The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [156]
Deirdre slammed the computer shut, shoved it into her satchel, and stood. It was long past time to get to work.
She was drenched by the time she reached the Charterhouse.
“Good morning, Miss Falling Hawk,” Madeleine said. She paused in her typing, peering at the wall clock. “Wait just a moment—there we go. Good afternoon.”
Deirdre winced. “I sent an e-mail. I said I was working at home.”
“E-mail is for barbarians,” Madeleine said. “Where is your umbrella?”
“I don't have one.”
The receptionist made a clucking sound. No doubt only barbarians failed to purchase umbrellas when in London.
Deirdre headed down to her office, expecting to find Anders pounding away at his computer, but he wasn't there. Most likely he was out at lunch. It was just as well. This way she could have a bit of quiet to get some work done, though she would miss his coffee. She lifted the pot, but it was cold and empty.
Settling for a glass of water, she sat at her desk, opened her computer, and brought up the files concerning the Thomas Atwater case.
Atwater was the journeyman who, in 1619, had broken the Seventh Desideratum by returning to a former place of employment that the Philosophers had forbidden him to enter. However, as far as she could tell, there was no record of any punitive action. In fact, according to the fragmented accounts she had managed to find, Atwater had quickly risen in the Seekers, becoming a master before his untimely death at the age of twenty-nine.
Deirdre hadn't been particularly excited when Nakamura had assigned her this task, but perhaps he was onto something. Had the Philosophers evolved in their application of the Desiderata over the centuries? If so, understanding the various historical precedents might give the Seekers some power to argue interpretation of the Desiderata with the Philosophers, and that could give them more flexibility in their investigations.
However, over the last couple of days, Deirdre had run into something of a brick wall with regard to the research. There was nothing in the old records that indicated why Atwater hadn't been punished for his infraction. She performed several more searches as the clock ticked away the silent minutes, but to no avail.
She was still staring at the screen when Anders stepped into the office. On reflex she slammed the computer shut. He seemed not to notice, and he shot her a broad smile.
“Afternoon, mate. Glad to see you made it in. Is the head better?”
“Yes,” she said, then winced and held a hand to her forehead.
He clucked his tongue and moved to the coffeepot. “Looks like you mean no. We'd better get some caffeine in your system. I imagine the Seekers want your mind in tip-top shape.”
Once again she chided herself for being so suspicious of Anders. He had been nothing but friendly and helpful these last days. She opened her computer, and when he brought her a steaming mug, she accepted it with a genuine smile.
By six o'clock, the effects of the coffee had worn off. Deirdre had followed a few more leads in the Thomas Atwater case, but all of them had been dead ends. As interesting as this case was, she was going to have to move on. The fact was, she would probably never know the full story of Atwater's transgression and why the Philosophers hadn't punished him.
Anders put on his jacket and announced he was off to the pub for a pint with some friends. He invited her along, but she declined. After Anders headed out, Deirdre began packing up her own gear. All she wanted was to spend a quiet evening on the couch in front of the television.
A knock on the door startled her. She looked up and saw Paul Jacoby standing in the open doorway.
“Hello, Deirdre. Do you have a moment?”
“Of course, Paul.” She noticed the folder in his hands. “Do you have something for me?”
“I think so.” He hurried into the room. Jacoby was a small, balding, bespectacled man of around fifty. His graying mustache, crooked bow tie, and worn corduroy coat lent him a comfortable, scholarly look. He fumbled with the folders, pulling out papers and setting