“Churchill!” Bones exclaimed. “I love this dude! Let’s rub his head for good luck.” He turned toward the bust, but Kaylin took him by the elbow and pulled him back.
“That’s not Winston Churchill; it’s one of the former presidents of the society. Let’s just go inside.”
“President? Shouldn’t he have been Prime Minister?”
“You keep proving you’re smarter than you look, Bones.” Kaylin gave him a playful elbow to the ribs.
“Don’t tell him that,” Dane said. “He prefers to lower people’s expectations so he can catch them by surprise with his occasional flashes of brilliance.”
He opened the door, held it for the others, and stepped through. The interior of the Royal Geographical Society smelled of books, lemons, and age. The years seemed to emanate from the walls, ghostly echoes of the many great men who had walked these halls.
“Welcome to the Royal Geographical Society. How may I help you?” The speaker was an attractive woman of early middle years dressed in a business suit. Her white shirt was unbuttoned a bit farther down than was strictly professional and, as she leaned toward Dane, elbows propped on the counter, she pushed her breasts up for full effect. Bones stifled a cough and turned away, but not before Dane saw him grinning.
“Yes,” Dane said, glancing at her name tag, which read Sarah Richards, and quickly redirecting his gaze to the woman’s eyes, which were actually a very pretty bluish-green, “we’re hoping to do some research on Percy Fawcett. Do you…” he broke off as Kaylin ran her fingers along his forearm. What was she playing at? And after he’d just assured Jade there was nothing to be jealous about. Struggling to suppress the heat that was rising up the back of his neck, he recovered his train of thought and started again.
“Do you have a Fawcett section, or anything like that?” He hoped that if he played the polite, but uninformed, American, he might gain a little extra helpfulness from the woman at the counter.
“We have many documents pertaining to Fawcett.” Her eyes flitted toward Kaylin for only a fraction of a second, but Dane did not miss the disapproval, if not outright anger, that burned there. “Might you be looking for something in particular?”
“Yes, we particularly want information on his last expedition.” She pursed her lips and her eyes narrowed, doubtless wondering if he was one of the many whack jobs seeking Fawcett’s legendary lost city, so he hurried on. “Also, we’re looking for a particular painting. It’s a portrait of him seated, holding a book…”
“Of course.” The smile was back. “That portrait hangs in the room just up the staircase and to the left. For your research, you should go to the Foyle room. Ask for Benjamin and he will be happy to assist you. He is our resident Fawcett expert.” After checking their identification, and entering their names into a computer, she pointed them to a grand staircase, its ornately carved banisters polished to a high sheen.
Dane thanked her for her help, and as they turned to walk away, Kaylin hooked her arm in his and laid her head on his shoulder.
“What are you up to?” He kept his voice low.
“Ditch me,” she whispered. “And make it obvious.”
“Say what?”
“I want to know if Thomas was here. That lady’s got the hots for you. Make an excuse, go back and flirt with her a little bit, and then ask her to check and see if Thomas was here.”
“You are one wicked woman.” Now her flirtatious behavior made sense. As they reached the stairwell, he pulled away from her. “I’ll meet you up in the reading room,” he said to Kaylin, his voice loud enough to be heard in the quiet lobby, but not so much as to make it obvious that he wanted to be overheard. “I have a few more questions I forgot to ask. I’ll be there in a little while.”
Kaylin pouted and shot an angry glance toward the front counter before flouncing away up the stairs. Dane had to hand it to her. She was quite the actress when she needed to be.
“Your girlfriend seems upset,” Sarah observed as Dane headed back in her direction. The smile on her face said that she, by contrast, was anything but unhappy at this turn of events.
“Not my girlfriend.” Dane leaned easily against the counter and grinned. “My ex. It’s complicated though. We still have to work together, which isn’t exactly easy. You saw how she is.”
“Some women just don’t know when it’s time to let go.” Sarah ran the tip of her tongue across the bottom of her upper lip. So ostentatious was her attempt at flirtation that Dane nearly choked. “So,” she continued, “what else can I do for you?”
Why couldn’t Bones have been the one to hit on her? He was a natural with this stuff. Nothing to be done for it now, so Dane plunged in. “I need a recommendation of a nice, intimate place for dinner tonight, and a phone number for someone to join me.”
He flashed his most winning smile, feeling all the while like a buffoon. Surprisingly, it worked. Sarah hastily jotted her name and number on a slip of paper and tucked in into his pants pocket. He forced himself not to react when her fingers roved a bit too far afield. This girl would be perfect for Bones, but then again… Realizing his thoughts were drifting, he refocused his attention on the task at hand.
“I do have one other, much less important, request. Can you tell me if a friend of mine visited here sometime in the last year or so?”
“I’m not supposed to do that.” Sarah looked at him uncertainly. “Those records are private.”
“And I’m not supposed to make dinner dates with beautiful women when I’m supposed to be conducting research.” He gave her a wicked grin. “I don’t want any private information; just tell me whether or not he was here.”
“All right, but if you get me sacked, you owe me two dinners. What’s the name?”
“Thomas Thornton.” He watched as she typed in the name. She was actually kind of cute in a lush, full-figured sort of way. Perhaps he should make time for dinner tonight. What was he thinking? He already had one girl mad at him. He didn’t need any more complications in that area.
“Ah! Here he is. Thomas Thornton. I can’t tell you exactly when he visited, but I can confirm he was here.”
“That’s perfect. You’ve been a big help. I’ll just head up and meet my friends.” He turned and headed back toward the staircase.
“Dane?” He glanced back at her. “I get off at five o’clock. No pun intended.”
“Gotcha.” He hurried up the stairs, already wondering if he should make an excuse, or just not call her at all.
He found Bones and Kaylin checking out the original painting of which Thomas had left them the picture, which hung between two more traditional portraits of the famed explorer.
“He looks like he’s made of old leather,” Dane observed. “Hard to believe he never came back from his last expedition. He always seemed like the kind of guy nothing could stop.”
“Not much to see here, I’m afraid.” Bones said. “No small, semi-hidden images that we couldn’t see in our picture. No secret codes.” He glanced at the other two portraits. “Both of these have little plates at the bottom. Let’s see, Donated by Andrew Wainwright, grand nephew of Percy Fawcett. No brass plate on our painting, though.”
They looked at the portrait a little while longer. Finally, agreeing there was nothing else to be found here, they headed for the Foyle Room.
The Foyle Reading Room was a pleasant surprise — a contemporary oasis inside this classic Victorian structure. Sunlight shone through wide plate glass windows that angled inward, illuminating the counter that ran the length of the wall, wrapping around the bends in the oddly-shaped exterior wall. Workstations were set up along its length, with permanent computer setups in the center and laptop connections on either side. Bookcases lined the wall to his right, and various cabinets, counters, and worktables were arranged throughout the room. It had the feel of a university library.