She hurried back to her office, took a card from her purse, and punched up the number on her cell.
“Yeah?”
“Hi, this is Sarah from the R.G.S.”
“Yeah.”
Not a great talker, this one. “You asked me to call you if anyone came around asking after Fawcett’s copy of The Lost World.”
Silence.
“Are you there?”
“I am.”
Five hundred pounds, she reminded herself. She could put up with rudeness for that. And it wasn’t as if she was doing anything wrong — just passing along a bit of information. She quickly gave the man on the other end the names of the three visitors, and a brief description. She felt a pang of guilt when she mentioned Dane’s name. She rather liked him and he was quite handsome.
“Okay, good. Are they still there?”
“No, they just left.” She looked out the break room window, and was surprised to see that the three were standing on the pavement, engaged in a serious discussion. “They’re just outside the building, though.”
“Good. Keep an eye on them until I get there. There’s another five hundred in it for you.”
The call ended. Sarah took a deep breath and peered outside again, hoping Dane and his friends had departed, but no, they were still there. She had a sinking feeling that she had just made a terrible mistake.
Chapter 9
They had almost reached the street when Dane hesitated. Something was bothering him — a feeling that he was right on the verge of making a connection. But what? He was sure it was important, if only he could put a finger on just what it was.
Turnin back to look at Lowther Lodge, his eyes fell on the entrance and the bust next to the door.
And it struck him.
“Kaylin, what was it that Thomas wrote on the back of the picture?”
“Let me see.” She fished in her purse, looking confused. She pulled out a sheet and handed it to him.
There were five letters at the top, and then a series of number pairs.
MRKHM
2-5 1-17 1–1 2-13 4-10 3–3 1-10 1-22 1-12 3–3 1-19
1-23 1–6 1-8 4–6 4-11 6–9 7-1 7-10 8-16
Could it be that simple?
“Did either of you catch the name on the bust by the front door?”
“Markham!” Kaylin’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her face. “Do you think it could refer to the bust?”
“I think it’s worth a look. Let’s go.”
They hurried back to the front door and Dane read the inscription aloud.
“This monument to the memory of Sir Clements Markham, KCB, FRS, and for 12 years President of the Royal Geographical Society, was erected in the year 1921 by the Peruvian Nation in gratitude for his services as historian of their country.”
“And this means… what, exactly?” Bones rubbed his chin and peered doubtfully at the sculpture of Markham.
“I wonder,” Dane said, looking again at the numbers Kaylin had written down, “if these pairs of numbers correspond to lines and letters in the inscription.” He knelt to take a closer look. “If I’m correct, the first letter would be…” He consulted the paper, and then counted over to the letter L. The next number pair gave him the letter E. As he continued, his certainty that he was on the right track grew. His heart beat faster as he called out each letter. When he was finished, he stood to look at the paper on which Kaylin had recorded the letters, though he already knew what the message said.
“Let Albert be your guide.”
“Great,” Bones said. “Now we just need to find this Albert dude and ask him where to go next. Any idea where to start looking?”
“Across the street.”
At first, Dane thought Kaylin was joking, but her expression was deadly serious. She arched her eyebrows in an ‘Are you doubting me?’ look, and put her hands on her hips.
“Okay,” Dane said. “I’ll bite. Who or what is Albert?”
“Just across the street, in Kensington Gardens, is a well-known memorial to Prince Albert.”
“Seriously?” Bones crowed. “Is he in a can? Do we need to let him out?”
“I’ll wager that’s what the message is referring to,” Kaylin said, rolling her eyes at Bones’s weak attempt at a joke.
“Sounds good to me. Let’s check it out.”
The Albert Memorial consisted of an ornate canopy, nearly two hundred feet high, set above a gilded statue of a seated Prince Albert. Mosaics decorated portions of the exterior, and sculptures devoted to the arts and sciences sat atop the pillars and in corner niches. Around the base was a marble frieze, and at each corner a sculpture representing one of the Victorian era industries: Agriculture, Commerce, Engineering, and Manufacturing. Steps on each side led up to the memorial, and ringing the base were decorative railings, with even more elaborate sculptures at each corner. It was this set of sculptures that caught Dane’s eye. Each displayed a group of figures on and around a beast of burden, and was named for a region of the world: Africa, Europe, Asia, and America.
The America sculpture featured a bison, with three figures, one male and two female, all rendered in the classic style — European facial features, flowing robes and, as Bones put it, “topless.” Each wore a headdress that reflected Native American stylings, and two of the figures held stylized spears.
“It’s got to be the America sculpture, right?” Bones asked, walking over to lay his hand on the bison’s head. “I mean, we’re looking for connections to the Amazon, so what else could it be?”
They scrutinized the sculpture with care, examining every last detail, but none of them could infer even the most tenuous connection to Fawcett or his expedition. Finally, they were forced to conclude they were on the wrong track. They circled the base of the memorial, first examining the other sculptures, then stepping back and taking in the memorial as a whole, hoping something would leap out at them. It did not.
“I don’t understand.” Kaylin, usually so positive, hung her head. “It says to let Albert be our guide. How could it not be this memorial? It’s right across the road from the R.G.S., and there’s Albert just sitting there. This has got to be it.”
Dane agreed with her. He was convinced a clue of some sort was right there for them all to see, but, for the life of him, he could not see what it might be. He looked up at the gilded figure of Prince Albert, as if the answer lay in his lifeless gaze.
And it struck him like a slap in the face!
“Bones, I need a big diversion.” To his friend’s credit, he did not so much as bat an eye.
“How long?” He was frowning thoughtfully, the mental gears obviously turning at a rapid pace.
Dane took another look at the memorial— the rail, the steps, and the sculpture itself — and did a quick calculation. “Two minutes ought to do it. Can you handle that?”
“Are you kidding, bro? I thought you were going to give me a challenge. I got this.”
As Bones turned away, Dane slipped off toward the opposite side of the memorial. Thankful for the sparse assemblage of tourists, he quickened his pace, reaching the far side just as Bones began to shout.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please? I need everyone over here for just a moment!”
Dane stole a glance in his friend’s direction. Bones was holding Kaylin’s hand and calling out for everyone to join them, beckoning to the recalcitrant ones. Judging by the look on her face, he had not clued her in on whatever it was he was about to do. A few curious people were making their way toward the couple, but several more hung back, uncertainty painting their faces.