“And?” Jake prompted.
“He might be able to read it. Unfortunately, the Voynich manuscript was stolen before I got to New Haven, so I couldn't
test that theory. But there's definitely something odd going on.”
“The book was stolen? From the Yale library?”
“Yep.”
“Wouldn't that be pretty tough to do?”
“I think so,” said Benicio.
Jake waited for more explanation but saw he wouldn't get any. “So, if the book's gone, now what?”
“I don't know. Apparently, there are copies of the whole book available online as well as other info on the Voynich. I haven't had a chance to check.”
“Okay, but what about this kid? How could he read a book nobody else can?”
“Well, as I said, he's autistic. That's why I thought of you. I took the college classes, but I don't remember much about autism. I was hoping you kept up to date on your child psych.”
“Nope. I've only worked with a few kids.” He and Benicio watched Matthew. The boy never moved a muscle.
Benicio sighed, then said, “I suspect the church is afraid of what's in the manuscript. I think they don't want anyone to read it, ever. I think they'll do anything to keep that from happening.”
“Anything?” Jake asked in a stagy, ominous voice.
Benicio nodded.
Jake was suddenly serious. “They want to kill the boy?”
“I can't be sure.”
“And so you just took him? That's why you're in trouble with the church â you kidnapped the kid?”
“I felt I didn't have a choice. His foster parents were going to sell him for ten thousand dollars â then the Vatican sent those goons to get him, and the goons probably killed Father McCallum. I liked the old guy, Jake. He's spent his whole life working for the Vatican, watching the book, and the church tries to kill him. None of this is right. I needed help. And there's no one I trust more than you.”
Both men looked at Matthew. He hadn't moved.
When Jake spoke, his voice was calm and measured. “Tell me again how this boy could read an unknown language.”
“I've been thinking about that. Do you remember we learned about speech development in our child courses? I think he can see patterns in the book that no one else can see.” Benicio waited for an acknowledgment, but when there was none he continued. “Do you remember anything about speech development from our child courses?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, I remembered reading about how complicated speech development is for young children, yet they pick it up so easily. Learning the rules of a language and being able to apply them by the age of two or three â it's nothing short of a miracle.”
“I hadn't thought of it that way,” Jake said slowly, “but you're right.”
“Psychology tells us that humans are born with two unusual gifts: speech and written language. Humans are pre-wired to speak and read.”
Jake nodded.
“Well, why should our brains be pre-wired for only one language? Maybe some people's minds are built to understand other languages, but because those languages are obscure or not used anymore, those people don't even know about their special gift.”
“So there might be things we could read automatically, without any training? Our brains are ready to interpret languages we've never even seen?”
“Yes,” Benicio said excitedly. “That's exactly what I mean! Language is an automatic process. Our minds read and understand things, and we don't have to do any work.” He leaned over and took a piece of paper and a pen from the desk, wrote a few lines then handed the paper to Jake. “What does this say?”
U wn't hve any prblm rdng ths.
Rdng is a fnny thng nd we do it automtclly.
Jake read it out loud and smiled. “I see what you're saying. Our minds automatically try to make sense out of the world around us, fill in gaps and put meaning where there isn't any. And we do that even with language.”
“And that isn't a learned ability,” Benicio said. “Neither is speaking in tongues â it's a phenomenon that borrows from the way our brains are wired to interpret meaning in things around us. Looking at it in that way, the phenomenon of recognizing a language we don't understand isn't so bizarre. It's really a matter of using natural mechanisms that are already programmed.”
“Okay,” Jake said, “but why is the book so important?”
“Because it's about that Old Testament stuff, about angels having sex with women and the women giving birth to human angels. The church thinks Matthew is half angel and half man.”
“No wonder you wanted to get the kid away from them.”
Benicio nodded.
“So what can I do?” Jake asked.
“I wish I knew, my friend. I needed to get Matthew away. I knew the church was coming for him, and to be quite honest I've felt a little over my head with an autistic child. I thought you'd be better equipped to advise me.”
“Because I have children of my own, or because I work as a clinical psychologist?”
“Both.”
“You know I'd do anything for you. If you guys want to stay at the house or borrow my car or whatever â name it. The one thing I don't have much of right now is time. Wyatt's in the hospital and going for surgery tomorrow.”
“I understand.” Benicio stood. “I know everything will work out with Wyatt. I'm sure of it. You should focus your energy there.”
“No. I'll help you any way I can. I'm just saying â”
“That's fine,” Benicio interrupted. “I've got a few things to check on. Then I'll call you.”
“You know what, I've got just a couple more patients to deal with and then I could spare a little time. Why don't the three of us go look up this Voynich on the Internet. I can meet you at Dalhousie University and we can use my computer account there.”
Benicio didn't look convinced.
“I really am interested,” Jake continued. “We can check this thing out online and then you and the boy will come stay at my place.”
Relief washed over Benicio. “Thank you very much, Jake. I knew I could count on you.”
“Now get out of here so I can finish up. I'll meet you in front of the Dal library in two hours.”
Benicio looked like he was going to say something more, but stopped. He turned and moved to the waiting room. Matthew fell into step with Benicio and they left.
Jake wanted to cancel the rest of his appointments. He doubted he could concentrate after his meeting with Ben. He also felt a twinge of guilt that he wasn't going straight to the hospital, but he wasn't going to leave Benicio hanging. He looked at his watch.
Screw it, I'm going to get out of here
. He called his only remaining patient of the day, rescheduled, then grabbed his jacket. He'd stop by the hospital before meeting Benicio at Dal. The hospital was on the way to Dal anyway.
