Justice (18 page)
Authors: Jeffrey Salane
The flight passed quickly and the total amount of research everyone had done in that time was staggering. Vivian had memorized the British Library storage systems Ben, Jules, and Merlyn had all studied their copy of the
Mutus Liber
so closely that M wouldn’t be surprised if they were now able to draw the book themselves from memory. Cal had done some major research on the insides of his eyelids … but that might have had to do with the medicine Keyshawn gave him when his hand started to hurt midflight. But the most miraculous studying that had happened on the plane was M’s learning how to land safely.
The meadow, it turned out, was more like a slight disturbance in a dense forest. Still, M didn’t waver when the time came, and the jet touched down smoothly. As soon as the engines were quiet, she ripped off her mask, hurried outside, and dropped to her knees to kiss the cold, sweet ground.
‘You were amazing,’ said Jules from behind her. ‘None of us could have flown this thing.’
M rolled on her back and looked up at the sky from which she had now descended. ‘Let’s just not make a habit of getting around like this, okay?’
‘Promise,’ said Jules, helping her friend back up. ‘Now let’s get inside and change. We can’t go to London dressed like this.’
‘Who knows,’ said M with a laugh. ‘Maybe skintight, wire-laced jumpsuits with black masks are the fashion du jour in the UK?’
Ben walked off the plane and handed out what he called street-safe garb: jeans, white T-shirts, black sweaters, and black peacoats.
‘Won’t it look suspicious if we’re all dressed the same?’ asked Merlyn.
‘Nah,’ said Ben. ‘You’ll just look like Brits to the tourists and you’ll look like tourists to the Brits. It’s a win-win wardrobe. Now let’s go catch our train.’
‘What about this?’ asked Keyshawn, holding up the book.
‘Leave it here,’ ordered Ben. ‘The jet is as safe a place as we can hope for.’
The walk to the train station was beautiful as the canopy of trees reached in every direction, practically blotting out the sun, even in the winter weather, where only a few leaves clung to their branches. Eventually the forest cleared and a surging intersection of traffic stood before them. Down the road, a small blue sign read,
CITY CENTRE
. They followed the arrow on the sign, bought tickets, and boarded a train. Destination: London. Destination:
Mutus Liber numéro deux
. And most probably, if M’s hunch was correct, Destination: danger.
During the ride, M borrowed Vivian’s tablet and scoured the internet. The
Mutus Liber
was fascinating, mysterious, and a Masterful mark, but it didn’t sit right with her. And, truth be told, it was Geoffrey Chaucer, of all factors, who made her stop and think. Why
this
edition of the book? Why now? The
Mutus Liber
had been around since 1677. Seriously, there had been plenty of time to steal it. So whatever the reason for stealing the books was, M rationalized that there must have been a new discovery about these editions. And the newly unearthed fourth book must hold a special, vital clue. Why else would someone go to such lengths to hide it away from the world?
Did Dr Lawless really want to create the philosopher’s stone? Or was it John Doe who wanted the stone? Or was the stone not as important as she was led to believe it could be?
‘What are you looking up?’ asked Keyshawn, sliding into the seat next to her.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ M asked under her breath.
‘You have a lot of questions, don’t you?’
‘Why do you have those old books hidden behind your bookshelves?’
Keyshawn’s eyes betrayed him – he was obviously taken aback by M’s query. ‘To study, of course,’ he said carefully. ‘Ancient texts can unlock a lot of secrets.’
‘And why would that book by Chaucer have a drawing so similar to the clock in Prague?’ M asked pointedly. ‘What is that thing, anyway?’
‘You stumble across the most interesting things, don’t you, Freeman?’ he asked as he let out a sigh. ‘That
thing
is an astrolabe.’
‘And what does it do?’
‘It’s a mapping device.’
‘And it maps …’ M started his next sentence for him.
Keyshawn paused and tossed his head back. Whatever she was driving toward, it was definitely making him uncomfortable.
‘The universe.’
‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘but it sounded like you said that an astrolabe can map out the universe.’
‘Because that’s what I said,’ he confirmed. ‘The astrolabe maps the sun, the moon, and the stars, all based on a person’s precise location on the Earth. It’s a tool that’s been around for centuries, used by astronomers and astrologers.’
‘How does it work?’ asked M.
‘To understand it,’ said Keyshawn, falling quickly into his excited teacher voice, ‘you’ve first got to know that it was developed when people thought the Earth was the center of the universe. The astrolabe is essentially a basic model of the sky. The tool consists of three specific parts. The rete is the top piece and it corresponds to the positions of the brightest stars in the sky. The plate is the second piece and it relates to a system of coordinates. The mater is the final piece and it creates a grid and system of numbers and measurements that help compute the shifting heavens.’
‘And what’s all that mean in English?’ asked M.
‘It means that the three parts together could tell people what time it was, based on the position of the stars or the sun in the sky. It could tell people what direction they were heading or sailing, and some people swear it could predict when comets enter our little corner of the universe if you
had the right calculations. It’s basically the world’s earliest computer.’
‘Wow,’ said M.
‘
Wow
’s an understatement,’ said Keyshawn. ‘And while you most certainly should never have gone through my things, the book you found must have been Chaucer’s
Treatise on the Astrolabe
. He wrote it in 1391 for, it’s believed, his son. It’s the first technical essay on the astrolabe in the English language.’
‘That heavy thing was an essay!’ said M.
‘Yeah, they built books to last back then,’ said Keyshawn. ‘But why are you asking about astrolabes?’
‘Because I don’t believe in coincidences,’ said M. ‘And I don’t think you do, either. Between your Chaucer book and the Prague clock, there’s a bigger secret here, isn’t there? What are we going to steal, Keyshawn, for real?’
‘You’re a Fulbright now, M,’ he huffed. ‘We don’t steal; we protect. Remember that.’ Then he jumped up from his seat and moved to the other side of Ben. M had apparently struck a nerve again.
Stealing or protecting, she still needed to know what they were really after. She’d taken the Takeaway Rembrandt at face value and she didn’t want to fall into the same trap again.
The train rolled on until they finally reached King’s Cross station, where they were greeted by a massive windowed awning and a stalwart clock tower keeping careful watch over its London domain. Inside the station the crew hardly talked to one another, each walking with purpose, deep in thought, deep in their own personal spaces until the airy
architecture brought them back into the moment merely because it blossomed so brilliantly. The concourse of clustered trains almost magically erupted into a wide-open area where intricate white girders rose out of the floor and lifted the older brick building into a skylike dome that was at once majestic and modern.
Somehow the room reflected how M felt. Inexplicably excited, filled up with hope, angst, confusion, and relief that if there was another plan to destroy the world, to destroy places like this that people worked so hard to build, that she was in a position to stop it from ever happening. And with that renewed vigor, M and the crew turned up Euston Road toward the British Library.
It was a quick walk, even in the face-numbing winter wind, and the library was another sight to behold. The entry gate led visitors into a low-lying courtyard that allowed the older architecture of neighboring buildings to steal the spotlight. From there, the crew entered the library and went directly to the front desk.
‘Hello,’ said Ben cheerfully. ‘We’re here for the tour.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said the librarian, a young man with a surprisingly punk haircut. ‘The tour starts at the top of the hour. We’ll meet here, but in the meantime, feel free to visit our treasures display.’
