Newton’s Fire

THIRTY-TWO
I

The floor of the crypt was crowded with memorial plaques for the great and the good, so that picking one’s way between them seemed like a macabre game of hopscotch. That impression was heightened by the gloomy lighting, for though there were chandeliers and wall-lamps everywhere, they were all turned atmospherically low.

Luke and Rachel found Nelson’s ebony coffin easily enough, high on a marble plinth between Wellington’s tomb and the Churchill Gate. It wasn’t the coffin that caught Luke’s attention, however, but rather the layout of the place itself, a small dome supported by eight pairs ofpillars, just like the main cupola on the floor above.

‘So?’ asked Rachel, when he pointed it out to her.

‘The tomb of Christian Rosencreutz,’ said Luke. ‘The vault beneath the Ashmolean. The dome upstairs. The Greek Cross design. Now this. Everywhere we go, eight sides topped by a dome.’

She nodded. ‘What does it mean?’

‘I don’t know. But it can’t be coincidence, can it?’

The floor around the tomb was laid with geometric mosaics. He crouched by one depicting the mystery of the Trinity, and smiled to himself. Newton would have just loved that. ‘So what are we thinking?’ he asked, looking up at Rachel.

‘You first.’

‘Okay. How about this: Tradescant the Elder is on his travels when he acquires something extraordinary. Maybe he comes to believe he’s been sold a fake, and is embarrassed by it; or maybe he thinks it’s just too precious to declare. Whatever, he doesn’t put it on display, doesn’t even tell his son about it. But then Ashmole comes cataloguing and recognizes it for what it is. He sets his heart on it and tricks Tradescant the Younger and his wife out of it. Then he brings in the other members of the cabal. He can’t bear to part with it until he dies, however, at which time he leaves it to Newton. But Newton, Wren and Evelyn want it in London rather than the Ashmolean. They want it here beneath the dome.’

‘But they can’t bring it here until Wren has built a vault for it,’ said Rachel, picking up the thread. ‘And that’s not so easy, what with this place on a schedule and a budget. So he starts muttering about cracks in the piers, giving himself the perfect excuse to dig up the floor. But now he can’t bear the thought of people mocking him for his mistake, so he spreads a rumour about cutting through the anchors before laying them. And he and the others also arrange for a cipher to be left in the Ashmolean vault, perhaps as a kind of apology to Ashmole for having reneged on their-’

Alarm bells began to sound at that moment, screeching like a natal ward. Everyone stopped what they were doing, but calmly, assuming it was a malfunction or a drill. But the noise went on and on, and the guides and wardens began hustling visitors towards the exits. Luke glanced at Rachel. ‘It’s those bastards again,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll bet it is.’

Rachel grimaced. ‘How did they find us?’

‘Maybe they didn’t. Maybe they just cracked the cipher themselves.’

‘If they’ve found the cipher, they have to know we were in the vault before them. They’re bound to be looking for us.’ Even as she spoke, she recognized a man near the exit, scouring the crowds as they filed out. She grabbed Luke’s wrist and pulled him behind a pillar. ‘Our fair-haired friend,’ she whispered.

‘Hell,’ said Luke.

‘What do we do? They’ll be watching all the exits.’

He nodded towards the Triforium steps. ‘Let’s try Trevor. Tell him everything, throw ourselves on his mercy.’

‘You think he’ll believe us?’

‘Only one way to find out,’ said Luke.