Trove (The Katie Walsh Mysteries)
Page 5
The obscure reference contained the phrase and an odd symbol which she’d translated as “Atlu.” While researching her doctoral work, she’d seen this symbol in two different sources, one in reference to Atlantis and one in reference to Norland. The Norland reference was an old Celtic myth, while the Atlantis connection seemed to be Druidic. And contrary to common belief, she believed that Druids in the British Isles predated the Celts by millennia, and may have eventually been absorbed into Celtic culture, reinforcing her belief that the myth of Norland was related to Atlantis.
Henri had emailed a scanned photo of the object last week. Katie’s heart had skipped several beats when the picture loaded on her laptop. It was the Stone of Grass, she was sure. Henri had located it in a small estate sale in northern England. The recent chain of possession had it in the care of the Cardon family for at least five hundred years. Not much was known by the family regarding its origin or purpose, as there was no detailed documentation in the estate papers. The Cardons had regarded it as a family relic, but since the death of the last Cardon months ago, there was no one left to claim ownership. It was being sold as part of the estate, and the proceeds would be used to pay the dreaded death taxes. She shook her head as she thought about the many artifacts that had scattered to the winds as they were sold off to satisfy the government. Once again money trumped history. The only value existed in the here and now. So sad, she thought, so very sad.
Henri had acquired the dagger with the embedded emerald and would give her first refusal to purchase it. She was ecstatic that she wouldn’t have to wait long to see it, as she had emailed back that she would be in London for a conference this week.
She rode the elevator, literally a glass box attached to the outside of the ultra-modern skyscraper, to Henri’s office. She smiled as she contrasted his work as a finder of obscure objects and his modern, minimalist office. Given a choice, however, she’d opt for an office in one of the old buildings that still made up most of London. It wasn’t so much their age that attracted her as it was the rich history that had been absorbed into the stone walls.
“Bonjour, Katie. It is so wonderful to see you once again.”
She kissed each cheek. “Good to see you too.”
“Do you have time for lunch?”
She shook her head. “I have a five p.m. flight for Boston. And with all the extra security, I have to be there hours early.” She shuddered.
“Are you cold?”
“No. It’s just the thought of getting processed through Heathrow. Tell me something. Is that airport ever not busy?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Not that I’ve ever experienced.”
She sighed. “I’m coming back next week, and if all goes well, I’ll be flying on the Nordstrom jet. I wish I could travel that way all the time.”
He nodded in agreement. “Well, let’s get down to basics. Would you like to see it?” he said, a wicked grin plastered on his face.
“Yes,” she hissed softly. “Not only do I want to see it, I want to hold it, feel its heft in my hand.”
He retrieved a small wooden chest and placed it on the conference table that doubled as his desk. He handed Katie the key to the lock and winked. “Have at it, girl.”
Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she approached it. She took a deep breath and focused on what was about to be revealed to her, what had come down through time to her. She had a feeling this was always meant to find its way to her. She felt the key she held in her hand was symbolic as she believed she was the key to unlocking the mystery of Norland.
She took a deep breath and steadied her hands. She lifted the lock outwards from the chest with her left hand and used her right to insert the key. She paused for a moment, imprinting this scene in her memory, absorbing the heightened sense of anticipation. If only she could bottle that feeling. It was heady, powerful. She turned the key and heard a click as the lock released. She removed the lock and set it on the table. She held her breath, and with both hands, she slowly lifted the lid. She gasped as the overhead lighting cast its light over the green stone. Though unpolished, it seemed to glow in the ambient light.
Katie reached in and lifted the iron dagger out, bringing it close to her face. Though somewhat small, the blade length about five inches, the heft was solid and strong. She turned the blade over, noting faint markings, eroded by time and human touch. She’d have to use the equipment at the Institute, but she felt sure she could determine what the markings were. Separating the hilt where the blade attached to the handle was a cross piece, which gave it a traditional “T” shape. She peered closely and saw markings there on the bottom of the cross piece, though not as eroded as the ones on the blade. She looked up at Henri. “Did you see these?”
“Yes, but I don’t recognize them.”
“Hmmm,” she replied. “Neither do I.” Her hand closed around the hilt, and she reveled in the feel of it. She turned and faced him. “I’ll take it. But you have to hold it here until next week. You can send it to Willowton and I’ll take it back on the Nordstrom jet with me.”
“I knew you’d take it. But why not leave with it today?”
“I’m tempted but I don’t think I’ll be able to take this onboard with my carry-on stuff and I definitely do not want to have it disappear in the underworld of Heathrow.”
He laughed. “I understand your point. You want to avoid the sticky-finger brigade.”
Katie smiled. “Yes. Would you please make sure that all the paperwork and customs documents are completed and delivered with the box?”
“I’ll have it delivered by my personal courier.”
