The Sacred Cipher Read Online Free Page B

his brethren in the eyes. “We are
     here to restore the honor of the Prophet’s Guard. Now that the mullah has discovered
     this connection between the infidel Spurgeon and this mission, we have been offered
     this great opportunity to serve—perhaps to serve unto death and become a revered martyr.”
    Farouk reached under his shirt at the neck and withdrew an amulet, a Coptic cross
     with a lightning bolt slashing through on the diagonal, and watched as the other three
     echoed his movement. Each man held his amulet firmly, next to his heart. “May Allah
     be praised!”
    Slipping the amulets back under their shirts, the four men exchanged glances, then
     peeled away in four separate directions.
    Thirty minutes later, stepping off the Staten Island Ferry at the awe-inspiring tip
     of Manhattan Island, Farouk casually wandered into Battery Park. He found an unoccupied
     park bench, well into the shadows, stretched out his body on the bench, rested his
     head on his seabag, and went to sleep. It was still dark when the policeman lightly
     struck the sole of his shoe with a nightstick.
    “Come on, you can’t sleep here. You’ve got to move along.”
    Wearily, Sayeed rose to a sitting position. “Officer, then, could you tell me how
     to get to the Bowery Mission?”

2
    Joe Rodriguez was a down-to-earth guy. Lean, strapping, muscular, his 6-4 frame and
     intense brown eyes combined with a relentless stride and boundless energy. Raised
     in the South Bronx, the son of Puerto Rican natives, his “New York attitude” sometimes
     added an alarming edge to his already imposing figure.
    Stepping across the void and onto the scaffolding at the rear of the Bowery Mission’s
     chapel, Rodriguez brought something much more important to his friend and fellow Yankees
     fan than his size, his attitude, or that he was Tom’s brother-in-law. Joe Rodriguez
     was also curator of the periodicals room in the massive, main research facility of
     New York’s public library system—the Humanities and Social Sciences Library—a historic,
     Beaux-Arts landmark building on Fifth Avenue that was often incorrectly referred to
     as the “main branch.” Rodriguez was both a computer wizard and one of the most highly
     respected apologists of library science in the country. He had worked his entire career
     for the New York Public Library System, the last fifteen years in the historic marble
     halls of the research mecca on beautiful Bryant Park, and had authored two acclaimed
     books explaining how to unlock the astounding research and information resources of
     the world’s libraries.
    Rodriguez rapidly realized he would need all of that skill and experience if he was
     going to help his brother-in-law create a catalog of the volumes now before his eyes.
    “I never expected this,” Rodriguez said, bending at the waist under the low ceiling.
     He stood close to the safe, intently inspecting what he could see of the books, scrolls,
     and other documents stacked throughout the interior. “Tom . . . this . . . is amazing.”
    “That’s why I was so anxious to get you down here.” Bohannon stepped toward Rodriguez
     and leaned his hand on the door of the massive safe. “I don’t know what to make of
     this. But I need to have some solid information to give to our board.”
    Rodriguez looked at his brother-in-law and realized he had never seen Tom so animated,
     or so nervous. Joe Rodriguez found a kindred spirit in Tom. Tom and his sister, Deirdre,
     were raised in a Catholic family. But when their parents became “born-again Christians,”
     it was Deirdre who was much more active in living her faith than her older brother.
     Tom was sort of lost in limbo. Joe could relate to that. He was a lapsed Catholic
     and the object of Deirdre’s constant prayers.
    Rodriguez recognized that there was some of the kid, some of the investigator, some
     of the taskmaster present today as Bohannon eagerly watched him caress the volumes
     in the