Prime (Chess Team Adventure, #0.5)

The big man didn’t say a word, but unfolded himself from the cramped burrow, and fell into step right behind him. They crossed the open ground in less than a minute and joined Queen at the large doorframe set into the west side of the dome, which provided the only access to its interior.

Queen tried the door—locked—and then produced a set of lock-picking tools. King felt a momentary twinge at the sight; Parker had always been his go-to guy for opening doors, and watching someone else do the job was a reminder of the hard choice to leave his friend behind. He still believed it was the right decision, and he hoped Parker would eventually understand that.

The door knob yielded to Queen’s efforts, and she eased it open a crack, watching and waiting for an alarm to sound. When that did not happen, she swung the door wide and moved inside.

The interior of the dome looked little different than the surrounding terrain. There were few structures inside; all that remained of the Maragheh Observatory were the cut stone foundations and a few crumbling walls. The trio of intruders fanned out, familiarizing themselves with the ruin under the dome, identifying several places where the archaeological team had begun the two-fold task of excavation and restoration, and more importantly, verifying that the site was not being actively monitored with remote surveillance devices. After about ten minutes of reconnaissance, they regrouped at the first dig site and descended a cut stone staircase into a sub-chamber.

A scattering of artifacts—strange devices and machines that had once been used to map the night sky—were arrayed on folding tables, but there was no indication that the room had once been a repository of documents. King photographed everything with a digital camera, then gestured for the others to follow him back out.

The second site, another subterranean chamber, had been only partially excavated, but the artifacts that had been recovered were strictly utilitarian—cooking utensils and pots, plates and cups. They moved on.

The next site was very different. The vast stone room had been completely excavated, revealing a maze of wooden shelves, the wood splintered and decaying, but nevertheless laden with ceramic tubes and leather chests. More interesting however, was a collection of tables with a dizzying array of modern laboratory equipment and hibernating computers.

King swept the room with the beam of his flashlight, which had been equipped with a dark filter that emitted only infrared light—invisible to the naked eye. He saw paper tags, inscribed with elegant modern Persian script, affixed to the shelves.

“Bishop. What do those tags say?”

The big man scanned a few of them. “Numbers and letters.”

“Some kind of filing system?” ventured Queen.

King nodded and gestured to the tables at the center. “See if you can find the catalogue.”

Bishop stared at him. “Me?”

“You’re Iranian aren’t you?”

“I grew up in Illinois.”

Queen snorted in amusement.

Behind his night-vision goggles, King rolled his eyes. “I read your file. It says you speak Farsi.”

“I took a couple of classes. I know how to order coffee and ask for the restroom.” Bishop heaved a sigh. “I’ll do my best.”

As Bishop began flipping through notepads and ring-binders, perusing their contents with no evident confusion, King decided that his teammate was either selling himself short or he had picked up more in those classes than even he realized.

“I’m looking for anything written by al-Tusi, right?” the big man said after a few minutes. “There’s a lot here. Is there any way to narrow it down?”

Before King could initiate a call to Parker, his earpiece crackled with an incoming transmission. It was Rook. “King, there’s a vehicle approaching. You’re about to have company.”





THIRTY-SEVEN


Incirlik Air Base, Turkey



The passage of time did not cool Daniel Parker’s ire. Instead, the longer he sat, alone with his thoughts, chewing the gristle of his bitterness, the more convinced he became that his old friend had forsaken him. Why exactly, he could not say. Maybe King was enamored with his new teammates…maybe just having me around reminds him how badly he bungled the last mission…

Yes, that had to be it.

Maybe he’s trying to cover his ass, put the blame for the screw-up in Myanmar onto me, somehow.

Damn him.

He didn’t buy for a second King’s story about needing him to decode the Voynich manuscript. King didn’t really believe there was anything worthwhile in the mysterious old book; its only value to him was the fact that Kevin Rainer seemed to care about it.

That thought gave Parker pause. Maybe King wasn’t a believer, but Sasha definitely thought the book was important, and that was reason enough to take it seriously.