“Great. I’ll let Lord Chester know about its arrival.” She looked at her watch and shrugged. “Time to head for purgatory,” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Thank you, Henri. You have no idea how much this means to me. I’ll be in touch.”
****
The only plus to enduring the harassment of Heathrow was that she would sleep in her own bed tonight. Thankfully the flight was uneventful and without any turbulence either man-made or by force of nature. She arrived home shortly after six p.m. East-coast time. She poured herself a glass of a delicious pinot grigio and got comfortable in her leather armchair, tucking her legs underneath her before powering up her laptop.
She checked her work email and quickly deleted any that didn’t pertain to her. Just as she was about to logoff, a meeting request from Alec MacGowan popped into her inbox. She tensed as she read the subject line: Kickoff meeting for team members of the Celtic Lore Division. She opened the email and noted that the only recipients listed were herself and Laura Benson. The meeting was scheduled for Monday at eight a.m. in their new work area. She reluctantly responded, selecting the “I will attend” option. She wanted to add “but I’m not happy about this,” but stopped herself. It wasn’t his fault that he got her promotion. Someone else selected him over her. But why?
R
Chapter Two
Katie swiped her security badge and entered the lobby with her laptop, as ever at her side. She waved at the receptionist as she breezed across the lobby, her four-inch heels clicking on the tile floor as she hurried to the door on the far side of the open space. She was almost through it when Diane came running up to her.
“Dr. Walsh, didn’t you hear me?” Diane asked as she tried to catch her breath. “I have a message for you. You are to report to Dr. MacGowan as soon as you arrive.”
“Thank you, Diane,” she said as she yanked open the door that led to north wing.
“But, Dr. Walsh, his office is in the other direction.”
“Thank you, Diane. I have a very good idea where his office is. I’ll be there when I’m through,” she said as she continued down the corridor to Dr. Samuel Austin’s office.
The farther she went into the north wing, the quieter it was. She knew it was her sometimes overactive imagination, but she could swear that this part of the Institute literally hummed with power at times. The feeling, whether
perceived or real, always made her a tad uncomfortable as she headed down the corridor to Dr. Austin’s office. He, along with Dr. Marcus Altun, whom she had yet to meet, founded the Nordstrom Institute years ago. She had a sudden urge to kick off her shoes and scrunch her toes in the lush carpet. She was surrounded by understated elegance. And that was saying something as the rest of the Institute was well appointed.
She would have preferred to meet him for brunch yesterday, but he wasn’t available until this morning. Dr. Austin had been her unofficial mentor since she started at the Institute eight years ago. Though he had known her parents and her since she was a child, he’d told her when she interviewed with him that he had this feeling that she’d be a maverick in proving her belief that the myths and legends were based in fact, something he also believed.
While Katie had a special relationship with Dr. Austin, particularly after her parents’ deaths when he assumed the role of surrogate father/grandfather. She made it her dogma never to ask him for personal favors when it came to her career and work at the Institute. Any projects she wanted to work on required a full Request for Proposal, or RFP. Any resources she requested would be considered against other RFPs and awarded on availability and ranking. While she might get her project approved, if someone else’s project had a higher ranking, then she would have to wait until resources where available. Some of her projects received lower rankings but that didn’t stop her, only made her more determined to keep them moving by relying on her out-of-the-box thinking. Her determined focus did little to endear her with her colleagues and earned her the whispered moniker of Ice Princess. She’d heard the talk. The whispers said she was cold, aloof, and relied only on herself. Maybe her “all by myself” attitude was odd, but that’s all she’d known in her life since that accident ten years ago.
A bit apprehensive, Katie stood before the heavy oak door. Why was she here? Oh right, I needed to know why he picked Alec. She needed to know that his selection was aboveboard… and more importantly, why he didn’t pick her, why he didn’t have faith in her.
She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and knocked. She waited a moment and when she heard nothing, she raised her hand to knock harder. As she was about to rap the thick wood, the door opened and she went sailing through, landing on the floor.
She rose, trying to rearrange her clothes with an air of dignity. “I knew I should have taken ballet classes instead of tap dancing.”
A deep, rich laugh rose from the chair behind the desk. “My dear Katie, that last move was certainly an acceptable pirouette. You constantly amaze and amuse me with your ability to regroup so quickly.” He flashed a smile as he rose to meet her as she walked toward his desk.
Confused, Katie spun around to see who had opened the door. She turned back to face him. “How did you open the door… from your—”
“I’ve had a remote control installed. It saves me from getting up when I’m in the middle of something.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know you get that many visitors. Still, I can sympathize with the aggravation of being interrupted at a crucial moment.”
He waved his hand towards the sitting area. “Please sit. I’ve taken the liberty of having fresh coffee and scones sent up.”
