Assumptions (9 page)

“My dad travels all the time and I never get
to go.”

Will wiped his hands on his pants. “We should
get started with your paper."

"Right. Paper.” Jordyn pulled a thin laptop
from her backpack and booted it up.

Will watched the machine come to life. A
photo of Jordyn and her father standing on a beach filled the
screen. “Nice wallpaper. Are you wearing a wetsuit?”

“That’s how I spend my summers. My dad tried
to teach me to surf. I sucked, but I totally miss it.”

“Totally, dude.”

“Emerson, are you mocking me?”

“Yes, Quig. I am." He smirked as best he
could without re-opening the gash on his lip. "It's dark in here. I
should turn on some lights.” Will pulled the chain on the lamp.
“Now we can . . .” he paused, staring at Jordyn. “Your eyes.”

“Oh, no!” Jordyn's hands flew up to cover her
face. “My lenses were bothering me. I didn’t put them back in.”

“Wow, your eyes are really not brown.”

Jordyn lowered her hands. “I know,” she
said.

“They’re . . .”

“Jade green.”

“And?”

“Always a gamer around until you need one."
She sighed. "Serendipity green. My dad gave her my eyes.”

“Oh." Will pulled a wood TV tray from behind
the study door. He opened it in front of Jordyn. "For your
computer."

Jordyn set her laptop on the small table.
"Thanks."

"I think they're much better on you,” said
Will.

"Thanks, Emerson." Jordyn stretched and
pulled Will's book off the chair. "Sit." She looked at the cover of
the book, cocked her head, then looked at Will. "
Ancient Cult
Objects
. Interesting." She leafed through. A manila folder fell
to the floor. "What’s that?”

“Nothing." Will grabbed the file, folded it
in his arms, and sat. "Just something I was working on.”

“Do you always work on things marked
confidential?”

“Well, it’s not really mine. It’s my
father’s. He investigates missing artifacts for insurance
companies. He specializes in cult objects.”

“Cult? You're starting to creep me out a
little, Emerson."

“Um, sorry, 'cult' is archaeologist for
religious stuff like icons, fertility figurines, grave goods,
really anything to do with belief systems.”

“So, what’s so 'cult' about this one?” asked
Jordyn.

“Maybe nothing. It’s just a book. The clasp
has a sapphire. That’s probably why the insurance company wants to
find it," said Will.

“But, you don’t think that’s it.”

“Did I say that?”

“You still have the file."

“Yeah. I guess I do." Will pulled out the
photo of the book and handed it to Jordyn. "The book was in a
museum in a small town. There was a storm. It ripped up the main
street and took out some houses. It was pretty bad. Anyway, the
collection was being appraised at the time and the only thing
missing . . .”

“. . . was the book,” Jordyn finished his
sentence.

"Yeah."

"And that bothers you."

"That, and someone assigned it to my father
for a reason."

"So, what do you think it is?”

“If it is what I think, then we shouldn’t be
messing with it." Will looked at the front of the file. "I should
put it away. There really isn’t anything to do. My father’s note
says the case is closed. ‘Act of God’, see?" He pointed to the note
on the front of the file. "Anyway, I’m not even supposed to have
it.”

Jordyn sat forward on the edge of her chair.
She studied the photo under the lamplight. "Look at this. Is this
writing?" She pointed to the stick-like figures etched into the
metal ring around the stone.

"Probably." Will took the photo from Jordyn
and tucked it back into the file.

“Don’t you want to find out if you’re
right?”

"It’s not mine,” said Will.

"You can’t just leave it at that. It would
kill me not to know.”

“I can see that.” Will thought for a moment.
“There is one person who may be able to help."

“I'm game. When do we go?"

"It'll have to wait. We're off next week for
Veteran's Day. We can go then, in the morning. It's not far from
school."

"Meet me at my house. We’ll go together."

Will nodded. "We should get back to your
paper. Can I have my book?" Jordyn handed it to him. He tucked the
file back into its pages, closed it, and laid it on the floor next
to his chair.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE KEY

Will sat on the el headed south. The
Veteran’s Day holiday left the train mostly empty, even during the
morning rush. He pulled Iain Pritchard’s book out of his backpack
and opened it on the vacant seat next to him, the file still in
place.

