Дэвид Балдаччи - The Collectors

“So this Albert Trent stuck at the intelligence committee,” Annabelle said. “What does that mean?”

Reuben spoke up. “It means he’d have access to secrets worth selling, I can tell you that. When I worked at DIA, we had briefings all the time with the Hill. The intelligence committee members and their staff all had to have top-secret clearances.”

“But spies are notorious for not telling Congress everything,” Milton said, looking up from the book. “Would Trent really know enough of value that he could sell?”

“Remember,” Stone said, “Trent was not always a staffer there. He’d once been at the CIA.”

“So he could have contacts there. Hell, maybe there, NSA, NIC, the whole alphabet,” Reuben commented. “He might have assembled a minimart for espionage.”

“But how do you get from a mole like Trent to secret codes in rare books?” Annabelle asked as she shifted her weight on the old chair she was sitting on and rubbed her tender thigh where she’d had to tear the tape off to get the book free.

“I don’t know,” Stone admitted. “We have to find out more about this Jewell English. If we could get her to crack, we could trace it back to the source. She must know the glasses are missing by now.”

“Get her to crack?” Reuben exclaimed. “Oliver, we can’t splay her out on a rack and smack her around until she talks.”

“But we can go to the FBI, show them the book and glasses, tell them our theories and let them take it from there,” Stone suggested.

“Now you’re talking,” Reuben said. “The more distance we put between us and them, whoever they are, the better.”

Stone looked over at Caleb, who hadn’t spoken one word and was sitting disconsolate in a corner.

“Caleb, what’s wrong?”

The pudgy librarian took a quick breath but didn’t make eye contact with any of them.

Annabelle, now concerned, said, “Caleb, I’m sorry if I was tough on you today. You actually did a good job.” She bit her lip as she finished the lie.

He shook his head. “It’s not that. You’re right, I’m totally inept when it comes to the stuff you do.”

“So what is it?” Stone asked again impatiently.

He took one long breath and looked up. “The police came to the library today. They gave me the keys to Jonathan’s house. The first thing I did was check on the collection.” He paused, glanced at Annabelle and leaned over and whispered into Stone’s ear. “The Psalm Book ’s been stolen.”

Stone froze for an instant while Milton and Reuben stared at Caleb. “Not the book,” Milton asked, and Caleb nodded miserably.

Annabelle said, “Hey, if five’s a crowd, I can always leave. I’m not really that into books.”

“How could it have been taken?” Stone asked, putting up a hand to stop her from departing.

“I don’t know. You need pass codes to get into the vault and safe. And neither of them was forced.”

“Who else has the codes?” Reuben asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, certainly, the lawyer for one,” Stone said. “He had the keys and code to the main vault. He could’ve written the code down before he gave it to you and made a duplicate of the key.”

“That’s right, I hadn’t thought of that. But what about the small safe? He didn’t have the code to that.”

Stone said, “You thought of it, he could have too. I mean, it wasn’t that hard. If the lawyer knew Jonathan well and had visited him at the reading room, it could have easily occurred to him. Or perhaps Jonathan gave him that code, but he didn’t give it to you for some reason.”

Caleb said, “But if he was going to steal it, why not do it before he met with me? That way I’d never even have known the book was there.”

Stone looked puzzled. “That’s true. Although I still don’t believe it’s connected to the murders.”

Caleb groaned. “Great, but Vincent Pearl will kill me when he finds out. This was going to be the crown jewel in his career. I bet he even accuses me of stealing it.”

“Well, maybe he stole it,” Milton said, glancing up from the book.

“How? He couldn’t get in the house, and he didn’t have the keys or the codes to the vault,” Caleb said. “And he well knows that that book is impossible to sell without the proper papers. He couldn’t make any money off it. He’d be arrested if he tried.”

They all sat silently until Reuben said, “It’s bad news about the book, but let’s not forget the main agenda. We go to the FBI tomorrow. At least that’s something.”

“What about Jewell English?” Milton asked.

Caleb sat up straighter, probably happy to get his mind off the stolen Psalm Book. “If she comes back to the library, I can tell her that I’ll check for her glasses in lost and found.”

Reuben said, “Hell, if she is a spy, she’s probably already out of the country.”

“It’s possible she doesn’t know the glasses are missing yet,” Stone said. “She’d only use them when looking for the coded letters. That means she might not pull them out until she comes to the reading room.”

Caleb said, “So if we get them back to her before she realizes they’re gone, she might not get suspicious.”

“We’ll need them for the FBI, but if we explain our plan, they might let us get them back to her and they can set up surveillance,” Reuben said. “Then she gets more code, passes it on to somebody, and the FBI is there to nab ’em.”

“A good plan,” Stone said.

“Actually, it’s not,” Milton said suddenly. “We can’t take the book to the FBI.”

They all looked over at him. While they’d been talking, he’d gone back and reread through the slim volume, his hands flipping through the pages faster and faster. He took the glasses off and held up the book, his hand trembling.

“Why not?” Caleb asked irritably.

In answer, Milton handed the glasses and book to Caleb. “See for yourself.”

Caleb put on the glasses and opened the book. He turned one page and then another and another. Frantic, his fingers whipped through the last part of the book. He slammed it shut, his face a mix of anger and incredulity.

Stone, his eyes squinty with concern, said, “What is it?”

Caleb said slowly, “The highlighted marks are all gone.”

Stone put on the glasses and flipped through the book. He ran his finger across one of the letters he knew had been highlighted earlier. It was as dull and lifeless as the others now. He closed the book, took off the glasses and sighed. “The highlighting chemical wash they used had a time limit built in. Then it evaporates.”

“Like vanishing ink?” Milton said.

“Somewhat more sophisticated than that,” Stone said. He added in anger, “I should have thought of that.”

“Do you know about this sort of chemical, Oliver?” Caleb asked.

“Not this process, no. But it would make sense. If you’re a spy and it’s possible that the glasses might fall into the wrong hands, the book will reveal nothing if enough time passes.” He looked at Caleb. “Whoever put the chemical wash on had to know that Jewell English would have access to the book before the effect wore off. How could that be accomplished?”

Caleb thought for a moment. “Someone would have to go into the vault and doctor the book there. Then contact her somehow and tell her which one to ask for. She comes to the library right away and asks to see it.”

Stone studied the cover of the book. “It seems that it would be quite a tedious process to mark each appropriate letter. If nothing else, it would take some time.”

“Well, people are in and out of the vaults fairly frequently. But some of the interior vaults don’t see a lot of use. However, if one of the library staff were in there for hours on end, it would be noticed, certainly.”