“Be safe.”
The footpath behind the shop was narrow, bordered by tall brick walls. At the end, I watched the street for a while before stepping out. There were no black sedan cars in sight, just taxis, a bus, regular cars.
The tube station wasn’t far, as she’d said, but I’d have to cross the street to reach it. I had to work up the courage to go for it. I took a deep breath, stepped out, and walked up along the street as fast as I could. I was hoping to dart across, but traffic was too dense and fast moving. I would have to use the crossing. I jabbed at the pedestrian button and waited impatiently for the vehicles to stop.
Before the light turned green, a man in dark glasses linked his arm through mine and pulled me against him.
“Hello, Anya,” he said. “Stay calm. Let’s go this way.”
I tried to yank my arm away, but he was too strong. He kept a smile on his face. To someone watching, we probably looked like a playful couple.
He put his mouth to my ear, as if we were lovers. I froze. He said, “Don’t fight me. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
Diana
Diana stood in the ladies’ restroom off the lobby of a glistening tower less than half a mile from the building called the Gherkin in the City of London. The room was fancy, tricked out in marble, lit like a dressing room, folded hand towels beside the basins. The stalls were empty; she was alone, apart from the multiple reflections of herself in all the mirrors.
She washed her hands slowly. She had five minutes before she was due upstairs, enough time to compose herself. Charlotte mustn’t see any worry in her face, no hint at all that Anya was AWOL and the body of an Asian woman had been found in the Thames.
As to that, Diana had a contact in the police who might be able to tell her more, but she was loath to get in touch yet. Better to wait a little. She’d had scares like this before that had turned out to be nothing. She looked at her reflection, searching for signs of stress on her face. Sometimes she wished it showed more. People assumed she was infinitely capable, but everybody had a breaking point.
I could do it all, she thought, if other people didn’t make changes, like compressing the timeline for Anya Brown to deliver. This morning was proof that that wasn’t working, that they’d moved too fast bringing Anya Brown here, and Diana had been right to call it. The question was, would anyone listen to her now, even after she’d been proved right?
It was so important that they got this right. They were gambling with the highest of stakes. Lives had been lost and deep down, this troubled Diana, even though she understood the deathshad been necessary. You couldn’t play with fire unless you accepted you might be burned, and that went for both the Kats and the Larks.
However, the ultimate gamble was whether the objects they were seeking would lead them toThe Book of Wonder. If they didn’t, all this effort would have been spent and lives would have been lost for nothing, and that, she knew, would keep her up at night for the rest of her life.
But she mustn’t let doubt get in her way. She was as confident as she could be that they were on the right track. They’d based their decision on information passed from woman to woman in whispers over centuries. Some dismissed them as nonsense, but Diana was convinced they had truth in them.
The whispers suggested that clues to the location ofThe Book of Wonderwere encoded somewhere or somehow in Magnus Beaufort’s collection and within the embroidery, too. Diana just had to bring the relevant objects together and have the means to interpret them.
“I insist that we keep the embroidery from Anya until we’re sure she’s loyal to us. We don’t want her seeing it, then putting two and two together once she has access to his collection. She could go rogue,” Charlotte had said.
Diana believed there was sense in that approach—Anya was a very bright girl—but she wondered if Charlotte might revise it now that timing was a more urgent issue. The Fellowship of the Larks weren’t the only ones looking forThe Book of Wonder. The Order of St. Katherine were, too. It was a race. But Diana believed the Larks had the upper hand now. The Kats didn’t have Anya, and, more important, they didn’t know that the Beaufort collection had survived. Yet. Diana didn’t underestimate their ability to find out.
She really needed to talk to Charlotte about the necessity of not rushing this.
She closed her eyes, placed the palms of her hands on her belly, and inhaled slowly and deeply, then exhaled. When she opened her eyesagain, she saw reflections of herself everywhere—the room was a hall of mirrors—but she looked calm and composed, her shoulders back, her head high, and she took some strength from that. She would go to this meeting and press palms with Charlotte’s City contact. Then she would locate Anya and talk to her again. Hopefully, she’d have had a chance to cool down by then. She hadn’t fled out of town; the tracker on her phone told Diana that Anya was still in Central London.
She was a bright girl. She would come to see that there was only one sensible choice she could make. Certainly, it was worth giving her time and space to allow her to think the decision had been hers to make. And if she didn’t make the right choice, well, Diana didn’t love threatening people, but if it came to it, she would.
She wasn’t worried about Magnus. He’d be fine if he got what he wanted in the end. His self-absorption was truly a gift, on occasion.
The express elevator took her up to the forty-fourth floor in seconds. It was on the outside of the building and its glass walls offered majestic views of London’s most iconic sights. The day was clear, and in the far distance, Diana saw planes circling Heathrow Airport. The River Thames cut its serpentine path through the City like a mythological beast. Perspective was always useful. You had to think big and be bold to achieve anything meaningful. Women wouldn’t have better lives unless they were brave.
The elevator stopped and its doors slid open. Diana stepped out, looking perfectly composed. She approached a curved reception desk.
“I’m here to see Bridget Farley,” she told the polished receptionist.
The meeting room was finer than Diana had imagined. Carpet thick enough to threaten the stability of her heels, a view just as good as the one from the elevator. They were directly above the Tower of London. Charlotte Craven was already in the room. Bridget Farley was, too. She sat at the head of a large conference table, polished to a gleam.
Bridget wore a dark pantsuit and cream blouse, heavily accessorized by chunky gold jewelry. She had glossy red curls, emeralds in her ears, and a vintage Rolex on her wrist. Diana had a lot ofadmiration for Bridget. She’d smashed through the glass ceiling, making her a powerful ally for the Larks, but she was tricky to handle. Bridget wasn’t known to be a good team player. Bridget believed that Bridget was always right.
Diana shook hands with her. Bridget’s grip was assertive, as usual. They sat.
“I have good news and bad,” Bridget said. “The good news is that we are fully supportive of your venture and can help you arrange funding. The bad news is that we can raise only half of what you’ll need, and we’ve been unable to secure any other backers. It’s disappointing. To secure the site, you’ll need to find an extra twenty million pounds. I hate to admit it, but I’ve run out of rope to get that for you, and believe me, I’ve tried every contact I know.”
Charlotte and Diana exchanged a glance. Charlotte nodded.
