The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI 5)

“I don’t know, but I do believe she has them all. Radu, trust me. I have a feeling about this.”

“Then we need to see those pages.”

“Yes. She is Romanian, you know. I could smell it on her even before she told me, gypsy blood calling to mine. Never has that happened before, even when I sought other blood for you. No, this was unique. And I don’t believe she found the pages in some old book at the museum. I think she had them already, brought them into the museum, planted them there so she could ‘discover’ them at the proper time.”

“But how did she get the originals?”

“Are you not listening? She’s Romanian. I knew when she announced she’d found the pages in that Marcus Aurelius, it wasn’t possible, that she’d made it up. Like you, though, I don’t know how she came to have the pages and why she picked now to announce it. She made a huge point of asking the person who stole the Voynich from the Beinecke to return it so the pages could be reunited. Yes, she said those exact words. Reunited. She knows something, Radu. And then there is her blood—”

Radu remained silent, watching his twin pace, back and forth, back and forth. Roman stopped, whirled around, and out it all came. “Is it possible the lost pages were somehow found by her family long ago and passed down through the generations as the book was written by ours? We will research her, see if she has a twin. Maybe that is why she can decode the language. Her blood, Radu, I know it’s our blood. I felt it calling to me today when I met her. Can she read the Voynich? Why not? We can.”

Roman struck his fist to his palm. “But why is getting the Voynich together so important to her? You saw the press conference online. She begged for the thief to bring back the Voynich, to reunite the pages. Why? And if it’s so important to her, then why didn’t she steal the Voynich herself?”

He flipped his hand toward the computer. “Turn off the camera, bring Arlington back. Research Isabella Marin, Radu. And I will get those pages.”

Radu said, “I wish we could find out who stole the book from Yale.”

“Perhaps Isabella Marin will help us find the answer. Does the thief also want the pages? We’ll see, won’t we?”

Radu turned to the falcon, pulsed her collar, and away she flew, coming back to them. The screen shook with the powerful thrusts of her wings. Radu looked away. It made him ill, motion sick, to watch the falcons fly like this.

Roman dropped to his knees next to his brother. He took his twin’s shoulders in his hands. “I swear to you we will cure you of this disease, I swear it.” He paused. “I love you, Radu. I want you to be able to experience the world as I do, without death hanging over your head.”

Radu clasped his brother’s hand. “I love you, too, Roman. The world as you have it—it is something I would like to try. Will you be bringing me the woman tonight?”

“You must research her thoroughly first. I want to know everything I can about her before I act.” He rose, and his eyes lit up.

Radu was sure Roman would make something happen, very soon.

“She will tell us all she knows about the Voynich and how she came by the pages,” Roman said, and kissed his brother’s cheek. “In the meantime, I have a command performance at the Home Office tomorrow. Is there anything new about Drummond I need to know?”

“Nothing after they left the house. Drummond spotted Arlington. I don’t know how, the man must have cat eyes. Did he see the camera light? I don’t know. But the latest from inside MI5 says Drummond will be there in the morning, and he and one of his Covert Eyes team will be with him. To speak with you.”

Radu sighed heavily. “They’ve caught on, Roman. They aren’t conducting any conversations by phone or email. Only in person. And whatever Drummond held in his hand as he left the house tonight—envelopes, I think—it’s very possible they’ve decided to communicate by good old-fashioned mail.”

Roman said, “Oh yes, a number of people were at the house tonight. Harry Drummond, now a full-time consultant to MI5. Nicholas Drummond and his FBI partner, Mike Caine. What’s worrisome is, of all people, that Tory bitch, Melinda St. Germaine, showed up with another FBI agent—his name’s Ben Houston, and he’s one of the Covert Eyes team.”

“Yes, very worrisome. It’s a good thing you’ll be there to talk to them. You can find out exactly how much they know and what they suspect. What are you planning, Roman?”

“I will get Marin. You’ll have her by this time tomorrow, I promise. It’s all coming together, at last. Soon, Brother, soon, you will be free.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Say, will the falcon, stooping from above,

Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove?

Admires the jay the insect’s gilded wings?

Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings?

—Alexander Pope

Hungary

1493

The battle was won, and Giovanni Sforza d’Aragona was on his way home to Italy, away from this blood-soaked land and the vicious war, back to Rimini and the warm glow of his castle and his young sons. He had ten ponies taken from the razed stables carrying jewels and trunks of gold and weapons, all recovered from the field.