Crescent Dawn (Dirk Pitt 21)

The two women studied the doll, whose clothes and extremities were well worn from the attentive play of a young girl nearly a century earlier. With tentative fingers, Summer turned the doll over and pulled off its checkerboard apron and matching calico dress. A heavy seam was visible along the doll’s back, which kept the stuffing inside. Only the stitching was crude and uneven, not matching the workmanship of the rest of the doll.

“This doesn’t look like the work of an expert seamstress,” Summer noted.

Julie rummaged through one of the other boxes until producing a tarnished silver dinner knife.

“You care to perform the surgery?” she asked nervously, handing Summer the knife.

Summer laid the doll facedown on the shelf and began sawing at the topmost stitch. The dull-edged knife was a poor match for the tough catgut thread, but she eventually cut through the first few stitches. Setting the knife aside, she pulled apart the remaining seam, opening up the back side of the doll. Inside was a compressed mass of cotton wadding.

“Sorry, Sally,” she said, carefully pulling out the wadding as if the doll were an animate object. Julie peered anxiously over Summer’s shoulder, but slumped when she saw that the doll’s torso was filled with nothing but cotton. She closed her eyes and shook her head as Summer pulled out a large ball of it.

“Silly idea,” she muttered.

But Summer wasn’t through. Peering inside the cavity, she felt around with her fingertips.

“Wait, I think there may be something in here.”

Julie’s eyes popped open as she watched Summer reach into the doll’s left leg and grab hold of an object. Summer worked it back and forth until pulling out a linen-wrapped tube several inches long. Julie leaned closer as Summer set the object on the shelf and gently unwrapped the linen. Inside was a thick piece of parchment rolled into a scroll. Summer held the top edge down, then carefully unrolled it across the shelf as both women held their breath.

The parchment proved to be blank. But they soon saw it was protecting a smaller scroll rolled inside. It was a bamboo-colored papyrus leaf with a single column of script running down its center.

“This . . . this must be the Manifest,” Julie uttered quietly, her eyes locked on the ancient document.

“It appears to be written in some sort of ancient script,” Summer noted.

Julie stared at the lettering, finding it familiar. “It appears similar to Greek,” she said, “but it’s nothing that I’ve seen before.”

“That would most likely be Coptic Greek,” thundered a male voice behind them.

The women jumped at the unexpected assertion. Spinning their heads toward the door, they were shocked to find Ridley Bannister standing in the entry. He was dressed in a thickly padded black leather jacket and pants favored by dirt-track motorcycle racers. But neither woman noticed his unusual attire. Their attention was focused instead on the snub-nosed revolver he held in his hand, aimed squarely at their chests.

30

YOU ARE THE ONE THAT ATTACKED ME IN MY HOTEL room,” Julie blurted, finally recognizing the leather outfit.

“Attack is rather a harsh description,” Bannister replied casually. “I prefer to think that we were just sharing research information.”

“Stealing, you mean,” Summer said.

Bannister shot her a hurt look. “Not at all,” he said. “Strictly borrowing. You’ll find that the diary has found a new home with the rest of Kitchener’s private papers upstairs.”

“Oh, a penitent thief,” Summer replied sarcastically.

Bannister ignored the cut.

“I must say, I am quite impressed with your sleuthing abilities,” he said, eyeing Julie. “The leather diary was a marvelous discovery, though the Earl’s comments were less than startling. But then identifying Sally on top of that. Quite an encore.”

“We weren’t quite as sloppy as you,” Summer remarked.

“Yes, well, I had limited time to peruse Emily Kitchener’s possessions. Be that as it may, a job well done. I searched ten years ago myself without such success.” He raised the pistol and motioned with it.

“Would you ladies be so kind as to move to the rear of this compartment? I’ll be needing to leave with the Manifest.”

“To borrow?” Julie asked.

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” Bannister replied with a sharklike smile.

Julie peered at the scroll before slowly stepping away.