam looked from Maddy to Becks, then back again, completely bewildered. ‘By you? … I was kind of thinking you’re involved?’
‘Not me.’ Maddy shook her head. ‘I never heard of the Voynich Manuscript until last night.’
Adam still appeared completely on edge and wary of them both. ‘Never heard of it?’
‘Nope.’
He licked dry lips. ‘So you can’t be the one. You can’t tell me why my name’s in the — ’
Maddy raised her hands to calm him down. ‘I know about Pandora, Adam. I know that much.’
He regarded her suspiciously.
‘You’re involved … us too, in whatever this means. I’m just trying to make some sense of it. I need to know what it means too. Please,’ she said softly, ‘please … why don’t you tell me about this Voynich document?’
His eyes flickered uncertainly from her to Becks.
‘Please?’ She spread her hands in a disarming way. ‘Then maybe the three of us can figure this out together? Huh?’
‘Yeah, sure.’ He seemed relieved at the suggestion, relieved to have somebody else to share what he knew.
As an afterthought he nodded towards a stool and a beanbag. ‘Want to sit down?’
Maddy smiled. ‘Thanks.’ She unzipped her anorak and laid it on the bed and gestured to Becks to settle down on the beanbag. She was going to look less intimidating that way than standing over them both like a guard dog.
‘So?’ Maddy looked at Adam expectantly.
He sat down on the end of his bed. ‘It’s the ultimate challenge for code-breakers,’ he started. ‘It’s a several-hundred-pages-long document that’s been carbon-dated back to the twelfth century and the entire volume is written in a completely unknown language. I mean the whole thing … is a bunch of characters and glyphs that have never been used in any other written form.’
Adam’s ragged nerves seemed to be settling a little. ‘People have been trying to decipher this thing since the seventeenth century when it was first discovered. It’s been floating around from one archived library to another. Spent a hundred years or so in the papal library in Rome until the Jesuit order desperately needed some cash and flogged off a whole section of their library in 1912. It was a job-lot bought by a trader in old manuscripts called Wilfrid Voynich. He found it buried among crates of old papal paperwork. He had it for a while, and tried selling it on to various collectors. He realized there was something very special about it. He never did manage to sell it, though.’
‘What happened to it?’
‘He died in 1930, left it to his wife. She died in 1960 and left it to a friend who sold it to another dealer, a bloke called Hans Kraus. Like Voynich, he took it around a bunch of collectors hoping to make some money, but no one took it. Eventually Kraus donated it to Yale University in 1969.’ He opened a bottle of flat, weak Pepsi and took a gulp. ‘And that’s when it became public domain. And ever since then code-breakers, linguistic hackers have all been having a go at it.’ He offered the Pepsi to Maddy. She nodded and took a polite sip.
‘It really is the most incredible coded document in history,’ he continued. ‘No one — I mean no one — has managed to extract even a single meaningful sentence from it, not even a single word.’
‘Until you did.’
He nodded. ‘Until I managed to decipher that, uhh … that bit, yeah.’
‘Information,’ said Becks. ‘Adam Lewis is exhibiting behavioural stress indicators. He is concealing truth from you, Maddy.’
Adam looked at her, suspiciously. ‘Are you two some sort of secret-service types?’
Maddy laughed. ‘God, no!’ She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Becks here is pretty paranoid. She’s good at spotting things like this. So … is she right? Is there something you’re not telling me, Adam?’
‘I …’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a fisherman’s float. ‘OK … all right, I–I deciphered a little more than the sentences I made public.’
‘How much more?’
He looked up uncertainly at Maddy. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’
Maddy shook her head. ‘I can’t help you make sense of this unless you tell us what you’ve got, Adam.’ She looked at him, then around the room. Clearly the poor young man had been holed up in here for too many days. Presumably too frightened to step outside. ‘You want someone to share this with, don’t you?’
His head nodded vigorously. ‘I … yes. Actually, I’m totally freaked. This is seriously hardcore. I … yes. Jesus, tell me you can make sense of this stuff, tell me!’
‘We’ll do our best, Adam. Just let me know what you decoded.’
He licked his lips again, took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. ‘All right, then … OK, this is how it goes.’ He took another slurp from the two-litre bottle of Pepsi.
‘You must make public the last part of this message, Adam Lewis, and I promise you someone will come and explain everything. When she comes, it is important you tell her this: “Seek Cabot at Kirklees in 1194”. Do not reveal any more of this message to anyone else. The last part now follows. Pandora is the word. The word leads to truth. Fellow traveller, time to come and find it.’
‘That’s all of it?’
He nodded.
Maddy turned to Becks. ‘What do you think?’
‘At this time I can offer no data.’
Adam stood up. ‘I really have to go pee. You’re gonna stick around, right?’
Maddy nodded and watched him tiptoe across the messy floor and open the door to an equally grubby bathroom. She waited until she heard the door lock click before turning to Becks. ‘My God, Becks — this Voynich Manuscript, it’s a drop-point document! It has to be! It’s got to be another team, do you think?’
Becks’s eyes fluttered — processing going on inside. ‘This is possible. It is also possible this is a document that will be used at a later date by your team.’
Maddy shook her head. ‘No, there’s no way I’d use it now. Because it’s … look, now I know it’s been decoded by some teen hacker, I certainly wouldn’t allow Liam to use it to talk through time to us. Not now we know it’s compromised, that it’s been hacked. And I’ll tell Liam when we get back, of course. So, look, whatever happens in the future, we know we can’t use it. Therefore it has to be someone else.’