Kill Code

Part II

It was a thirteen minute drive to Sid's office at the L.A. Center for Cultural Preservation. The LACCP had taken over a building erected during the Spanish occupation of California that was just outside of downtown. With its elaborate architecture bearing unique Spanish accents, it fit the name of the group perfectly. When she entered the lobby, Sid was awaiting her. He was a short man with short, black hair combed over and held in place with an excessive amount of hair gel. He pulled his sport jacket together, pushed his square glasses up his pointy nose, and cleared his throat. "My, Darci, you look well," he remarked.

"You don't look too bad yourself," she replied. "How've you been?"

"I've been all right. Please, come back to my office and we can talk."

Naturally, the building had been untouched in places it could, and touched in places it could not; for example, there were extra furnishings, new doors, and, of course, air conditioning. On the way to his office, they passed several different offices dealing in the preservation of several different cultures from Hebrew to Roman to Persian. The entire building was deeply silent, as if all throughout there was a profound reverence for each culture they were conserving. So quiet was the place that the constant click of Mendelssohn's heels seemed like cymbals clashing during a orchestral rest.

At last, they reached Sid's office. It was a fairly standard affair, with two expansive bookshelves on the back right and left walls, a large wooden desk in between and slightly to the front of those, and a seating area with a couch and two armchairs in front of the desk. One object, however, did catch Mendelssohn's eye as they entered: a huge painting on the back wall, framed in gold, and depicting an epic Greek battle. Though the pure artistry of it appeared to be hundreds of years old, the colors were so bright and vivid that it almost seemed fake. Sid explained with great pride that it was real, and that it was the only artifact he was allowed to keep with him.

"I restored it myself," he continued. "I was so taken with its beauty that I begged them to let me keep it. Of course, I had to pay a large sum, but it was well worth it."

"It's beautiful," Mendelssohn remarked as she took a seat.

"So what is it you've found? I did not realize you had become an archaeologist."

She laughed. "Not quite. This was a letter someone wrote to me, but it's in Greek. I knew you'd be able to read it."

He took the note, but raised his brow. "Someone wrote a letter to you in a language you couldn't read?"

"It's complicated," she replied, shaking her head.

Sid opened the note and cleared his throat. "It's in ancient Greek. Whoever wrote you this is well versed in it, too. It says, 'The kill--' em, how would you say it in modern English--ah, 'code,' perhaps? Yes, 'is in the coat.' 'The kill code is in the coat.' Hm. Odd thing to say in a letter, to be sure."

Mendelssohn reclined back in her chair, mumbling that sentence to herself repeatedly.

"Are you all right, Darci?" he said.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied. "It's not me I'm concerned about, anyway." She stood. "I know it's been short, but I've got stuff to do at work. You know how it is. Thanks for the interpretation. I enjoyed seeing you again."

"As did I. I only wish it might have been longer." They shook hands, and she left. Indeed, she thought that her sudden departure was rather rude, especially considering that they had not met in a long time. But the message from the doctor had made her gravely fearful. She knew what kill code Dr. Croy was likely referring to, but why would he want her to know where the kill code for his newest device was? Could he have known something that she did not? What if his technology had fallen into the wrong hands--the hands of the one who murdered him? She had to get answers.