The Inner Circle - Brad Meltzer [73]
Laurent tried to smile, but it felt like his whole body was flattening. Like the inside of his chest was now touching the inside of his back. He wasn’t a spy. He wasn’t made for this. In fact, the only reason he agreed to do it was… Dr. Palmiotti thought it was because the President of the United States asked personally. But it wasn’t about the office.
It was about the man. A man Laurent knew since Wallace was a boy. A man who asked Laurent to move to Washington, and to whom Laurent made a promise. And while some people don’t put high priority on such things in Washington, D.C.… back in Ohio, and in so many other places… there’s something to be said about keeping your word.
“Here you go, Mr. Gyrich,” the guard with the overgrown eyebrows announced, handing back the ID and waving the barber toward the X-ray machine.
As the conveyor belt began to whirl, Laurent filled a plastic bin with his keys, his cell phone, and of course the book he was carrying: A Problem from Hell.
It rolled through the machine without a hitch, and within seconds the barber was on his way. “Thanks again,” he called to the guard.
“Anytime,” the guard replied. “Welcome to the Archives. And happy hunting to you.”
* * *
43
February 16th,” Clementine reads from the page. “Should we know that date?”
I shake my head at her. Not here.
“That’s the date they found King Tut,” the Diamond jumps in.
“Pardon?” I ask.
“How do you even know that?” Tot challenges.
“I looked it up. Before you got here,” the Diamond explains, pointing down at the now revealed message on the front page of the dictionary:
Exitus
FEBRUARY 16
Acta
26 YEARS IS A LONG TIME TO KEEP A SECRET
Probat
WRITE BACK: NC 38.548.19 OR WU 773.427
“I couldn’t find anything noteworthy on the twenty-six years ago part, but looking at just February 16th—that’s the date the silver dollar became U.S. legal tender, and Howard Carter found Pharaoh Tutankhamen. Otherwise, it’s pretty much a quiet day in history.” Reading our reactions—and our silence—the Diamond adds, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not prying. Not at all,” Tot says, forcing a dash of thankfulness into his voice. “We just found this book mixed in with some old files from the early sixties, and we figured if someone scribbled in there, it might be fun to see what they were writing about.”
The Diamond stares directly at Tot, unafraid of his blind eye.
“Do you have any idea how invisible ink works?” the Diamond asks.
“You just told us how it works,” Tot shoots back.
“I did. I gave you a crash course. But if I gave you the full course, I’d also tell you that if the invisible ink sits for too long—if a few decades go by and we apply the reagent chemicals—that writing reappears in a color that’s pale brown. Like a chestnut. Your writing here is pale green,” he says, pointing down to the dictionary. “That’s fresh ink—and by the brightness of the color, I’m wagering something that’s been written in the last week or so.”
Still pale as can be, Clementine looks at me. I look at Tot.
“Daniel, listen…” Tot begins.
“Nope. Not listening. Not butting in. I already told Beecher: I don’t want your problems, and I don’t want to be mixed up in whatever you’re mixed up in. He needs my help, I’ll give it to him. But don’t treat me like an idiot, Tot. It makes you look pompous. And besides, it’s insulting.”
“I apologize,” Tot says.
“Apology accepted,” the Diamond replies as he hands me back the dictionary. “Though by the way, I can tell you right now: No way this book ever belonged to George Washington.”
“But the motto…”
“Exitus acta probat never appeared as just three words on a page. Never. Not once in his collection. Trust me, I’ve verified over thirty books for Mount Vernon. Whenever Washington used the motto, it appeared with the full coat of arms, including the eagle, and the stripes, and the three stars. And even if that weren’t the case, I also found this…”
He flips to the inside back cover of the dictionary. In the bottom right corner, the characters “2--” are written in