Sierra made the phone call to Ambrose Jones using the landline phone in the library. She explained the deal she was trying to put together.
“All right,” Jones said. “I’ll get the word out. Can’t guarantee that Loring will respond.”
“My client is very certain Loring will jump at the chance to get his hands on this particular artifact,” Sierra said. “There’s just one problem.”
“Only one?”
Sierra looked out the window of the library. The fog was already creeping through the trees and settling in the small town square.
“Mr. Chastain and I are stuck here in Fogg Lake until tomorrow morning,” she said. “The night mist has made the road out of town impassable. We’re told it will linger until daylight. That means the earliest we can get back to Seattle is tomorrow around noon.”
“No rush,” Jones said. “You know as well as I do deals like this always go down at night. That means if it happens, it will happen tomorrow night. I’ll call you as soon as I hear from the buyer.”
“My cell phone doesn’t work here. You’ll have to use the number I’m calling on—it’s a landline. The local library.”
“What time does the library open in the morning?” Jones asked.
“This particular library operates twenty-four hours a day,” Sierra said. “Call as soon as you hear anything. We’ll be here.”
“You’re spending the night in the library?”
“There’s no motel in town,” Sierra said. “Fogg Lake is filled with Foundation teams. Every trailer and every spare cabin is rented. Most of the locals are taking in Foundation staff as boarders to make a few extra bucks. Sleeping quarters are at a premium. Marge is bunking down in the back room of the general store. The Oracle graciously offered us the library basement.”
“Hang on, you’re losing me here. Who’s Marge?”
“The street lady who turned out to be a key witness in this case.”
“And the Oracle?”
“Town librarian,” Sierra said. “It’s complicated. Call as soon as you hear from the buyer.”
“Will do,” Jones said.
He ended the connection.
Sierra was seated at the librarian’s desk. She put the phone down and looked at North, who was pacing through the stacks.
“Now we wait,” she said.
North came to a halt at the desk. Before he could say anything Harmony appeared on the stairs. Energy shivered in the atmosphere.
“The fog grows stronger,” she intoned in her prophecy voice. “The danger is coming closer. This storm will end in madness and death.”
North looked at her. “Out of curiosity, do you ever do happy, cheerful, positive-thinking prophecies?”
“Sadly, not very often.” Harmony fell back into her normal voice. “Certainly not lately. How about dinner and a drink over at the restaurant? It’s lasagna night.”
“Sounds good,” North said.