CHAPTER 15

  

I walked frantically along the edges of the reading room, making sure I hadn’t missed Lane. Nobody paid the slightest bit of attention to me. An agitated academic searching in vain for documents wasn’t an uncommon sight.

Lane could have needed a coffee break. It was possible. He’d been tired, after all. There could be any number of reasons why he wasn’t there. It didn’t mean he was the one following me. But in his absence, there was no way to be sure.

Giving myself a moment to collect my confused thoughts, I leaned against a pillar underneath the wall of paintings.

That’s when I saw him.

Lane sat at a large table in a smaller room, separated by glass doors, off to the side of the main reading room. It was a room used for viewing oversized documents like maps.

I watched him through the glass for a few moments, letting my relief sink in. It looked as if he hadn’t moved in hours, except for scribbling in the notebook that lay open in front of him. Several items in addition to the notebook lay flat on the table. His glasses slipped down his slender nose as he looked down at one of them, deep in thought.

Lane gave a nearly imperceptible startled jerk of his body as I opened the glass door to enter the small room. He looked up and readjusted his glasses.

“What’s up?” he asked in a low voice.

“I’m being followed.”

Lane’s face darkened as he looked out into the main room.

“He’s not there now,” I said. “I hopped in a cab.”

“Did you see who it was?”

“It was more of a feeling.”

“But you’re sure?” He kept glancing between me and the room beyond.

“Yes, I’m sure. This wasn’t one of our theoretical conversations in San Francisco. There was someone watching me.”

“Where did it start?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. It must have been when I left here.”

“But how could—”

“You found it!” I exclaimed, pointing at the object in front of Lane on the table.

It was my bracelet. Only it wasn’t.

I hadn’t noticed it immediately because the ruby piece was only a portion of a lively, colorful painting of dozens of people in a festive royal court. Mughal courts would have looked like a lot of fun if I hadn’t known that the women were most likely part of a harem.

One corner of the painting was highlighted more than the rest. Set slightly apart from the other subjects, a fair-skinned woman wore a thick armlet of gold and rubies clamped to her upper arm. The shape of gold and rubies was the same as the one Rupert had sent me.

The painting had the effect of making the ruby piece look unworldly. Leaning over the table to get a closer look, I could see why scholars thought it wasn’t real. The gems seemed too large to be real.

The armlet dwarfed the other pieces of jewelry that adorned the girl and the people around her. It looked as if it could be a symbol, much like when rulers of high stature were depicted standing on a globe.

“It’s one of them,” Lane said.

“Who is she?” I pointed at the stunning woman. I wondered if she had been as beautiful in real life as she looked in the painting.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Not yet. That’s the trouble with the destruction of original documents.” He spoke in a quiet voice I hardly recognized. His eyes held an intensity that stunned me.

“Wars,” he continued. “Infighting. Poor record keeping. Most of all, the simple ravages of time.”

As he spoke the words, I shivered. He spoke with a prepossessed authority. If I were the type of person to succumb to romantic fancy, I would have been convinced he had been there himself.

“The artifacts we’re left with,” he continued, “are imperfectly understood at best.”

“And we,” I said, “put the pieces together.”

My statement shook him out of his reverie. He had the faintest smile on his lips as he looked down at the corner of the painting. When he looked back up at me, his eyes were back to their usual veiled countenance.

I took a last look at the painting before stepping toward the door.

“Wait,” he said. “Where are you going?”

“You said you hadn’t figured it out yet,” I said. “I’m leaving you in peace to finish working.”

“But what about—”

“I lost him,” I said.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to go off on our own.”

“That’s a nice opinion,” I said. “It doesn’t happen to be mine.”

Lane stood up. I was already at the door. He took a step forward toward me, but stopped and looked at his materials strewn about the desk. There was no way he could follow me out.

“See you tonight,” I said with a wave.

“Jaya—”

“Be aware of anyone suspicious,” I said as I walked through the door.

I glanced back to make sure Lane hadn’t followed me out of the side room, then stopped to check in with Jeremy at the main reading room desk. He said he’d found enough possible references that I could spend the rest of the summer going through the archives, which he added was fine with him. The place could use a breath of fresh air. I told Jeremy I’d be in touch, then went in search of my bag, which I found where I had left it outside the reading room.

I checked to see if my camera would turn on. No luck. Instead, I found a thirty-minute photo shop. I handed over the memory card and asked for prints.

I drank a large coffee around the corner while I waited, then ordered another one after picking up the photos. Tucked in the back corner of a Pret A Manger cafe, I drank syrupy coffee and flipped through the pictures.

Most of the photos prominently featured sky or sidewalk. No one in a suspicious-looking broad hat or trench coat jumped out in any of the shots, though in one a man was in fact wearing a trench coat. In another, a pair of bright red sneakers in the crowd reminded me of something Rupert would have liked. He had a similar pair before. I had always found them a bit showy for men’s shoes, but he was quite attached to them.

I sipped my coffee, feeling unsettled by this newfound sentimental bone in my body. I flipped through the photos one more time before giving up and heading back outside.

As I walked down the street, I realized I hadn’t felt the sensation of being followed since I’d hopped in the cab. I took a deep breath of not-so-fresh air. Without any other ideas, I walked back to the hotel.

I had left a “do not disturb” sign on the door to my room. Everything appeared to be exactly as I’d left it. I had left my extra pair of shoes a few inches inside the door, leaving only enough room for me to slip out. Unless the tooth fairy had let herself in, nobody had entered the room.

I found my music player at the bottom of my bag and slipped on my headphones. I found a soothing tabla track and lay down on the bed for a nap. I set the alarm so I’d have enough time for a run and a shower before dinner.

  

At the appointed meeting time, I made my way down to the lobby with wet hair and a growling stomach. I found Lane already waiting for me. He was seated in a worn yet regal high-backed chair at the window. He was leaning back in a relaxed pose, an unlit cigarette in his hand. He faced the window, but he must have sensed my presence and turned his head.

“You could have waited for me outside so you could smoke,” I said.

“I didn’t think that would be a good idea,” he said. “I’m being followed, too.”