The God Machine by J. G. SANDOM Read Free Book Online Page B

you?” he said as he loped across the office and grabbed him in a bear-like embrace.
    Koster wrenched himself free. “Fine, Nick. I guess. How are you?”
    “You look like shit.”
    “Thanks,” Koster said. He stared up at his friend. Atsix feet four inches, Robinson towered above him. Koster was but five feet ten. And Robinson still sported the shoulders he'd built for himself back in prep school, as the stroke of the school's premier eight. “Now I know why I bothered to come. Because you always know what to say.” His fingers started to dance on his trouser legs, as if he were playing piano.
    “Long day at McKenzie and Voight?” Nick asked.
    “You could say that.”
    “Go ahead. Tell me. What's the matter, Joseph? What's wrong?”
    “Why do you always think something's wrong?”
    “I just know.”
    Yes, Koster thought. Robinson always did seem to sense when something was troubling him. Not just him, for that matter. Any friend. It was one of Nick Robinson's gifts.
    “You're doing it,” Robinson said, pointing down. He was staring at Koster's fingers as they danced about nervously.
    “Doing what?”
    “Counting again. Your abacus thing. I thought you were taking medication for that.”
    “No pharmacologic solutions directly treat the core symptoms of AS.”
    “Clearly not. What was it, the panes in the windows? The number of square feet of each wall, divided by the angles of each mural plane?”
    Koster stuffed his hands in his pockets. He did not respond.
    “What happened?” demanded Robinson. “Spit it out.”
    Koster told him what had transpired at the office that morning.
    Nick listened patiently, then shrugged. “Well, the firm didn't lose any money, so who cares? It's time you tooksome time off anyway. How much vacation time do you have?”
    Koster moved around the desk. “I don't know. About seventeen weeks.”
    Robinson laughed. “Seventeen weeks!”
    “I like my job. I like to keep busy.”
    “You're using your work like a drug, Joseph. A distraction elixir. Like your pot. Like your counting.”
    “And you sound like my mother.”
    “Good. She's got sense.” Nick Robinson grew suddenly serious. He folded his arms and said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
    Koster stood still. “A what?”
    “A conundrum. A puzzle,” said Robinson. “I want you to solve it. I can't. Believe me, I've tried. But I have faith that you can.”
    In the almost forty years they had known each other, Koster couldn't remember a time when Nick Robinson had asked for a favor. It just wasn't part of his makeup. On countless occasions he had said, “I have a job for you …” or “a task…” or “a present…” or “a recommendation …” But never, ever a favor.
    “And it sounds like you have the time now,” said Robinson.
    “Thanks for reminding me. What's the favor?”
    Robinson reached over the desk and flipped to the front of the tan-colored volume.
    Koster glanced down at the book. He spotted the signature and unraveled its meaning immediately.
“B
as in Ben?” he inquired. “As in Benjamin Franklin?”
    Robinson nodded. “It's his personal journal. But it's written in code. I haven't been able to make hide nor hair of its meaning. I thought you might give it a try.”
    Koster picked up the book. There were strings of unintelligible words, with no punctuation. Except for thatone phrase in English and Hebrew and Greek. “The Gospel of Judas?” he said.
    “It's an early Christian text.”
    “I know what it is, Nick. A Gnostic codex. Like the one that I searched for in France, under Chartres Cathedral. Like the Gospel of Thomas.”
    “But far more incendiary, Joseph. According to this ancient text, Judas was
asked
by Jesus to betray Him. This book describes how—despite his protests—Judas finally agreed, in order for Christ to fulfill the prophecies. Instead of being an archvillain, Judas is portrayed as Christ's closest companion and confidante. A true anti-hero. And he didn't