Unknown 9 by Layton Green (each kindness read aloud txt) 📕

• See where the Star Phone puzzle led.

The rest of it, this business about the Fold and the Enneagon and the ultimate aims of the Ascendants, the true nature of the LYS, and how deep this conspiracy reached—all that was gravy. If he tried to wrap his head around the enormity of it, the historical mysteries and the wild technology, his head just started to hurt.

He had learned, as a reporter, to keep it simple.

To follow the main thread of the story like a starving raccoon digging for a meal.

So while he had a feeling that everything he and Andie were pursuing was connected, he needed to stay laser-focused on his primary goal: finding evidence that would clear his name.

It turned out that the biggest, most important assignment of his career was the story of his own life.

   6   

After her shower, Andie slid her jeans back on and changed into a white V-neck T-shirt she found in the bedroom. It was hard to pull herself away from the comfortable four-poster bed, but she couldn’t let herself sleep yet.

By the time she made it to the wood-paneled office with a view of the vineyard, Cal had set out two mugs of coffee, orange juice, and an omelet.

“Best I can do on short notice,” he said.

She bit into the omelet and realized how hungry she was. “It’s a lifesaver. And delicious.”

“You know,” Cal said between bites, “I hate to say this, but if the Archon did hypnotize me in some way, there’s a good possibility I told them about the next clue on the Star Phone.”

“I know,” Andie said. “I’ve thought about that already.”

“Which means that, unless we figure out the clue first, the Ascendants might be waiting for us at the next destination.”

After that sobering thought, they ate and drank in silence, hurrying through the meal. Once the caffeine had perked her up, Andie pushed the plate aside and turned on the desktop computer, a sleek silver model with no visible manufacturer.

That figures.

Andie set the Star Phone on the desk beside the computer. She pressed the power strip on the bottom of the device to bring up the current image: a blue zero formed by two lines intertwined in a twisting spiral pattern, emulating a classic representation of a double helix.

Nested inside the open space in the center of the zero was another symbol outlined in crimson: the number 3 with a looped tail, set beneath a curved horn or claw lying on its side and cradling what could be a square or a hollow box.

“So remind this befuddled old-timer,” Cal said, “what we’ve got so far. This is the third step of the Star Phone puzzle since you started, right? And you think there are nine in total? With the Enneagon waiting as the prize?”

“Yeah, at least according to Dr. Corwin’s journal. The first step, the bust of Democritus, was in the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. The second, as you know, was a puzzle based around the Library of Alexandria.”

“Wait—there was more to Egypt than that. The library, the catacombs, that weird old house.”

“Yes, but all the markers in Alexandria except the first were temporary, dependent on aiming the Star Phone directly at them. Clues along the way. We’ve only had two new alphanumeric codes that, when entered, display a lasting image on the Star Phone. I’m guessing those permanent markers are the ‘steps’ the journal refers to.”

“Okay, I get all that,” Cal said, “but why did your mentor set this whole thing up?”

“That I don’t know. In the journal, there was a staircase with nine steps, along with a bunch of symbols I didn’t understand beside the stairs. On the first step were two words: ‘Democritus’ and ‘Arche.’ At the top of the nine steps, he wrote ‘Enneagon.’ Elsewhere, it was clear the Enneagon was the same weird nine-sided device he had sketched throughout the journal.”

“Nine steps, nine sides to the device . . . and ‘Arche’? What does that mean?”

“The beginning.”

Cal put a hand to his head. “The beginning of what?”

“I don’t really care at this point. I just know the Ascendants want it, and I have to find it first.”

Cal looked down at the strange pictogram displayed on the Star Phone. “There’s a clear theme of ancient knowledge. You said the zero reminded you of some genius Indian guy?”

“Aryabhata. My guess was he lived in the fifth or sixth century, but let me check right now.” She pulled up the browser to confirm the dates. “Yep, his birth date is commonly accepted as 476 AD. The puzzle clues seem to be moving forward in time.”

“And what did he do again?” Cal said.

“He was an astronomer and mathematician who wrote the Aryabhatiya—one of the classic works of ancient mathematics—when he was only twenty-three.”

“Wait—he named his opus after himself?”

“Maybe it was the custom at the time. I don’t know. Anyway, he made a whole host of contributions, but he’s most famous for his work with the zero. He didn’t exactly come up with the concept—Indian philosophers had been pondering the idea for centuries—but Aryabhata developed a counting system that made it common parlance in mathematics.”

“Didn’t you say the Mayans were sniffing around the same concepts?” Cal asked.

“Definitely. The Babylonians too. Both cultures understood the concept of nothing, or the absence of a measurable quantity, but they used it as a placeholder in counting systems, rather than as an actual number. I know it seems an odd thing to have to invent, but the numerical zero is the anchor for the modern calculations used in physics and digital technologies.”

“I suppose it’s fairly important to the binary system. Right around, oh, fifty percent.”

“The other reason I was drawn to India,” she said, “was the squiggly symbol in crimson. Let’s just do a quick search here, for the hell of it—”

She typed “common Sanskrit symbols”’ into the search bar. The three with the looped tail was the very first