Book of Souls

Isabelle began to cry, softly at first, then in a crescendo, louder and louder until she was sobbing, sucking at air and getting red-faced. Will looked at her with sorrow but he was thinking about his son. Phillip would be seventeen in 2027, young and full of promise. He was a hairbreadth from crying himself, but he got up and rested his hands on her heaving shoulders.

“We don’t know if it’s true,” he said.

“What if it is?”

“I guess we’re going to have to wait and see.”

She stood up, an invitation to hug her. They held the clench for the longest time until he told her simply and baldly that it was time for him to leave.

“Must you?”

“If I get back to London tonight, I can catch a morning flight.”

“Please stay one more night.”

“I’ve got to go home,” he said simply. “I miss my guys.”

She sniffed her nose dry and nodded.

“I’m going to come back,” he promised. “When Spence is done with these letters, I’m sure he’ll give them back to the Cantwell family. They’re yours. Maybe one day you’ll be able to use them to write the greatest book in history.”

“As opposed to the middling thesis I’ll write otherwise?” Then she looked him in the eyes, “You’ll leave the poem?”

“A deal’s a deal. Go fix your roof.”

“I’ll never forget the past few days, Will.”

“I won’t either.”

“You have a lucky wife.”

He shook his head guiltily. “I’m a lot luckier than she is.”

She called for a taxi. He went up to his room to pack. When he was done, he texted two messages.

To Spence:

Missionaccomplished. All 4 found. Bringing them back tomorrow. Prepare to be amazed.

To Nancy:

U’r brilliant. U nailed the prophet. Amazing stuff. Home tomorrow. Can’t believe how much I miss U. Won’t leave U again.

That night, Cantwell Hall was quiet again, down to two residents, an old man asleep and his granddaughter, tossing and turning in her bed. Before she turned in, Isabelle had stopped in the guest room and sat on the bed. It still had Will’s scent on it. She breathed it in and started to cry again until she heard herself saying, “Don’t be stupid.” She obeyed herself, dried her eyes and turned off the light.

DeCorso was watching from the bushes. The guest bedroom went dark, then Isabelle’s bedroom lit up. He checked his luminescent dial. He hunkered down and typed Frazier an e-mail on his encrypted BlackBerry, its keyboard glowing in the night, his hard thumbs mashing the keys:

Finishing up at Wroxall. Have received Piper’s hotel and flight details from Ops Center. He used his credit card! Still has no idea we’re on him. Plan to intercept before he gets to Heathrow. Still awaiting your instructions re Cantwells.

Frazier read the e-mail and wearily massaged his own scalp. It was midafternoon in the desert, but, underground, time of day was an abstraction. He’d been at his desk nonstop for two days and didn’t want to spend a third there. The operation was coming to a head, but there were final decisions to be rendered, and his boss had made it clear that in light of the unsavory options, they were going to be Frazier’s calls, not his.

“These things are in your job description, not mine,” Lester had growled over the line, and Frazier had wanted to reply, “So your hands stay clean and your nights are restful.”

Frazier’s decision on Piper was the easiest one.

DeCorso would intercept him at his Heathrow hotel, immobilize him by any means necessary, and retrieve all the items he’d found at Cantwell Hall. A CIA extraction team would do a pickup at the hotel and transport them up to the US airbase at RAF Mildenhall, where Secretary Lester had a navy transport plane standing by. Piper was BTH, so there was no chance of DeCorso killing the bastard, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t seriously damage the goods. So be it, Frazier thought. As long as we get our hands on any material that could compromise the integrity of the mission at Area 51.

Then they’d round up Spence and any of his confederates and add the missing volume to the vault. He imagined there’d be some kind of on-site ceremony, but that was the kind of nonsense the base rear admiral could decide.