He skimmed chapter twelve until he came to
the paragraph he sought. He vaguely mouthed the words as he read,
"Even today, people continue to rely on the spiritual. For
instance, reprints of the
Sefer Raziel HaMalach
, also known
as
The Book of Raziel
, are kept in many homes as a talisman
against fire. The modern book is said to have been transcribed from
the ancient text which was, as legend tells us, written on a
sapphire."

The train began to slow. "Next stop,
Fullerton. Fullerton is next."

Will closed the book and jammed it back into
his backpack. The doors opened. He jogged down the stairs and
exited the station. He stood on the sidewalk below the tracks and
dug Jordyn's directions out of his pocket.

Fullerton to Halsted and Lincoln. Slight
right on Lincoln. Right on Orchard (across from the children's
hospital). Middle of the block, right side of the street.

He began to walk. The November wind bit at
his cheeks. He shoved his bare hands deep into his coat pockets and
picked up his pace.

Will stopped in front of an ornate limestone
rowhome, middle of the block, right side of the street. He climbed
the broad stairs and rang the bell.

Jordyn opened the door, already in her coat.
"You look a little cold. Want to come in for a minute?" Will
nodded, rubbing his hands together.

Jordyn led him up a flight of dark-stained
wood stairs and down a hall past the dining room where an oversized
iron chandelier hung over a long table. A rustic fireplace
dominated the wall opposite the room's doorway. Freshly chopped
wood lay neatly stacked on the clean stone hearth. They kept
walking.

Jordyn showed Will to the kitchen. The room
filled the back half of the house, cabinets ornate and appliances
large.

"Can I get you some cocoa or something?”

"Sure. Thanks." Will laid his backpack on the
polished granite counter with care and eased onto a barstool.

Jordyn prepared a cup and handed it to Will.
He wrapped both hands around it, allowing them to warm before
taking a sip of smooth chocolate.

"So, who is this person we're meeting?"

"Iain Pritchard. And I wouldn't say we're
meeting. More like popping in."

"Pritchard? The guy who wrote your book?"

"Yeah. He used to teach at DePaul. He lives
in Lakeview."

"You know him?"

"Sort of.” Will changed the subject. “I
brought the book. There's not much information, though."

"You think Pritchard can tell us more?"

"If anyone can, it would be him." Will
chugged the rest of his cocoa. "We better get going."

Jordyn and Will took the el to Belmont. They
walked a few blocks west under leafless parkway trees. They passed
Eastview and walked another block before heading north on a quiet
street lined with old bungalows and apartment buildings of all
shapes. They stopped at a brick courtyard building. The bare
branches of overgrown shrubs crowded the edge of the concrete
walkways.

Will double-checked the address. "It'll be in
front." He walked to the first entry door on the right and pressed
the intercom button labeled '2D'. A sharp voice with an English
accent crackled through the box, "Yes?"

"Sir, my name is Will. I'm a student at
Eastview."

"I don't take visitors." The line
disconnected.

Will rang again.

“I told you I don't see anyone," came the
response.

"Sir, if I could have a minute."

"Please, go away!" The line clicked twice
then went dead.

Jordyn stepped up to the intercom. "How
rude.” She laid on the buzzer.

"What do you want?"

Jordyn used her best ‘dinner with Dad’s
colleagues’ tone, respectful and polite. "Sir, we need to ask your
opinion. It will only take a minute."

"I said ‘no’. Just go away!" The sound of a
dial tone rang out of the brass box before it went silent
again.

Jordyn searched the ground around the shrubs
lining the foundation of the building, collecting anything that
might hit a second story window without breaking it.

Will watched her scour the courtyard. "I'm
not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not? He can't hang up on us through the
window. We need his help. A minute or two. That’s not too much to
ask." With a fist full of stones and twigs, Jordyn positioned
herself toward the front of the building. She took aim with a small
pebble. It bounced off the glass with a weak ping. She sorted
through the bits. "Here's a good one.” She held it up for Will to
see. “Besides, no one hangs up on me like that." She lobbed a hunk
of mulch, hitting her target with a dull thud. Pritchard did not
come to the window. Jordyn chucked another pebble. No response.
Curious neighbors peeked through their mini-blinds.

