She’d eventually decided she wouldn’t report Anya’s mother missing yet. If these organizations had enough of a grip on the police force to get both Lillian and her friend killed, then their reach was very deep. Triggering an investigation into her whereabouts would almost certainly put Rose Brown in more danger.
Sid said, “Anya’s gone. She left a note.” He handed it to Clio. He looked cut up.
She read it: “‘Wait at the hotel. I’ll be back later. Don’t worry.’” She glanced at Sid and his gaze slid away. The man was a bad liar. “Where did you find it?” she asked.
He hesitated. Another tell. “Downstairs.”
“At the desk?”
He nodded.
“I thought it wasn’t manned until seven.”
He shrugged.
Clio’s phone pinged with a new message from Izzy. Clearly, she never slept.
Just took another look at that CCTV grab. Isn’t the younger woman Tim Keenan’s new wife?
Clio was shocked all over again. How deep did the influence of these women reach? She messaged back:Is it?? I’ve never met her.
Tim kept his private life private around her, but she’d heard onthe grapevine that he’d married someone much younger, and once overheard him complaining about starting another family at his age. It was his second round, and it had deepened the bags under his eyes. Serves him right, she thought now. Probably the mother of his first children thought the same.
I’m sure I’ve seen her in a photo Axford showed me on his phone,Izzy wrote.They all socialize together.
Can you try to confirm and let me know?
Yeah. Are you still sick?
Clio hated lying. She stared at the phone, then typed,I owe you one.
Sid was in the bathroom. Clio sat on the side of the bed, testing out an idea, a way to bring Tim and Tony down, a way to keep herself safe. It was a good idea, the kind that shoots a bolt of energy through you. Lillian would approve. Lillian had been ten steps ahead of her all the way, and she probably still was.
When Sid came out of the bathroom, Clio said, “You need to tell me where Anya’s gone. I know you know.”
Anya
I held my breath, waiting to hear someone entering the hypogeum behind me but there was only the sound of gurgling water. Perhaps fear was playing tricks with my imagination.
I looked up. The inside of the half-domed ceiling was decorated with rows of multiple short tubes, stacked vertically, each painted a different color, cream, yellow, blue, and red. It was weirdly modern, deeply strange, and as I’d thought when I’d found the images of the ceiling online, by far the closest thing I’d ever seen to the strange pipes illustrated in the Voynich. I was transfixed.
In the opposite chamber, the ceiling was painted blue and covered in stars, another strong Voynich echo. Painted scenes from the Old and New Testaments covered the walls, bold and frightening. Their crude style told me they were very old. I felt awed, as if I’d walked into an Egyptian tomb or a cave of prehistoric paintings. When I returned to the first chamber to stand beneath the strange tubular forms again, I felt as if I’d walked into a page of the Voynich.
But I saw nothing to tell me whereThe Book of Wondermight be, or even hint at it. I searched all three spaces carefully, sending torchlight into every corner, closely examining every painting, desperate for a clue—a sign, a symbol, anything—to tell me what next. Since I’d come this far, I felt like the solution should be staring me in the face, but the art was so simple, the spaces so empty otherwise, and I couldn’t find any reference to a hidden book or to the Nogarolas or anything else relevant. I felt hopeless.
The sound of the water must have masked the footsteps. By the time I heard them again, they were close. Someone was coming and I only had moments to decide what to do. I switched off my flashlight and the space turned black.
There was no other way out apart from a tunnel that had been chained off. It wasn’t open to the public. I knew from the plans I’d seen that it led deeper underground, to the spring, almost certainly to a dead end, but I thought I could hide there at least. It was my only chance.
As quietly as I could, I felt along the walls until I found the tunnel’s opening and ducked beneath the chain to enter. I felt my way along it, my palms on the rough walls to guide me. It was narrow and the floor was uneven and jagged in places. As the tunnel descended, the water level rose and soaked through my shoes. Within minutes, I was wading through a couple of inches of freezing, fast flowing spring water and I was afraid of how deep it might get.
When I glanced behind me I could see light raking the tunnel walls. A man’s voice called my name, and it echoed menacingly.My heart raced harder. I pushed on even as the water rose to my knees, moving ever slower and struggling to keep my balance until I couldn’t any longer. I tripped and cried out as I fell, smashing my shoulder against the rock wall.
Another shout came from behind me, sharper and more urgent than before. Light fell on me momentarily. My fingers grasped for purchase on the slippery rock wall; I pulled myself up and pushed forward harder until I reached a bend in the tunnel where the flooring seemed to drop off a shelf and had no choice but to carry on. I stepped into icy water that came up to waist level, making me gasp, and within moments I was shivering. I didn’t know if I could go much farther. I cinched my backpack straps as tightly as possible to raise it up my back. The bestiary and glossary were in there. I couldn’t let them get wet.
Behind me I heard splashing. Someone was getting closer.
Hands trembling, I managed to dry them enough to turn on my phone light.
