Part 36 (2/2)

”Good morning, Miss Falling Hawk,” Madeleine said. She paused in her typing, peering at the wall clock. ”Wait just a moment-there we go. Good afternoon.”

Deirdre winced. ”I sent an e-mail. I said I was working at home.”

”E-mail is for barbarians,” Madeleine said. ”Where is your umbrella?”

”I don't have one.”

The receptionist made a clucking sound. No doubt only barbarians failed to purchase umbrellas when in London.

Deirdre headed down to her office, expecting to find Anders pounding away at his computer, but he wasn't there. Most likely he was out at lunch. It was just as well. This way she could have a bit of quiet to get some work done, though she would miss his coffee. She lifted the pot, but it was cold and empty.

Settling for a gla.s.s of water, she sat at her desk, opened her computer, and brought up the files concerning the Thomas At.w.a.ter case.

At.w.a.ter was the journeyman who, in 1619, had broken the Seventh Desideratum by returning to a former place of employment that the Philosophers had forbidden him to enter. However, as far as she could tell, there was no record of any punitive action. In fact, according to the fragmented accounts she had managed to find, At.w.a.ter had quickly risen in the Seekers, becoming a master before his untimely death at the age of twenty-nine.

Deirdre hadn't been particularly excited when Nakamura had a.s.signed her this task, but perhaps he was onto something. Had the Philosophers evolved in their application of the Desiderata over the centuries? If so, understanding the various historical precedents might give the Seekers some power to argue interpretation of the Desiderata with the Philosophers, and that could give them more flexibility in their investigations.

However, over the last couple of days, Deirdre had run into something of a brick wall with regard to the research. There was nothing in the old records that indicated why At.w.a.ter hadn't been punished for his infraction. She performed several more searches as the clock ticked away the silent minutes, but to no avail.

She was still staring at the screen when Anders stepped into the office. On reflex she slammed the computer shut. He seemed not to notice, and he shot her a broad smile.

”Afternoon, mate. Glad to see you made it in. Is the head better?”

”Yes,” she said, then winced and held a hand to her forehead.

He clucked his tongue and moved to the coffeepot. ”Looks like you mean no. We'd better get some caffeine in your system. I imagine the Seekers want your mind in tip-top shape.”

Once again she chided herself for being so suspicious of Anders. He had been nothing but friendly and helpful these last days. She opened her computer, and when he brought her a steaming mug, she accepted it with a genuine smile.

By six o'clock, the effects of the coffee had worn off. Deirdre had followed a few more leads in the Thomas At.w.a.ter case, but all of them had been dead ends. As interesting as this case was, she was going to have to move on. The fact was, she would probably never know the full story of At.w.a.ter's transgression and why the Philosophers hadn't punished him.

Anders put on his jacket and announced he was off to the pub for a pint with some friends. He invited her along, but she declined. After Anders headed out, Deirdre began packing up her own gear. All she wanted was to spend a quiet evening on the couch in front of the television.

A knock on the door startled her. She looked up and saw Paul Jacoby standing in the open doorway.

”h.e.l.lo, Deirdre. Do you have a moment?”

”Of course, Paul.” She noticed the folder in his hands. ”Do you have something for me?”

”I think so.” He hurried into the room. Jacoby was a small, balding, bespectacled man of around fifty. His graying mustache, crooked bow tie, and worn corduroy coat lent him a comfortable, scholarly look. He fumbled with the folders, pulling out papers and setting them on her desk. ”This is fascinating. Quite extraordinary. In fact, I've never seen anything like it.”

”Nothing at all?” Deirdre said, her hopes falling.

”Oh, I don't mean this part, of course.” He pointed at the photograph of the clay tablet. ”The inscription at the top here is clearly written in Linear A.”

”Linear A?”

”It's one of the earliest writing systems we know of. It was developed by the Minoan civilization that arose on Crete about three thousand years ago, and it was used to write an early form of Greek. This is a nice example of it. However, it's this inscription that astounds me.” He pointed to the runelike symbols on the bottom half of the tablet. ”I've never seen writing like this before. I did a full search of the linguistic databases, but there was no match. These symbols are of utterly unknown origin. There is nothing else like them.”

Deirdre touched the silver ring on her hand. What would Jacoby think if he knew those same symbols were engraved inside the ring, as well as on the old keystone in the photo she found-the keystone taken from the building that would one day house Surrender Dorothy?

”Can you read the lower inscription?”

Jacoby shook his head. ”No, though I might be able to in time. Whoever made this tablet wrote the same inscription twice, in two different writing systems. I was able to translate the pa.s.sage written in Linear A.” He fumbled with more papers. ”Here we go. Mind you, this is only my preliminary translation. I'll need time to refine it. But in general, it reads, 'Forget not the Sleeping Ones. In their blood lies the key.'”

Deirdre gripped the edge of the desk to keep from staggering, hoping Jacoby-focused as he was on the papers-didn't notice her reaction. According to the report she had read, traces of blood had been found on the keystone. Blood with otherworldly origins. But what did it mean? And who were the Sleeping Ones?

Jacoby was still talking excitedly. ”You don't have access to the original tablet, do you? It would help enormously to get chemical composition data to help place its geographic origin.” He flipped back to the photograph and brushed a finger over the lower inscription. ”In a way, as different as it is, the two languages appear not entirely unrelated. I can't be certain, but my supposition is that you could actually derive Linear A from this lower language. That would be exciting news. We believed Linear A was the oldest writing system in the Aegean region, but it may be that another system preceded it.”

Deirdre took the folder and closed it, forcing her hands not to tremble. ”Thanks, Paul. You've been a big help.”

He smiled and adjusted his gla.s.ses. ”You're quite welcome, Deirdre. And I trust you'll be so kind as to inform me if you find any more examples of this new writing system. We'll need more samples if we're to decode it.”

”Of course,” she said, hardly hearing her own words.

Jacoby nodded and left the room. Deirdre stared at the folder in her hands. An idea buzzed like a bee in her brain, insistent, but too swift to catch hold of.

”So what was that all about?” said a smoky voice.

Deirdre turned around. Sasha stood in the doorway. She wore stirrup pants and a tweed jacket with elbow patches. All she needed were jodhpurs and a riding crop to complete the faux jockey look.

Deirdre sighed. ”Sasha. You startled me.”

Sasha sauntered into the room. ”It's unusual to see Paul Jacoby over here.” She ran long fingers through a bouquet of lilies Anders had brought in and bent down to smell them.

”I had asked a small favor of him,” Deirdre said, not sure how much she should say. It was just Sasha. Then again, Sasha seemed to know more about what was going on in the Seekers than Deirdre ever did.

Sasha looked up from the flowers. ”Paul Jacoby is a specialist in linguistics, right? Only I thought you were researching historical violations of the Desiderata.”

”It's a little side project.”

Sasha gave her a sharp look. ”I thought as much. You have a sneaky look about you.”

”I do not,” Deirdre said, crossing her arms, hunching her shoulders, and taking a step back. Belatedly, she realized that probably made her look even sneakier.

”Be careful, Deirdre,” Sasha said, wagging a finger at her.

”Be careful of what?”

”I don't know. I think . . .” Sasha cast a glance at the open door. ”All I know is they keep watch, all right?”

A s.h.i.+ver ran up Deirdre's spine. ”Who's keeping watch? Do you mean Anders? Is that why they a.s.signed him as my new partner-to keep watch in case Farr contacts me?”

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