She looked Julian directly in the eyes. “It’s time to go,” she said slowly but emphatically.
It took a moment, but he finally realized—she had a plan.
“Ah yes,” he said. “So sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Tanahill.”
The curator leaned back on his desk. A slight grin crossed his craggy face. He had won the battle.
“Aye,” he said. “Now it’s best ye be on your way. I’ve work to do.”
Colophon stood near the door to his office. “Mr. Tanahill, does the college have any books or pamphlets for sale about the college’s silver collection?”
“Aye,” he replied. “There are pamphlets for sale at the porter’s lodge.”
She turned to Julian. “Do we have time to stop by the porter’s lodge and pick one up?”
“Uh, I guess so,” Julian replied.
“Great!” She headed out of the office.
“Ye know,” Tanahill said to Julian, “if all she wants is a pamphlet, ye could have saved me a lot of time.”
Julian shrugged his shoulders. “Teenagers,” he said. “What are you going to do?”
New Court
Corpus Christi College
Cambridge, England
Monday, June 11
3:30 p.m.
Julian and Colophon stepped out of the building that housed the college’s offices and into New Court. They stood next to the college chapel and directly below the large red-faced clock.
“Okay,” said Julian. “What’s the plan?”
Colophon looked up at the clock. “Three minutes.”
“Three minutes?”
“And I need your phone,” she said. “It has a camera, right?”
“Yes, but why don’t you use your . . .” He paused. Colophon’s backpack was missing. “Where’s your backpack?”
“Phone, please?”
Julian pulled his phone out of his satchel and handed it to Colophon. “It’s brand new,” he said. “Be careful with it.”
She examined his new smartphone. “Nice. This’ll get the job done.”
“What job?”
She looked back up at the clock. “Two and a half minutes.” She pointed across the lawn. “You need to go to the porter’s lodge. Mr. Tanahill will be there soon. Keep him there as long as you can.” She walked over to the entrance to the chapel and stepped into the shadows.
“Go!” she said.
Norris Tanahill poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down at his desk, and thought, A job well done. He took pride in serving not only as the curator of the college’s silver, but as its gatekeeper as well. He had turned away politicians, professors, and on one occasion, a duke of some sort or another. He grinned—a young girl and her keeper were no match for him.
He leaned forward to take a sip of coffee.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
The high, piercing noise filled the room. He spewed coffee all over his desk.
“What the—?”
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
Was it a fire alarm? No, he realized, the emergency lights in his office were not flashing.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
He checked his computer. Nothing.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
He checked his hearing aid. Nope. It was working fine.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
He stood up and walked around his desk in an effort to pinpoint the source of the sound.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
The noise seemed to be coming from the far side of his desk.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
He stared down at the floor in front of his desk.
A backpack.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
The noise was coming from the backpack. He opened it and pulled out the source of the sound—a phone.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
He pushed several buttons on the phone, but the noise would not stop.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
“That infernal girl!” he growled.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
He briefly considered crushing the phone to end the noise.
It would serve the girl right. Wouldn’t be so forgetful next time, would she?
Then he reconsidered. The girl and her chaperone had managed to secure a private tour of the college. Maybe they knew someone important. Maybe they were important. Being rude was one thing (and practically expected in his unique position), but destroying a little girl’s phone was quite another.
Drat it all.
He grabbed the phone and the backpack and headed into the hallway leading to New Court.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
Colophon stood in the deep shadows of the chapel’s entrance, her back pressed hard against the stone wall. She checked to make sure Julian’s phone was in silent mode, then looked at her watch.
Ten seconds . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1.
Thirty seconds later she heard the door to the administrative offices open to her right. A moment later she was looking at the back of Norris Tanahill as he huffed down the walkway in the direction of the porter’s lodge. In his hand was her backpack. She slipped out of the shadows and made her way quickly to the offices’ entrance.
Inside the porter’s lodge Julian was discussing their tour of the college with Ashby Scolfield, as the head porter stood before a large window that overlooked New Court. No more than a couple of minutes after he entered the lodge, Julian looked out the window and saw the doors to the administrative offices burst open and Norris Tanahill emerge. The curator was visibly perturbed and was moving quickly along the courtyard in the direction of the porter’s lodge. A moment or two later Colophon entered the administrative offices.
Colophon walked down the long hallway to Tanahill’s office as quickly and as calmly as she could without drawing undue attention to herself. She had timed how long it took Julian to make his away around New Court and to the porter’s lodge. At best she had three minutes to get in and out before Tanahill was back. Even then, she would be cutting it close.
