He shook off the thought. “Based on a cursory look, I’d agree it’s the Voynich. I don’t think there’s any doubt about that, based on the drawings and the calligraphy, not to mention the age. Your father would have recognized it as such instantly. But I’m not seeing anything that’s jumping out at me as earth-shattering, beyond the fact that these pages exist at all,” Steven explained.
“Take your time. There has to be something here,” Natalie pressed.
Steven shook his head. “Why? Why are you so convinced these pages hold some sort of solution to the Voynich, when they appear to be almost exactly like the other two hundred forty pages on display at Yale?” Steven reached over and moved his computer mouse. The large flat screen monitor blinked to life. He typed in a password and selected a folder labeled: ‘Crypto’ and then drilled down until he got to one marked: ‘VMan’. He opened a web browser, and within a few moments the screen was filled with high-resolution images of the pages of the Voynich Manuscript. He quickly went to quire 17 and scrolled through the photos, which looked similar to the pages on his table.
Ignoring Steven’s question, Natalie said, “Quire 17 doesn’t have any nudes in it, and neither does 19. Maybe there’s some significance to the two nude women in 18?”
“Then perhaps there’s some significance wherever they appear in the manuscript. If there is, it’s defied researchers, including me, since the Voynich surfaced. I think that’s a dead-end in terms of something unique to this quire.” Steven stopped and turned to Natalie, their faces only inches apart as they both hunched over the desk. “Why don’t you answer my original question, Natalie? Why are you convinced there’s something special in these pages?”
She held his gaze, then moved a few feet from him — the proximity was too intimate for her to dodge Steven’s reasonable query.
“My father was killed for them, and Frank considered the Scroll to be priceless,” she stated flatly.
He shook his head. “You think. You’re of the opinion he was killed for them. But you don’t know.”
“I know,” Natalie insisted.
Steven decided to let that go. There was nothing to be gained by pointing out the difference between a strongly-held conviction and a provable fact. He knew the tone she had adopted, and logic was the wrong approach if he wanted answers.
“Okay. I believe you’re convinced your father was killed for these pages.”
“Don’t patronize me, Dr. Cross,” Natalie admonished him, pain and anger now evident in her eyes.
“I…look, I’m sorry. We’re getting off on the wrong foot here. What I meant was I believe you. But you came to me because you obviously want my help in figuring out what the significance of these pages is — I didn’t come to you. But if you trust me enough to show me this stolen quire,” he held up a hand to silence her protest at the word ‘stolen’, “you’re going to have to trust me enough to tell me everything you know. Otherwise, I’m fumbling in the dark, and that won’t do either of us any good.” Steven stopped, waiting to see what effect an appeal to reason would have on Natalie.
She hesitated, then looked away. “This was important enough to have armed guards protecting it for hundreds of years in a secret section of the Abbey,” she revealed.
“How do you know that?” Steven demanded.
“I’m not inventing it. My father and Frank discovered a lot about these pages. Enough to pay millions of dollars to get their hands on them,” Natalie concluded.
“Millions? Are you kidding me? They couldn’t give the Voynich away forty years ago. That’s why it was donated to Yale. It had no value, other than as an historical curiosity…”
“That may be, but I can assure you that my father was not a foolish or impulsive man, and his partner in this, Morbius Frank, is as ruthless and cunning as they come. They both believed that they were getting the bargain of a lifetime by paying seven figures for information that enabled them to get their hands on the Scroll. Whatever the Voynich may or may not be worth, it’s clear that there’s something in these pages that’s far bigger than you can imagine.”
“It sounds like you know a lot more about this than what you are letting on, Ms. Tw…Natalie.”
“Here’s what I know. This canister contains a secret so important that even more than five centuries after the Scroll was written it was still being guarded twenty-four hours a day by an elite order of the Catholic Church. Year after year, through wars, famines, plagues, changes in governments and ideologies, the secret was kept, and generations of protectors lived and died,” Natalie explained.
“That sounds far-fetched—”
She held up a hand. “You’ve listened to me so far; hear me out. It’s also pretty far-fetched that an American woman would show up on your Italian doorstep with missing pages of one of your fascinations, isn’t it? I know how unbelievable this must sound, but everything I’m telling you is the truth.”
“Who were these ‘protectors’, Natalie? And how do you know what you claim you know?” Steven asked.
“Just let me finish. They call themselves the Order of the Holy Relic, and they don’t exist in any church records. My father learned of them from Frank, who’d spent decades cultivating contacts and following up on threads and rumors. Eventually, he found a chink in their armor and was able to confirm that the Order was still active. From what my father explained, it had to do with money. Frank met with my father multiple times and revealed to him that, whatever the Scroll was, it was connected to the Voynich, which is where his knowledge came into play. That’s how the uneasy partnership began, with my father vetting all the information Frank had unearthed.”
“You’re serious about all this? A secret society protecting a relic so powerful the world would end if it ever got out, and it winds up in your dad’s lap?” Steven wasn’t trying to be rude, but to say it danced on the edge of credibility was tame.
“Dr. Cross, I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. My father was the smartest man I’ve ever met, and he was every bit as skeptical as you, but by the end of this, he understood every word I just told you to be completely true.” Natalie reached for the Scroll. “Maybe coming here was a bad idea. I don’t know what I was expecting, but you’re not it. This was a mistake. I’m sorry to have wasted your valuable time,” she said, gathering up the pages.
“Whoa. Wait a second. I’m expressing justifiable skepticism at some unbelievable claims. I don’t think that’s unreasonable. So before you run off the rails here, just give me some time to absorb all this. The parchment appears to be genuine, so that’s a huge plus in favor of your story,” Steven offered.
“It’s all true, and I can tell you that I’m in danger now because of what I know. And yes, I need your help, but I’m also trying to warn you that you’re also at risk because of the letter you wrote to my father. Frank, or whoever he had murder my father, had to have seen it, and my father’s interest in the letter couldn’t have escaped them, given that he was reading it when he was killed.”
“If he was killed,” Steven corrected.
“When he was killed. And that means that you’ll be on a shortlist, because they don’t know where the Scroll is, or what it really contains, or who my father was having help him. So this isn’t just about me or some crazy conspiracy. This is about the same people who killed my father showing up on your doorstep to find out what you do and don’t know. I’m betting Frank’s henchmen don’t ask polite questions and then apologize for disturbing you. These pages were worth millions to them. You really think they won’t torture and kill to get them?” Natalie asked.