He went down the stairs and pushed into the stone lobby of the building. There wasn't usually much foot traffic, but he noticed a couple of rough, unkempt-looking guys heading across the lobby toward him. The larger man was pale and sickly looking, with a ragged eye patch. The slightly smaller, thinner man had a lopsided grin over dry lips.
“Hey,” the larger one said. “You know where Jake Tunnel's office is?”
He was tempted to tell them it was upstairs and keep going. Having these guys banging on his door didn't excite him. “I'm Dr. Tunnel.”
“Oh, good. We need a few minutes of your time.”
“Who are you?” Jake asked.
The bigger man ignored the question. “Let's go to your office where we can talk in private.”
“We can talk here. How can I help you?”
“We represent the Vatican and need to ask you a few questions about a fugitive you may have had contact with â Benicio Valori.”
“Who'd you say you were?” Jake asked.
“I'm Maury and this is Jeremy.”
“And what's your relationship to the Vatican?”
“I think we should ask the questions. Have you been contacted by Benicio Valori?”
“I doubt that's any of your business.”
“Come on now,” Jeremy urged. “Just be straight with us and we'll be out of your hair. Benicio is confused and we're here to help get things straightened out. We wanna help Benicio, even if he doesn't realize it.”
“Yeah, I can see that. You two look like the helping types.”
“Don't be a smart-assed prick,” Jeremy said, sneering.
“Language,” Jake said, faking offense. “What would the Vatican say?”
Maury looked at his brother and motioned for him to back off. “We'd really appreciate your assistance, Dr. Tunnel.”
“I've got nothing to say. My son is in the hospital and that's where I'm headed,” Jake announced and moved toward the door. The men shifted to physically block his way.
Maury leaned in close. He whispered, “Don't fuck with us,” and slapped a card against Jake's chest. “If you hear from Valori or find out anything about where he's at â call us. If we find out you knew something and didn't tell us we'll come back. You don't want us to come back.”
Jake took the card and backed away. Maury stared at him for another second, then a glimmer of a smirk crossed his lips. He and Jeremy turned and left.
Jake looked at the card for a moment and then ripped it in half. There was a garbage container nearby, and he dropped the ripped paper in it.
Ben, what have you gotten yourself into
? Things had changed. He wanted â no, needed â to know more about this Voynich book. He'd go straight to Dal and get started.
Benicio and Matthew walked up Lower Water Street. The priest was glad he was meeting Jake later. Things were still on the verge of being out of control, but it helped having Jake involved. He felt guilty, though. Jake had more than enough to deal with. The guy's son was really sick. He hated to put a greater burden on him.
I guess it never rains, it pours
. He smiled weakly and glanced at his companion.
I'm on the run with an autistic child, and Jake's son is going in for major surgery
. It was certainly pouring now.
He kept walking up the steep sidewalk then noticed that Matthew had stopped. He turned to find him looking at a menu posted outside a glass doorway. He stood next to the boy. “You hungry?” He knew it was a silly question, since they hadn't really eaten yet that day. “We have some time before we meet Jake. Let's go check it out.”
It was a hotel, and they went into the lobby. Benicio spied the entrance to the restaurant off in the corner. They made their way over and were soon seated in a booth near a window looking out over Salter Street.
A smart-looking young server in a white shirt and black vest and pants came over to their table. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Sure,” Benicio said.
The server looked at Matthew, who was staring blankly into space. “Does your son want anything to drink?”
“Matt, do you want a drink?”
No answer.
“Apple juice? Milk?”
Still no answer. Before Benicio could offer the boy more choices, the server picked up a menu and opened it to pictures
of breakfast dishes. “Do you want milk?” she asked, and pointed to a glass of milk. “Or apple juice?” She pointed again.
Matthew put his finger on the picture of the milk.
“There we go,” she announced, and went to get the drinks.
“Wow,” Benicio said. “Good job, Matthew.”
No response.
The server was back with the drinks in no time. “What can I get you two?”
“That was a pretty good trick with the milk,” Benicio said.
She shrugged. “I have a nephew who's hearing impaired. I guess you just adapt.”
“Well, it's still a good trick. Think it would work again? I'll have bacon and eggs, and let's see what Matthew wants.”
Benicio slid the menu under Matthew's nose and pointed to a hamburger. No reaction. Mischievously, he pointed to a plate of spaghetti. Matthew immediately put his finger on a picture of pancakes.
“Okay,” the server said, smiling. “Anything else?”
Benicio looked at Matthew, who stared blankly at the wall. “No thanks.”
She went to get their breakfasts.
Benicio looked across the table at Matthew. He wondered if he was doing the right thing. He thought, somehow, that if he saw Jake they'd be able to figure out an answer. He realized that was a long shot. But he knew God would lead them to an answer.
Somehow.
When he'd moved to Halifax, Jake had done some teaching for the Psychology Department at Dalhousie University. Teaching a course here and there had brought in some money while he was establishing his private practice. He'd continued his affiliation with Dalhousie, supervising practicum students from the doctoral program and helping with research projects. It was a good way to keep his skills honed.
His affiliation with the psych department gave him unlimited access to the library and the university's massive computerized holdings. At the moment, he wanted to learn whatever he could about the ancient manuscript. He figured there would be a few references on the Internet. With luck he might find some books or journal articles.
He came to the corner of Spring Garden Road and University Avenue and looked at the soaring column and classic architecture of the majestic Saint Andrew's United Church â an interesting contrast to the trendy shopping district beside it.
Old world meets new
, Jake thought, then stopped suddenly.
Harold Grower was standing in front of the church, watching Jake and waving furiously. Jake nodded once then looked away and walked quickly past the church. As he turned onto University he heard the slap of footsteps behind him.
“Dr. Tunnel!” Harold said as he caught up with Jake. “What a surprise to see you around here.”