She knew she had to avoid entanglements with Mr. Tanahill’s fellow employees. It was not normal for a thirteen-year-old girl to stroll through the corridors of the college. The key, she decided, was to act as if she was supposed to be there, her age notwithstanding.
She was faced with this challenge almost immediately. As soon as she entered the hallway, she ran headlong into an older gentleman carrying an armload of books.
“So sorry,” she said. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Yes, well . . . ” the man muttered. “Are you supposed—”
“I hope you’re okay?” she interjected quickly.
“Well, yes—”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said cheerfully. “Best be off—can’t be late, you know.” And with that, she continued down the hallway.
The man paused momentarily, shrugged, then went on about his business. Colophon never looked back. Seconds later she reached the door to Tanahill’s office. She glanced up and down the hallway.
It was empty.
She opened the door and slipped inside.
Norris Tanahill burst into the porter’s lodge and slammed Colophon’s backpack onto the desk between Julian and Ashby Scolfield.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
“Where is the girl?” he demanded. “She needs to stop this infernal noise!”
Julian reached into Colophon’s backpack and removed the phone.
WEEEEEEOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO
He calmly took off the back cover and removed the battery. The alarm stopped immediately.
“No need to panic,” he said. “Problem solved.” He glanced out the window at the door to the administrative offices. Colophon was still inside.
“C’mon, Norris,” said the head
porter, “was all that fuss necessary? It’s just a wee bit o’ noise.”
Tanahill pointed his finger at the head porter. “Don’t ye be starting with me, Ashby Scolfield. I’ll have none of it today.”
Colophon moved quickly to the display case, located in a dark recess in the wall directly behind Tanahill’s desk. The small silver box containing the quill sat in the middle of the case, surrounded by various other objects. The case did not appear to be locked or to have any type of alarm attached to it. Colophon grabbed the front of the display glass and attempted to lift it.
It didn’t budge.
She examined the display case. There was no sign of a lock. She tried once again. And again, it didn’t budge.
She was running out of time.
Julian glanced across the courtyard at the large wooden door leading to the administrative offices. No sign of Colophon.
Tanahill, for his part, was continuing to berate the head porter over the interruption of his afternoon coffee.
Scolfield seemed to be taking it all in stride. “Care for a cup of tea instead?” he asked. “The water’s hot.”
“Tea?” exclaimed Tanahill. “Tea? For thirty years I’ve had a cup o’ coffee every afternoon. And ye darn well know that!”
Julian glanced out again. Still no Colophon. He needed to do something to keep Tanahill here.
“Wow,” said Julian. “Thirty years of coffee. That’s . . . uh . . . quite impressive. Can I buy you a cup? We passed a Caffè Nero on our way from the train station—it’s just down the street. We could pop in and grab a quick cup or two.”
“I prefer to make my own coffee,” replied Tanahill. “And I prefer to drink it alone.”
Still no Colophon.
“I completely understand,” Julian said. “I know I enjoy just sitting and thinking with a nice cup of coffee. Maybe a scone or a muffin of some sort. And a newspaper—a newspaper or magazine. Really refreshes the mind, don’t you agree?”
Tanahill glared at him.
Still no Colophon.
“Do you take your coffee with cream and sugar?” Julian asked. “I like a bit of sweetness in mine—perhaps a nice hazelnut creamer?”
Stupid question, Julian thought.
“Cream and sugar?” said Tanahill. “Hazelnut creamer? Do I look like a wee little bairn to you?”
Julian took another quick glance into the courtyard. Still no Colophon.
“Black, then?” said Julian.
Another stupid question.
“Aye,” replied Tanahill.
“Drip or press?” asked Julian.
Tanahill didn’t answer but said to the head porter, “I’ll be going now before he asks what type of filter I use.” He turned and opened the door.
“Wait!” yelled Julian.
Tanahill looked at Julian. “Aye?”
Julian thought furiously of some question to ask, something that would grab Tanahill’s attention and delay his departure. Unfortunately, all that came out was: “Dark roast or medium?”
The door slammed shut behind him as Tanahill headed to the courtyard.
“He prefers a dark roast, I believe,” said the head porter.
Colophon looked all over the display case but could not locate a lock or latch that would open it. The narrow silver box sat just inches from her face, but it might as well have been a mile away.
Chapter Sixteen
Nervy
Nervy—Showing or requiring
courage and fortitude; bold.
CNN Center, Infirmary
Atlanta, Georgia
Monday, June 11
10:47 a.m.
