The Voynich Cypher

Начало книги

Moonlight bathed the Abbey in an otherworldly glow as serpentine tendrils of foggy mist blanketed the countryside. The medieval buildings in the compound were blue-gray in the eerie lunar luminescence, and the encroaching vegetation appeared black instead of green. The Abbey was silent, with many hours remaining until activity on the grounds would begin, and only the dim illumination from a single incandescent bulb housed in an ancient rusted lamp above the massive stone entry hinted that the structures were occupied.

A dog barked in the distance, its throaty voice muffled by the thick haze.

The scarred brick well at the edge of the Abbey grounds, worn by the centuries and long since obsolete, blended with the landscape. But the guard who leaned against it, armed with a SIG Sauer 228 pistol, seemed out of place.

The crumbling aperture was surrounded by overgrown shrubs and weeds, rendering it virtually invisible. The sentry was dressed in dark army surplus camouflage pants and jacket, doing his lonesome duty on the latest of thousands of uneventful nights. He’d grown lax over the years, but in his defense, there was little to be actively vigilant against, save for an errant fox or badger that occasionally strayed into the vicinity. Even then the man didn’t bother to shoo the furry intruders away.

Читать дальше →