With that thought, he dove into the latest reports from the field. Something new intrigued him: the phone history of the Yale paleontologist’s graduate teaching assistant. There were calls to him from phone numbers that hadn’t shown up before. That’s another thing, he said to himself, we have to do better trolling for metadata.
He decided to dial a number on the hacked call log to see who would answer. He had a strong suspicion already.
“Mistakes?” McCauley asked.
Kritz was about to respond, but she was interrupted by McCauley’s phone ringing.
Quinn was surprised. Katrina had the same reaction. A call on that phone, particularly at this late hour?
The phone continued to ring.
“Who?”
“Probably Pete,” he said. But the screen read “No caller ID. He shook his head. “No, not Pete.”
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Katrina asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Could be a wrong number?” Renee offered. “Then again…”
The ringing stopped. He was happy he hadn’t recorded a message.
“Tell us more about secret societies,” he said.
Colin Kavanaugh really didn’t expect anyone to answer, especially if his theory was right. He had another idea. He dialed DeMeo, who had been tracked to Italy.
On the third ring he heard a tired, “Hello.”
Kavanaugh hadn’t really considered what to say. He would have had the same problem if someone had answered before. So he fell back onto a natural default. He hung up, but not before he made a decision that would define his leadership over Gruber’s.
Fifty-seven
“‘Morning. Pour yourself some coffee,” Kritz said to Quinn, who was the first to join her for breakfast. “I racked my brain last night over that damned sketch. I’m not certain, but I seem to think I saw it on a library shelf in a Russian studies section. At least that’s my vague recollection. Anyway, it’s a place to start.”
“Where?”
“Oxford. Years ago.“
McCauley knew from his own work that in an instant, a memory could take him back to a dig he hadn’t visited in years. Calling it to mind, he’d see where specific rocks laid and the color of the dirt. Rich details. Maybe Renee was beginning to have that same kind of recollection.
Katrina joined the conversation. While Kritz caught her up, McCauley called Pete DeMeo.
“Where are you, buddy?” McCauley asked when his teaching assistant answered.
“Getting in touch with my Catholic roots. Exploring Rome. Are you still driving around in my car?”
“Well, not exactly. It’s parked.”
“Where?”
“Montreal Airport.”
“You’re in Canada?” DeMeo asked.
McCauley took a deep breath. “Ah, no. London, in fact. Things have changed even since the last time I called.”
“I guess.”
“And where are you?”
“In Firenze. It’s a beautiful day. I’m having a cappuccino outside watching life stroll by. Gorgeous life.” He smiled at a young brunette carrying bags from a shoe store in one hand and clothes in another. “Deciding who my future wife will be.”
“Up for any research?”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“For me,” McCauley said.
“Not really.” He caught another woman’s eye.
“But could you be?”
“Well, maybe if it doesn’t interfere. What’s up?”
McCauley told him about the Vatican scientist. “Dr. Alpert and I can make it to Rome, but it would be helpful if you could do some leg work.”
DeMeo laughed to himself. He thought he was doing just that now.
“Can you check out the project where he works?”
He gave DeMeo the only information he had on Father Eccleston. DeMeo had the same initial reaction McCauley and Alpert had had.
“A priest?”
“Yup. Works with a thing named STOQ.”
“What should I say if I find him?”
“Not much. Just that an acquaintance of his recommended we meet about a discovery we’ve made.”
“Urgent?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
McCauley finally told his teaching assistant what had happened.
“Christ!” DeMeo was no longer focused on the eye candy walking by. “You’re in way over your head. Don’t you think you should get some real help?”
“We’re hoping Eccleston will be that.”
“I mean people with badges who carry guns. That kind of help.”
“Not sure whom to trust right now, Pete. Please?”
“Okay, I reach this priest. Then what? You wave his cross in front of the next bad guys to come your way? For God’s sake, boss, go back home and lock all your doors.”
Pete DeMeo got Quinn McCauley to do something the paleontologist should have done earlier. Think about what he’d gotten himself into.
“I wish I could, but I can’t. I’m excited about things again. The way I haven’t felt in years. I don’t know where it’s going take me. But, maybe this is the discovery I’ve been looking to make all my life.”
He stopped. Another thought rushed forward. It wasn’t only what he’d gotten himself into. Others were deeply involved.
“Oh my God,” McCauley proclaimed.
“What?”
“I’m putting you at risk now along with Katrina, Marli Bellamy, Greene, the students…”
“Don’t worry about me,” DeMeo interrupted. “I’ll get you your Vatican priest. After that, have your talk and call it a day.”
Quinn McCauley knew his assistant was right, but he couldn’t stop now. He could, however, go it alone.
“Thanks, Pete. See what you can find out, but no entanglements yourself. And look over your shoulder. Be…” He was about to say careful when Renee Kritz called from the other room.
“I think I remember where I saw the sketch!”
Fifty-eight
Historically, each of the Oxford Colleges had its own archives and libraries. They reached as far back as the twelfth century. In recent years, the shelves, stacks and volumes have been brought together into one home, the Bodleian Library. Now, the Bodley or even the more abbreviated Bod serves as the principal research library of the University of Oxford. It contains more than eleven million entries. The only library in Great Britain that eclipses the Bod is the British Library. Until the British Museum was founded in 1753, the Bodleian was, for all intents and purposes, the national library of England. It has been the repository of histories and mysteries, scientific journals and science fiction, biographies of the famous and the infamous, today’s newspapers and yesterday’s fairy tales. The Bod is where Renee Kritz took Quinn McCauley and Katrina Alpert.
For the better part of the first hour, Kritz went shelf-to-shelf in the Russian history and anthropology section, looking for anything that might jog her memory.
“Not here,” she said.
“What about this aisle?” Katrina asked not once, but five times as they walked through the Bod’s collection.
“Not here,” she kept reporting. “Or here…or here.” was the constant, discouraging response.
McCauley began his own search. After another hour, Renee and Katrina caught up to him. “This isn’t working,” Kritz admitted. “I could have sworn it was in a book in this section of the library. I thought maybe the size of the book or the color of the binding might jump out, but so far…”