“Mm, sounds delish. You know I can’t help myself when it comes to good scones,” she said as she sat on the leather sofa, while he opted for the wingback chair. Katie poured the coffee and set his cup on the table in front of him. She quickly bit into one of the scones. She shook her head, briefly closing her eyes in bliss. “Mm, absolutely wonderful.”
She looked at him sitting in the chair, his silver hair neatly coiffed as always. His clear blue eyes were focused on her. The only thing missing was a pipe.
He smiled. “So shall we get down to brass tacks? Much as I love your visits, they are generally related to something you need to know. What can I help you with this time?”
She swallowed. Did she really only visit with him when she needed something? Was she that self-centered, self-focused? She set the scone back on the plate and brushed her mouth free of any stray crumbs. “I need to know why Alec MacGowan was given the director’s position, my position.”
He arched his eyebrows. “It was never yours, my child. Did you not wonder why you never had anything in writing? Did you not think it odd that it has been almost six months since the division was announced and yet never once was there anything in writing concerning you and the director’s position?”
He was right. It had bothered her that there had been nothing in writing. “But I thought…”
“I agree there was the possibility of it. Your expertise is surpassed by few and definitely no one at the Institute, but you are… how shall I say this delicately… you are lacking in social interactions with your colleagues. While you excel in delivering exciting and new results, you suffer from not dealing with the diverse group of researchers here at the Institute.”
“Because I don’t kiss people’s butts… that’s why I didn’t get the position?” she asked, her voice rising. “After all I’ve done, all I’ve accomplished, you withheld the promotion because I excel in a unique environment.”
“It’s more than that, Katie, much more. You’ve changed since your parents…” He hesitated. “Before their untimely deaths, you used to laugh, smile, enjoy life, but since then you’ve become withdrawn, dare I say distrustful—”
She jumped up and started pacing. “Distrustful? Don’t you think I have a right to? My parents died because some arrogant, hot-shot digger put his selfish quest for fame and fortune ahead of basic safety protocols. His ginormous ego killed them. And what happened to him? He lost his research grant and his fellow academics closed ranks around him, protected him. So yeah, forgive me if I’m distrustful. They saved him and left me to face my loss… alone.”
Dr. Austin steepled his fingers. “I’m not saying you have no right to react that way. I’m saying that it’s affected your personal relationships.”
Katie spun around and faced him, her hands planted on her hips. “How? I don’t have any relationship issues.”
“That’s my point. You don’t have any relationship issues because you don’t have any relationships.”
She felt her breath sucked out of her as sure as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Katie sank into the sofa. His words sliced through her armor, wounding her, scarring her soul in tiny little cuts that hurt a thousand times more than a single gouge. She fought back the tears, the hurt.
“You don’t trust people, Katie. You look for excuses to keep people at a distance.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Your inability to release the anger, the hurt you keep bottled up inside, would lead to your failure in the director’s role. The director needs to work with others, engender cooperation—”
“And I don’t. The Ice Princess freezes people in their tracks.” She shook her head. “They avoid me, all except Lucy Millar, and she just loves to torment me.”
“Is that what you think she’s doing?” He sighed. “Lucy’s a good example. You’ve been here eight years and yet you’ve never attempted to get to know her. In your mind, she’s out to get you. I think you’d be surprised to know that she was the one who brought Dr. MacGowan to my attention.” He raised his in hand in a “stop” motion. “And before you get upset and start vilifying her, I interviewed him myself. I found him quite personable and very knowledgeable.”
Katie rubbed her temple. “I see your point. I have issues. I’m a failure.”
“That’s not what I said, Katie. Don’t harden that armor you shield yourself in. Take it off. And yes, my child, we all have issues. The question is what we do about them. It’s been ten years since the accident. If you don’t come to terms with the damage it’s caused you now, then I’m afraid you never will.”
She wiped the silent tears from her cheeks and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with my new boss.” She turned and walked quickly to the door, exiting before he could say a
nything or before she cried.
****
She walked across the lobby, her heels clicking on the tile floor as she headed to the door on the opposite side. Is it too early for vodka? She grabbed the handle, took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and stepped in. She squinted, expecting to be blinded by intense lights as was the décor in her previous work area, but the lighting here was subdued, pleasing actually. There was an open work area on the left with four plasma monitors, each glowing in standby-mode blue. Each, she estimated, was about fifty inches in size with new rectangular glass-topped conference tables placed beneath them. She looked closer. They weren’t conference tables. They were the equivalent of touch-screen tablets, only gargantuan. At the far end of the room were two open space work areas.
Along the right side were two rooms that appeared to be offices. As she walked along, she saw nameplates outside each door. The one on the left labeled “Alec MacGowan, Ph.D.” and the one on the right “Katie Walsh, Ph.D.” Neither one held any more information.