Brooklyn Knight Read Online Free PDF

pieces—”
    Knight understood the frustration of such events extremely well. The professor could sympathize with his former colleague all too easily. He also had endured the tantalizing hope offered by scraps of information one prayed would come together into something conclusive but which in the end rarely actually did so. As he listened to Ungari’s voice, however, Knight began to realize the doctor was headed toward the extraordinary, where hope turned to realization. Thus he asked;
    “I’m thinking, Ashur, you’re telling me that this is not one of those times when nothing comes from years of research and prayers, eh?”
    “That is indeed what I am not telling you,” agreed the doctor, laughter in his voice. “Not in the least. We have reached the foundation of the city, the main streets, and there is writing everywhere. Engraved in stone. Permanent, perfectly preserved. Ready to be translated.”
    And as Ungari finished his sentence, the excitement in his voice triggered a realization within the professor’s brain. This was the reason for the frantic call. This was the purpose so important, so immediate, it could not be delayed. Believing he understood what he was being told, Knight asked;
    “This language you’ve found, this isn’t a new thing, is it? You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”
    “Yes I have,” answered the doctor. He gave Knight a moment to soak in the idea, then added his kicker. “And, so have you, Piers, old dog.”
    “I have?”
    “You remember the Language of Dreams, do you not?”
    And in that moment, Professor Piers Knight suddenly understood his colleague’s excitement, and why mere considerations like propriety or expense had been rendered inconsequential. For if Dr. Ashur Ungari was correct, all of history was about to be rewritten from the ground up. Both men realized the fact, and for a single moment they shared the utter ecstasy of both unbridled joy and pride.
    It was the last they would ever know.

 

    INTERLUDE
     
    “How did you get this number?”
    The question was not simply put. There was no anger in the voice of the one posing it. Sitting at a console in a somberly lit room, a windowless affair filled with rows of high-powered computers, the speaker waited patiently for his answer.
    “Is that really important?”
    “It is most assuredly important,” came the answer. Without pause, the voice continued, adding, “I believe that you actually cannot imagine how important.”
    The two voices dueled across the airwaves. The first was not even a true voice. What the second was hearing was a highly sophisticated, electronic distortion of the speaker’s voice. For all the caller knew, the voice on the other end of the phone was of a woman, a man, a toddler with an exceptional vocabulary, or even an amazingly talented dog. Indeed, the intonations coming out of the second party’sreceiver were so heavily masked, he would not even be able to tell if more than one person was answering him.
    “You will not believe my answer,” responded the caller, prompting the voice to inform him;
    “I will also not speak with you further unless you tell me something. So, my advice to you is that you might as well try. Go ahead—give me something to believe.”
    “Very well… .”
    The caller paused, the back of his brain revealing to him just how absurd his position was about to become. What he was attempting was not only illegal, but it was also the type of crime one only witnessed in movies focusing on international criminals. He, a part of their mind noted, was in no way a mastermind of such a magnitude.
    Then again , a separate whisper came to the caller from the back of his mind, is that not exactly what we are about to attempt—to become a mastermind? To engineer the fate of the world according to our own whims?
    “I have a particular need,” the caller began, speaking slowly. “I must obtain a certain something … at any cost. By any means. But I will admit to you