Hays Mews, London
‘More than meets the eye?’ Michael asked. ‘Emily, I’m not sure I know what that means.’ It was starting to seem likely that her grief was getting the better of her reasoning.
Emily, however, clung to the detail and its possibilities. Perhaps, in the midst of the burning question, she would find a temporary respite for the emotions of the morning.
‘There were two men here, Mike,’ she announced, wiping her cheeks dry. ‘I heard most of what they were saying in the office, and one of them asked the other if the manuscript was a map. He pointed out that it didn’t look like one.’
‘A mistake,’ Michael repeated.
‘That’s just it: the other one was convinced. He knew he was staring at text, but he saw something else.’
Michael let out his breath, recognizing where she was leading. ‘More than meets the eye . . .’
‘Exactly.’
Emily paused, collecting her thoughts, then sat up straight, blinking the moisture from her eyes.
‘Mike, I don’t know exactly what this means, if anything at all, but one thing I don’t believe is that Andrew was killed for some random break-in, or thieves stealing the wrong document.’
‘Emily, I know it’s awful. I loved him too, but—’
‘No!’ Emily stood as the word came out, almost a yell. Michael went silent, stunned by her sudden ferocity.
‘I won’t accept it,’ Emily said, her voice quieter but the tears returning. ‘I do not accept it. There is more going on here. Andrew did not die for nothing.’
Her husband sat quietly. He couldn’t fault his wife’s grief, but he felt it was leading her to irrational conclusions. ‘Em, even if you were right that there was more to this manuscript than just text, what difference would it make? These men wanted their “map”, and they got it.’
Emily seemed to stare down at him far longer than the few seconds her silence actually occupied, before responding with two quiet, firm words.
‘Not quite.’
Michael’s brow wrinkled. Rather than explain, Emily turned and walked away from him. It was time to share with her husband the piece of information she’d kept from the investigators. Walking to a bureau at the side of the room, she slid open a small drawer and extracted an archival file. Returning to the sofa, she stood before Michael.
‘What those men apparently didn’t realize, was that the document they were after is not a single page long. It’s two. And the second page is right here.’