Free The Bloodline Cipher by Stephen Cole Page B

high cheekbone again, her lip curling in anger. ‘She wanted to know if there were duplicate copies of the manuscript …’
    Con raised an eyebrow. ‘And you didn’t tell her?’
    â€˜She killed Blackland,’ said Maya simply. ‘I didn’t want to do anything that might help her.’ She sighed, looked almost guiltily at Tye. ‘I suppose I
would
have told her if you and your friend hadn’t stopped her when you did. Thank you for helping me.’
    â€˜In return,
you
will help us to help ourselves,’ Con informed her.
    â€˜Scans of the manuscript,’ Jonah muttered. ‘Then we’re still in the game …’ He could feel his heart pumping faster as he turned back to Maya. ‘So, Blackland kept a digital archive of all his books?’
    â€˜Yes, I’ve been helping him with that project,’ she told him, ‘not just for cataloguing, but to aid close study and translation. I’m a cryptanalyst.’
    Tye looked puzzled. ‘You mean you analyse crypts?’
    â€˜Duh!’ Despite everything, Jonah grinned. ‘It means she cracks ciphers.’ Tye glared at him, as he turned back to Maya. ‘So the entire Guan Yin manuscript is encrypted, not just this Bloodline Cipher thing?’
    She nodded. ‘Sure. I was thinking some kind of polyalphabetic cipher at first, but frequency analysis shows natural statistical features in accordance with Zipf’s law –’
    â€˜Oh, sweet Jesus,’ Motti drawled. ‘Don’t say we got another Jonah.’
    â€˜Mot!’ Patch bounded over to him. ‘Thought you was in a coma or something.’
    â€˜I wish. It’d hurt a lot less.’ As Tye and Patch helped him stand, Motti touched the swollen bruise on his forehead and winced. ‘What’d I miss?’
    â€˜Just about everything,’ Con told him.
    â€˜But you’ve woken up at a good bit.’ Jonah grinned at him, then looked back at Maya. ‘Has Blackland got transport?’
    She nodded quickly. ‘A vintage Buick in the garage.’
    â€˜And these must be the keys,’ Tye announced, crouched beside Blackland’s body, her hand inside his jacket pocket.
    â€˜Patch, get Tye inside that garage,’ said Jonah, nerves sparking in his gut. ‘Get the car and park it out front. Con, help Motti outside. If the cops show, get out of here. I’ll keep in RT contact and meet up with you later.’
    â€˜Who died and made you the boss?’ growled Motti.
    â€˜You did, nearly,’ Jonah retorted.
    â€˜I’m the one who
really
almost died!’ Patch proudlylifted his top again to show his spectacular bruised stomach.
    Tye grimaced and looked back at Jonah. ‘And while we’re doing that, you’ll be getting this DVD with Maya here?’
    â€˜And any other rare stuff you can carry. After this shambles we must curry favour with the boss, yes?’ Con glanced at Motti. ‘First you lose his ring, then we lose his manuscript –’
    â€˜So let’s get going.’ Jonah took hold of Maya’s arm and hurried her from the room. ‘Library. Right now …’
    Tye sat in the driver’s seat of the Buick Riviera ’65, scanning the shadow-shrunken landscape for hints of electric blue, straining for the first wails of police sirens approaching. She felt sick with tiredness, and her jaw and nose were throbbing. But Motti wasn’t complaining about his injuries, so she kept quiet about her own. She checked him in the rear-view, sprawled on the cherry-red leather upholstery beside Patch, one hand in his jeans pocket, resting the good side of his head against the window.
    The limo had burnt out quickly, and sat now a charred and twisted wreck. While Con had poked about in the ash for some trace of the manuscript, Tye had filled in Motti on what he’d missed.
    â€˜You really think Lady Bowfinger’s got Coldhardt’s ring