Jordyn paused, carefully selecting her
ammunition. The rock landed with a loud chink. The window flew
open.

"What do you want?" hissed Pritchard.

Before he could send them away, Jordyn
shouted, "Dr. Pritchard, we know who you are and we need your
help."

Will stepped forward and held up his book.
"It’ll only take a minute."

“Fine. A minute." Prichard relented and
buzzed them in.

Jordyn and Will climbed the stairs to 2D.
Pritchard opened the apartment door. He wore an immaculate navy
suit with a maroon tie. A black umbrella stood in a bronze stand
just inside the door. Jordyn glared at Will.

Pritchard motioned them in and closed the
door behind them.

He was a young man, maybe thirty, but the
weariness in his posture, in his every motion, betrayed disgrace
and, when viewed from a school window, made him seem much
older.

Pritchard looked them over. "What did you say
your names were?"

Will spoke first. "Jordyn Quig and William
Emerson, Jr."

"Emerson? Safa and William? I knew them."

"Yes, sir. My parents. We had tea at the
Albright once. I was younger then."

Pritchard's face dropped. "So was I. A
lifetime ago, it seems." He offered Will and Jordyn a seat on a
tidy sofa in the sitting room just off the entryway. On the coffee
table, a small crystal bowl held foil-wrapped toffees piled so
neatly they formed a perfect four-sided pyramid.

Prichard sat in a wing chair. He leaned
forward, elbows on his knees, resting his chin lightly on his
folded hands. "You have my attention."

Jordyn looked at Will. "Show him. Show him
the file."

Will retrieved the file and handed it over.
Pritchard leafed through the articles and the updated appraisal. He
pulled out the photo of the small book, examined it for a moment,
then slipped it back into the file and handed it back to Will.
"What do you think it is?" Pritchard asked.

"I'm not sure,” answered Will.

"Then why come to me?"

Will looked at Jordyn. She nodded. "I think
it might be something in your area of expertise . . . something
sacred."

Pritchard leaned back in his seat.

Will continued, “You mention a book in
chapter twelve, but only in one paragraph. I was hoping you might
be able to tell us more about
The Book of Raziel
."

"Hmm." Pritchard popped out of his seat.
"Come." He slid open a heavy pair of pocket doors, closed them, and
slid them open again. He walked into the room.

Will and Jordyn followed him to the doorway
of a small library. Stacks of books, some waist-high, others to the
shoulder, covered the floor and the desk and chairs, leaving the
shelf-lined walls behind them barely visible. Jordyn muttered under
her breath, "More books."

At first glance, the books appeared to be
randomly arranged, but on closer inspection, the stacks were
alphabetized starting with 'A' nearest the right door jamb and
concluding with 'Z' at the left. At ‘M’, on a shelf of its own, a
small Marshalltown trowel stood on end, embedded in the wood tip
down.

Stopping in the center of the room, Pritchard
turned a slow circle, tapping his index finger on his chin in the
kind of thoughtful gesture expected of a man of his intellect. Will
and Jordyn exchanged a puzzled glance.

Pritchard skipped toward the tallest stack in
the room. Jordyn watched him run his fingertips along the spines of
the books, moving swiftly from one stack to the next. His hands
were slender and neatly kept, but not delicate. Every knuckle was
scarred. On his right hand he wore two rings, both silver, heavy,
and without stones, their carved patterns softened by wear.

Pritchard passed nearly all of the books.
Pausing somewhere near 'S', he closed his eyes. Jordyn looked at
Will; he shrugged.

Pritchard put his hand to his forehead,
turned sharply, and walked directly to the books nearest the
doorway. He removed half a dozen and pulled a thin, navy blue book
from what was now the top of the stack. Several pages had been
marked by different colored scraps of paper, each one filled to the
edge with tiny handwritten notes. Pritchard cradled it gently. He
ran his index finger down the gold lettering on the spine as if
reading by touch. Turning the book face up, he opened it to a page
near the middle, marked with goldenrod.