24

Stonehenge

“Gaea confirmed that the language of Stonehenge was Proto-Indo-European, which is what Agent Curson told me,” Salem said.

They’d packed up their evidence and hoofed it to the car, buzzed from their discovery.

“Makes sense.” Charlie opened the trunk for her.

She tossed the B&C inside and opened the passenger door. “Blessington’s a long shot.”

He slammed the trunk closed and offered her a lopsided smile. “It’s all we’ve got. Besides, it’s a nice day to fly to Ireland.”

Salem nodded, but something was bothering her. A faint but persistent prickling at the base of her neck, her instincts telling her to do something that seemed unnecessary. “Hey, I have to run back to the bathroom. Is there time?”

He’d already slid into the driver’s seat. He nodded, completely involved with his phone. She assumed he was calling in favors to book a flight.

She did need to use the bathroom, but that’s not why she ran back. She dashed into the gift shop and grabbed the first envelope and greeting card she saw, featuring a photo of the sun setting across Stonehenge. The line took forever, packed with sticky children and exhausted travelers. She wrote her name and the Campus as the return address as she inched forward, sneaking furtive glances toward the parking lot. She’d been gone too long. Charlie would worry.

Finally, she was at the front. She threw down her cash and walked away, not waiting for the change. She slid the jump drive inside the envelope, the one she’d made as backup while Gaea ran the Stonehenge numbers. She was licking the envelope when she remembered she didn’t have any stamps. Her eyes and cheeks grew hot. She couldn’t wait in line again. There wasn’t time.

She budged to the front, feeling like the worst human being ever. She looked away from the scowls. “I’m sorry,” she said to the cashier. “I just bought this card but forgot stamps.”

“Sorry, love,” the woman said. “We don’t sell postage.”

Salem’s body grew heavy. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Charlie. A scientist always backed up her research, that was all. She didn’t know what second meant, but she knew it was too big to die with her should something happen to her and Charlie. But who could she trust? Even if she had postage, she couldn’t send this to her mom, or the president, and it was too risky to send it overseas to Bel.

“Hey, you’re still here! Any better luck?”

Salem squeaked, she was so startled. She turned to the security guard who’d recommended they check out the visitor center.

“Not really,” Salem said, feeling bad about the lie. The woman’s face was so lovely and open. So much so that it gave Salem an idea. “You said you’re taking the train back to London?”

“Yep! All the way to Piccadilly Station.”

Salem dug in her purse and yanked out a twenty-pound note. “I have a favor to ask. Can you drop this off at Parliament for me?” She scribbled a name on the front. “They’ll know who to get it to.”

The woman smiled at her, puzzled. “Stamps wouldn’t cost you as much.”

“They don’t sell them here.”

“Ah.” The woman didn’t take the bill, but did take the envelope. “I was going to eat near Parliament tonight anyways.”

Salem knew the woman was being kind. She’d seen only one restaurant near Parliament, and it catered to tourists. “Thank you,” she said, gratitude etched on her face.

“It’s not a thing. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” The guard pointed over Salem’s shoulder. “Oh, and here’s your chap coming back.”

Salem swiveled just in time to witness Charlie walking toward the glass wall of the gift shop. Her chest tightened. She’d need to tell another lie. She thanked the guard one more time and charged out to him.

They left immediately.

They were ten minutes from Stonehenge when Salem realized she still had to go to the bathroom.