The Inner Circle

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 light pencil. I didn’t even notice it before.

“Is that another code?” Tot asks.

“The most important code of all,” I say, remembering my time in Mr. Farris’s store. “In used bookstores, that’s the price.”

“… or in some cases, what the bookseller paid for it,” the Diamond adds, “so they know what to sell it for.”

Tot rolls this one around in his head. “So rather than some rare George Washington edition, you think this book is worth about two bucks?”

“It’s worth whatever someone will pay for it,” the Diamond says. “But if I had to guess, sure, I’m betting this is a later edition that some counterfeiter doctored up to sell in some scam during the 1800s when Washington died. We see ’em all the time. Saw another one a few weeks back at a used bookstore in Virginia,” the Diamond says. “So if I were you, I’d focus my energy on whatever book they want you to reply in.”

“Pardon?” Clementine asks.

“You telling me those aren’t library call numbers?” the Diamond challenges. “They wrote to you in this book, now you write back in another. Communicating through books. Someone’s doing the Culper Ring proud.”

I once again think of Nico as all three of us stare down at the last line of the message:

WRITE BACK: NC 38.548.19 OR WU 773.427

No question, they definitely look like library call numbers. “There’s only one problem-” I begin.

“-and that is, we need to find those books right now,” Tot interrupts, shooting me a long hard look. I take the hint.

But as we head for the door, I hear the song “Islands in the Stream.” Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton. Tot’s phone.

“You’ve got Tot,” he answers, flipping it open. He nods, then nods again. But he doesn’t say a word. Even as he closes it.

“Daniel, thanks again for the help,” Tot finally announces, motioning me and Clementine out into the hallway.

“Don’t forget me and Rina,” the Diamond calls as we leave.

The lab’s bulletproof glass door slams shut with a cold clap, but all I hear is Tot’s quiet huffing as he shuffles back toward the elevators.

“The book that’s in those call numbers-you know which one it is, don’t you?” Clementine asks.

Tot ignores her. So do I.

“Who was that on the phone?” I ask him.

“Matthew,” Tot says.

“Who’s Matthew?”

“The guard at the front desk. With the caterpillar eyebrows. I paid him twenty bucks to keep an eye out,” Tot says as we all crowd into the waiting elevator. “Now if you move your heinie fast enough, we’re about to get our chance to finally grab Dustin Gyrich.”