“Her grandmother…” The man frowned. “Our grandmother has fallen very sick. She’s had a completely unexpected stroke and she’s really not well at all. I don’t think she’s going to make it, you see, and I know Rose would be so upset if she missed out on that.”
“They’re close are they?”
“Oh, thick as thieves those two, yes.”
Phelps nodded softly, almost to himself. “Well, I’m not at liberty to divulge too much information about employees, Mr. Yardley. But I can tell you that I’ve heard from Rose in the last twenty four hours. Last night, in fact. She’s quite well.”
Visible relief washed over Yardley. “Oh, it makes me so happy to hear that, sir. I can’t understand why she’s not reached out to her family, or why she’s not contactable.”
“Well, Rose rang me and said she needed some time off and she’s taken a short, unplanned holiday, that’s all. I’m sure it didn’t really occur to her to let everyone know. And as for her phone, she might be somewhere without reception, or have roaming turned off to save money.”
Yardley nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, of course, that all makes sense. Do you have any idea where she is? I really need to let her know about her nan.”
Phelps shook his head. “I can’t tell you where she is right now, but I did help her out by making an introduction for her to an archivist at Prague Castle. She messaged me that she was planning to visit and did I know anyone she could chat to.” Phelps laughed a little ruefully. “Even when she’s supposed to be on vacation, she’s still working. Perhaps you can leave a message for her there?” That didn’t seem to be giving too much away of Rose’s private life, and if this man really did need to get that news to her, he could maybe do it that way.
Yardley smiled broadly. “That’s wonderful, sir, thank you very much. I’ll do exactly that. And when she turns up at that Castle, they can get her to call me right away. I just hope she gets the message soon enough.”
“So do I. Best of luck.”
Yardley nodded his thanks and scurried awkwardly from the office on his injured leg.
Phelps sighed and shook his head. People’s lives were complicated and thankless so often. “Let’s hope she doesn’t miss her grandmother’s passing, eh?” he said to Jaini.
The secretary nodded and handed him a sheet of paper. “Let’s hope. Here’s the funds application you asked for.”
“Ah, you’re a brick. Thank you!”
Patterson limped from the Natural History Museum cursing Rose Black under his breath. He couldn’t wait for an opportunity to pay her back for the injury to his knee. Might never work quite the same again, the doctor had told him. She would pay for that.
As he hobbled down the front steps he pulled out his phone and tapped a name in the Recent Calls list. It was picked up after only two rings.
“Anything?”
Dean grinned. “Pack an overnight bag, Jeffries. Tell Mr. Landvik we’re going to Prague.”
Chapter 19
Crowley walked beside Rose along Golden Lane, on the outer edge of Prague Castle. Cobblestones lay damp beneath their feet after a light rain, the sky still occluded by low, pale gray clouds. But that did nothing to dull the brightly colored small houses along the lane, duck egg blue and salmon pink, corn yellow and moss green. Low tiled roofs and squat chimneys topped the buildings, almost like a model village. It made Crowley feel like some kind of strange giant. On the opposite side of the narrow street, the castle walls rose, imposing sandy colored bulwarks dotted with patches of tall windows and black guttering.
“Hardly feels real,” Crowley said. “Like a purpose-built tourist attraction.”
Rose laughed. “That could be said for a lot of old Europe, I think. But it’s been around a long time. In the sixteenth century alchemists lived here, trying to turn base metals into gold. That’s where the name comes from, Golden Lane.” She pointed. “And that house there, apparently, is where Franz Kafka lived from 1916 to 1917.”
“Really?”
She flapped a pamphlet at him. “I picked this up at the hotel on the way out. That’s what it says.”
“Well, there you go. But this part isn’t particularly relevant to us, is it?”
“No.” Rose pointed to an access path to the main castle. “The Devil’s Bible came to Sweden from inside there. That much was confirmed by the librarian in Stockholm. So if what they have is a copy, the original must have been here first but then replaced with the one the Swedes took.”
Crowley pursed his lips. “Unless the one here at Prague was a copy all along and that’s what was taken?”
“Sure, but then we need to know more about how it got here from wherever King Rudolf lifted it. If we learn that we might get one step closer to the original.”
“And that’s assuming the whole original or copy thing isn’t just a myth.” Crowley held up a hand to stave off any protestations. “I know. We can’t know anything for sure without following it up. Let’s go inside. Your contact there now?”
Rose checked her phone for the time. “He should be. The number Charles gave me was a mobile, so I texted rather than called. But he messaged back that he was starting at ten today and it’s ten thirty now.”
They made their way to the entrance to the castle, walked under an intricate golden archway over the gate. Either side, statues of battle stood imposing over the gateposts. On the left, one muscled warrior killed a man with a wickedly long pointed knife. On the right, a cloaked fighter smashed his opponent with a massive club.
“Amazing sculpting,” Crowley said.
Rose twisted her mouth in distaste. “Bit violent for my liking. They’re the Fighting Giants, apparently.”
The castle before them was four main stories of pale stone, then a roof story under red-brown tiles. They entered and made their way through high and impressive spaces, vaulted ceilings with floral stonework, bright religious iconography, tall windows, both clear and stained glass.
“Another place I’d love to visit with more time and less bad guys trying to kidnap me,” Rose said.
Crowley nodded. He had to agree, the place was breathtaking. “Add it to the list.”
Rose checked her notes again and then sent a text message to the contact Phelps had given her. He texted back almost immediately. “Damek says he’s coming to meet us. He’ll escort us to the archives.”
“Excellent. You’ve got useful contacts.”
“Anything come of your army friend? Cameron was it?”
Crowley shrugged. “Not yet. But he’s the kind of guy who’ll get a bit between his teeth and keep running with it. I imagine I’ll hear from him in another day or two with everything anyone in the world knows about this thing!”
“You are Rose?”
They turned toward the voice and saw a young man, maybe mid-twenties, tall and slim. He had long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and wore thick-framed glasses, tight jeans and a denim shirt with mother-of-pearl press studs holding the pockets closed.
Crowley frowned. He’d been expecting a stuffy old professor type, not some young hipster. Then again, Rose was a contemporary of this guy and she was no stuffy professor either. Stereotypes rarely proved accurate, he reflected.
“That’s me.” Rose extended a hand to shake. Crowley didn’t miss Damek’s gaze traveling all the way down and back up her body in a way the young man probably thought was subtle. Or maybe he just didn’t care for subtlety. “This is my colleague, Jake Crowley.”