Mull sat in a chair in the infirmary and stared at the ceiling. Barely an hour ago he had felt as if he was going to die. Now, aside from feeling tired, he was fine. The doctor suggested that it might have been a mild case of food poisoning exacerbated by the heat of the studio lights and the stress of being on national television. Mull wasn’t convinced. He had suffered through bouts of food poisoning on more than one occasion. It usually took a full twenty-four hours, at a minimum, to recover. But here he sat, perfectly fine. No, it wasn’t a case of food poisoning.
Still, he thought, a diagnosis of food poisoning could work to his advantage. Perhaps the network might give him another interview. And who knows, the whole episode might even generate a little sympathy.
Mull took his phone out of his coat pocket. He had placed it on silent prior to going into the studio. Now he had several missed calls and two texts. One of the messages was from Uncle Portis. It had arrived fifteen minutes ago. It read: “We have to speak IMMEDIATELY.” The second message was also from Uncle Portis. It read simply: “I did all I could.”
New Court, Corpus Christi College
Cambridge, England
Monday, June 11
3:50 p.m.
Julian stood inside the porter’s lodge and watched helplessly as Tanahill made his way around the courtyard and through the large wooden door leading into the administrative offices. He had briefly considered tackling him but decided that a trip to jail would not serve anyone’s interests. So he stared out the window and hoped that Colophon knew what she was doing.
Colophon had no idea what she was doing.
There was no lock.
No latch.
Nothing.
The display case would not open.
And her time was almost up.
Norris Tanahill stomped toward his office. His footsteps reverberated through the hallway.
Coffee’s probably cold by now, he fumed.
The sound of footsteps caught Colophon off guard. They were moving fast and in the direction of the office in which she now sat crouched behind Norris Tanahill’s desk.
The footsteps stopped just outside the door.
Colophon looked over the desk and could see the door handle turning.
She had nowhere to go.
Tanahill stepped into his office, closed the door behind him, and sat down at his desk. He took a deep breath. His wife had told him that he was too old to get so worked up over every little thing. Calm down, she told him constantly. You’ll have a heart attack.
He grunted. Perhaps she was right.
He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
Colophon crouched as far under the display case as she could get. If Tanahill had bothered to look down before sitting at his desk, he almost certainly would have seen the tips of her shoes. As it was, she was trapped. The curator sat between her and the only way out of the office. All she could do was sit and listen as the old grump breathed in and out.
As Colophon’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she took a closer look at her cramped surroundings. There were a couple of paper clips, lots of dust, and a pen cap lying about under the display case. The wall behind her appeared to be solid stone, as was the floor. The back of Tanahill’s large leather chair, directly in front of her, was almost touching the front of the display case. She looked up at the bottom of the case above her head. It appeared to be a solid piece of wood with bracing. Then she noticed something.
She paused.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
There, under the front-left corner of the display case, was a small black button set in a brass casement. She knew instantly what it was. She wanted to kick herself.
Julian stood outside the porter’s lodge and stared across the courtyard. Still no sign of Colophon. The clock tower on the chapel showed that it was now 3:55 p.m. He decided that if she didn’t come out the door in the next five minutes, he would go in after her.
Colophon considered her options, none of which was particularly appealing. Tanahill seemed to have made himself quite comfortable and did not appear to be in any hurry to move. Her legs were starting to cramp, and it was incredibly hot under the display case. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold out in this position.
She listened closely as Tanahill breathed in and out.
She wished he’d been th
is relaxed when they’d met earlier.
The periods between breaths grew longer and longer—the breaths deeper and deeper.
And then suddenly he was snoring.
Julian made his way around the courtyard and stood in front of the chapel. He looked up at the clock. It was now 3:57 p.m. Three minutes to go.
Colophon listened intently.
The snoring was steady. Tanahill was out cold.
She inched her way forward until she was directly behind Tanahill’s chair. She stopped and listened again. The snoring continued.
She moved her legs under and then behind her. There was about a two-foot gap between the base of Tanahill’s chair and the side of the display case. She took a deep breath and then slowly slid herself forward until she was completely out from under the case. Tanahill didn’t move.
Colophon stood up.
She knew that she should leave immediately. She could walk out the door right now, and Tanahill would never know that she had been in his office.
She knew that every second she stayed in the room increased her odds of getting caught.
She knew it would be almost impossible to open the display case without being detected.
But she knew she had to try.
Colophon edged as close to the case as she could. Stretching out with her right hand, she reached under the corner and found the button.
She paused. Tanahill snored deeply less than a foot from where she stood.
She pushed the button.
Tower of the Five Orders Page 7