Ben thanked him and led the group into another room that looked less like a library and more like a museum. Ancient books were encased in bulletproof, fireproof, and sweaty palms–proof glass. Looking through the collection, M felt ashamed that they had simply left the
Mutus Liber
sitting on the jet’s seat like a well-used street map. This
was how such books should be treated. A first edition of Shakespeare’s plays sat next to the Gutenberg Bible, which was next to the Magna Carta, breathtakingly old … and valuable. Deep inside herself, M felt an unmistakable itch, a knee-jerk reaction to being surrounded by so much cultural wealth, like a hunger she didn’t expect to have. The Lawless side of M had reared its ugly head, though she would never admit it to anyone. She wanted desperately to enjoy art the same way she had as a child, with a sense of wonder, not a sense of ownership. But the Lawless School had taught her well and, even in passing, she had already cased the entire room, noting camera positions, thickness of the protective glass, number of steps all the way back to King’s Cross. You can take the girl out of the Lawless School, but can you take the Lawless School out of the girl? It was exactly what Ben had been trying to impress upon her about her friends. And she didn’t believe him at the time, but given her own secret reaction to the treasures, she wasn’t so sure now.
To M’s relief the hour struck and the tour group formed around the visitors’ desk. It was a big group, which was good. As the punk librarian, Ethan, excitedly explained the history behind the library, he led the group through the building. And when the time was right, while in a back room overlooking the main reading area, M, Jules, and Cal circled behind the librarian.
‘So that’s where the magic happens?’ asked M, stepping past Ethan to look out onto the silent floor crammed with an army of people diligently focused over their desks.
‘It is?’ asked Jules as she swept by Ethan’s other side, holding Cal’s hand and tugging him with her, which caused
him to brush against the librarian.
‘Excuse me,’ said Ethan. ‘I know the library is exciting, but let’s all please watch out for each other. No more of this bumbling and bouncing about. This is precisely why we do not allow anyone under eighteen to enter the reading rooms without a parent or guardian present.’
But Ethan’s attempt at a lecture fell on deaf ears as the trio gawked out the window. So he merely continued the tour as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. And as far as he knew, nothing really had.
But Ethan didn’t know that Cal had just palmed the librarian’s access card.
Cal slipped the card to Vivian, who had the library’s catacombs memorized. Then Merlyn and Keyshawn took control of the tour with a litany of detailed questions meant to excite and engage Ethan, who was, luckily, very easy to excite and engage. Vivian and M drifted to the back of the group and retraced their steps back to a door they had passed earlier with a card lock next to it. Vivian swiped the card and the door clicked open. Everything was going according to plan.
‘Find a computer,’ said Vivian as she and M entered a hallway that led to more doors. The third door on the left was open and M found a computer at someone’s desk. They ducked inside the room, and Vivian stood guard at the closed door while M sat at the computer, ready to channel her lessons from Code.
As it turned out, she didn’t need world-class hacking skills to access this computer. All she had to do was notice the photographs in engraved, customized frames
on the desk.
SOPHIE
and
THOMAS
– two cute kids, too easy a password.
Once in, M searched for the
Mutus Liber
and found it was being held six floors below the ground. ‘Got it,’ she exclaimed just as the door to the room creaked open. She braced herself for a flight situation, but Vivian was more prepared for a fight: she grabbed a sizable soccer trophy from the bookshelf and jumped back toward the door.
‘Whoa!’ said Cal as he cowered in defense. ‘It’s me, guys. Geez.’
‘Sorry,’ said Vivian. ‘Couldn’t take any chances.’
‘Vivian, would you have clocked an innocent librarian if it hadn’t been Cal?’ asked M, genuinely shocked.
‘We’ll never know,’ said Vivian. ‘Now, what the blazes are you doing here?’
‘I’m your backup. Ben’s suggestion,’ said Cal. ‘In case, well, in case there’s more Master trouble.’
‘That doesn’t sound like Ben,’ said M. ‘I sort of expected him to keep an eye on you.’
‘Desperate times,’ replied Cal. ‘What can I say?’
‘Fine. Let’s just get moving before someone else finds us here,’ said Vivian.
The elevator to the storage shelves was down a long hall, and the quiet walk was nearly interminable; they all expected to encounter staff at any minute. But the library was running at full capacity, and M supposed it was possible that everyone was busy with their everyday jobs, which apparently didn’t include roaming the halls in search of twelve-year-old intruders.
Their mistake
, she thought.
