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Ian was concerned, that was unacceptable.
That same collection would be the reason he was finally able to
give something back to Lucas.
He d been working on this collection since he d left home for
university. It had started with a text from his father, a 1499 volume
of Greek letters edited by the humanist and archbishop Marcus
Musurus. Ian had accepted it, flabbergasted at his father s
lavishness, and promised from that day forward to value the
written word as highly as James did. That single book, recognized
by his peers and professors at Oxford for its true worth, spawned
years of hunting down elusive texts, acquiring manuscripts few
others in the world had. A few were given to him, based on his
growing reputation. Others were purchased using the museum s
funds, with the understanding they would revert to the museum
library unless Ian bought them outright. The rest were the result of
every penny he had ever saved.
Lucas was not the only one with little financial hold on the
world. Everything Ian had ever invested in was contained in this
one small room. It was an eclectic collection, to be sure, but that
was the exact reason it was the perfect tool to translate the tablets.
Unlike others in his field, his classical knowledge spanned
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cultures, primarily because he was so widely read. If the language
on the tablets truly was the result of multiple heritages, this was
how he would best decipher it.
Dropping the pack onto the edge of his desk, Ian turned to face
the shelves, rubbing his hands together as he scanned along the
rows. He already knew which volumes he wanted to take, but
something might have slipped his mind that could prove
He froze.
Something was out of order.
His gaze jumped back to the start of the row, this time traveling
slower along the spines. He only made it three books in when he
realized what was wrong.
These weren t his books.
Or rather, a select few weren t his books.
He closed the gap to the shelves, his heart in his throat. There
weren t any gaps in the line-up. Those that had been taken had
been replaced with others of similar size and coloring. But he d
gone over these shelves too many times not to have them
memorized. He knew these books as well as he knew his own
body. Whoever had taken them hadn t wanted it to be known or
discovered any time soon. In fact, the only person who would have
probably guessed at all that something was wrong was Ian.
Quickly, he counted the proxied texts. By the time he reached
eight, he realized the titles hadn t been random.
As he scrambled for his phone, he swallowed down the bile
burning its way up his gullet. Most of the stolen books were one of
a kinds. Irreplaceable.
But worse than that, someone had violated his sanctum.
 Are you done already? Lucas s chipper voice made Ian
cringe.  Where can I meet 
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 They re gone.
He stared at the shelves for several seconds before Lucas
responded.
 What s gone?
 My books. The ones I needed for the translation. They re
gone. Everything I had on Egyptian and Sumerian has been
replaced by something else. The panic was starting to blind him.
His ears buzzed.  They were here, Lucas. Sultis was here.
 Get out of there. The order was crisp and loud. In the
background, traffic got louder.  I m coming to 
The doorknob turned. Ian jumped away from the edge of the
desk, nearly dropping his phone as he stared at the man standing in
the doorway.
 This would have been so much easier if you d simply stayed
in the ground, Sultis said.
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CHAPTER 15
Though the background voice over the line was faint, Lucas
had heard it too many times not to recognize it. Alarm battled with
terror. Both emotions lost to pure anger. Anger at Sultis, anger at
the situation, but most of all, anger at himself for not sticking with
Ian, no matter what his arguments.
Though he had already been moving as soon as Ian had told
him what happened, Lucas broke into a hard run, darting through
moving cars with little thought about getting hit. One honked its
horn as it whizzed by behind him. Another s brakes squealed to
avoid collision. Lucas blocked it all out as he dove over the hood
of an idling Mondeo, sliding effortlessly across the sleek navy [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]