Georgetown University, the next day
Remi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Sitting in her office with the door closed for privacy, she had just gotten an email from Francesco Costa, the self-styled “most famous astrologer in Sicily.”
“Dear Dr. Laurent,
I have just cast a horoscope based on the photographs of the four paintings you provided. This took quite some time, as I had to base my findings not on the modern science of astrology, but on the superstitions of the century in which they were painted.
“They do, as you suggested, provide a date for the Apocalypse. I do not know if you are a religious woman and whether such a date would hold any significance to you, but I am a devout Catholic. Despite the criticisms of the Church, I do not see a contradiction between my science and the teachings of the church. For did not God make the stars and planets? Why wouldn’t He put secrets in their arrangement and movements?
“So I, and perhaps you, can take comfort in the fact that the paintings do not predict the End Times to be upon us until the year 2500. One wonders if we will bring this date forward not through God’s plan, but our own actions. I’d like to think not, but then I read the newspaper.
“Thank you for the fascinating opportunity to study these paintings and the secret they have hidden for all this time. Also, I found that your name was familiar, and I looked you up. Your research into the cryptex is intriguing. Do you know if your book and papers on the subject will ever be translated into Italian? I would love to read them.
“Perhaps, someday, someone using your research as inspiration, will eventually find the cryptex. Who knows what secrets it might hold?
“Yours sincerely, Francesco Costa”
Who indeed! Remi couldn’t decide what was funnier, the fact that such a madman was so desperate to find the date of the Apocalypse, only for the paintings to put it off for another five centuries, or that “the most famous astrologer in Sicily” thinks that “someday” someone would find the cryptex using her research.
Well, she had found the cryptex, and unlocked it, and now she was faced with the puzzle it had led her to. A series of letters and numbers arranged seemingly at random. This was going to be a tough nut to crack.
In fact, she had been trying to crack it ever since that day in Italy, barely a week but seemingly a lifetime ago. She was growing more and more frustrated at her lack of progress, despite her skill in dealing with medieval codes.
Patience, Remi. Patience. You’ll get there in the end.
A quiet knock came at her office door. She quickly closed her email and brought up a journal article she had been reading.
Then she composed herself, got up, and opened the door. It was her boyfriend, Cyril.
Despite the late hour, he glanced both ways down the hall to make sure no one was looking before giving her a kiss. American universities frowned on faculty members dating. Some things about this country she would never understand.
“Come on in. I’m just reading,” she said.
She felt a bit guilty about not telling Cyril about her discoveries. It seemed odd that the most important man in her life would be cut off from her research. Sad to say, he had never taken it seriously, and their relationship had been a bit rocky these past few weeks.
Cyril sensed it too, because he had been quiet and cautious around her since that blowup in the restaurant. They had kissed, embraced, but hadn’t made love.
“So the case is all finished?” he asked.
Remi sat down at her desk again. “Yes. The killer was an upper-class man from New York who became obsessed with astrology and predictions of the Apocalypse. His house was filled with macabre art.”
“Like all those German Renaissance woodcuts of witch burnings?”
“Dozens of them. He would have had the complete set of Goya’s caprichos if he could have afforded them.”
“Good thing he wasn’t a multimillionaire,” Cyril said with a faint smile. He sat tentatively at the edge of her desk. It was odd to see such a strong man so indecisive. “So … will there be another case?”
I hope so. “I don’t know.”
“But probably.”
“Yes, probably.”
“I’m … sorry I’ve been so unsupportive of this new, um, venture of yours. It’s just that you’ve gotten so focused on it.”
“I’m not giving up my career as a historian,” Remi said, heading off the usual criticism.
But today he didn’t say his usual thing. Looking briefly into her eyes and then back at the floor, he said, “It’s just that these cases keep taking you away from Georgetown. I’m afraid they’ll take you away for good.”
Remi felt her heart go out to him. This man had gone through a terrible divorce, with a woman who immediately ran off with a younger man who she had most likely been seeing before the marriage ended. Other than his daughter, Cyril had no one close in his life.
No one but her.
Of course, he was frightened of losing her. That’s why he had pressured her so much to get married as soon as possible.
She still didn’t know what she thought of that.
Remi reached out and took his hand. He looked up from the floor.
“This is a good thing. The FBI said that they can extend my visa after my time here is up. I can continue my work as an independent researcher while being on retainer for the FBI. Don’t you see? I can stay!”
Cyril’s eyes lit up with a tentative hope, then clouded into uncertainty.
“But they could end that at any time.”
What you mean to say is if we get married, then I can stay for good.
Remi stood and put her arms on his shoulders.
“I’m not going anywhere, Cyril.” She kissed him softly on the lips.
He smiled, a heartfelt smile this time.
“I’m glad. It’s just that I want to be let in more. When you get on these cases it’s like you disappear, not just physically but in all ways. I want to help. Well, not chase serial killers.” He laughed, and so did she. “But I want to be there for you. You can’t do it all alone.”
His phone buzzed.
“Damn.” He checked his messages. “It’s one of my grad students. I completely forgot I was to meet him. I’m late. You have time later tonight?”
“I always have time for you, Cyril. How about I make a reservation at Perla di Napoli? My treat. And we’ll do it right this time.”
“All right.” He kissed her again. His phone buzzed a second time.
Remi shrugged. “Grad students. So impatient.”
“Got to go. Eight o’clock?”
“I’ll be there.”
Cyril left, and Remi closed her door again, feeling much better. He was a good man, and most of his flaws came from the wounds that horrible woman had given him. She promised herself to be more patient with their relationship from now on.
Remi sat back down at her desk and started staring at the scan of the code she had made. What a mess. A seemingly random series of letter and numbers. It would take ages to crack.
And she worried that the Church might get to the solution first. They had the original cryptex and its secret map, after all.
Of course, they didn’t have what she had, she thought with smug satisfaction, but with their centuries of secret archives and knowledge, they might not need it. They might be able to skip right over to the final revelation.
She needed to break this code sooner rather than later.
But how? Codes like this often took months or even years to solve.
You can’t do it all alone. That’s what Cyril had said.
She hadn’t done it all alone in this last case. Daniel had helped her. And so had the police. Even that silly little Sicilian had lent a hand.
So who could help her with this?
As soon as she asked the question, the answer became obvious.
There was a scholar at the University of Toronto who was just as brilliant at cracking codes as she was. While he worked in a later period, studying the codes of early modern times such as those used by the armies of the Napoleonic Wars, a code was a code. With his genius and her knowledge of the period, they’d make a great team.
And he’d be more than willing to help.
That, unfortunately, posed a problem. He’d be all too willing.
They’d had a fling a few years ago, before Cyril. He had been anxious to continue but she had put him off. The physical separation was too great. She didn’t want a long-distance relationship.
Would he understand that and be willing to put his feelings aside? She hoped so. This was a tempting puzzle, and he loved puzzles as much as she did.
Cyril was right. She couldn’t go it alone, not if she wanted to solve this.
Remi paused. But to bring her ex-lover aboard, she’d need to tell him she had found the cryptex. She’d need to tell him about stealing from a church in Italy.
Did she? Well, she could leave out some of the more awkward details, but a large part of cryptography was knowing the context. The Allies couldn’t have broken the Enigma machine if they hadn’t known the Germans were using it to transmit military orders and troop movements.
So an ex-lover would have to know what her current lover did not. That could be dangerous.
But this whole hunt had been dangerous, and this was the only way forward.
Putting her fears aside, she looked up the professor’s number and made the call.