The Moses Stone

22

'So what's the verdict?' Chris Bronson asked, as he recognized Angela's voice.

'It's a virtually worthless clay tablet that probably dates from around the start of the first millennium,' Angela said, 'but that's not why I'm calling.'

Something in her voice registered with Bronson. 'What's wrong?'

She took a deep breath. 'When I came back from lunch today I found someone had searched my office.'

'Are you sure?'

'Quite sure. It wasn't ransacked, nothing like that, but some of the papers and stuff on my desk had definitely been moved and another couple of the photographs you sent me were missing. And my computer screen was on, showing the screen-saver.'

'Which means?'

'The screen-saver starts after five minutes' inactivity and then runs for fifteen minutes. After that, the screen goes blank. I was out of the office for just over an hour.'

'So somebody must have used your computer between five and twenty minutes before you came back. What was on it? Anything confidential?'

'Nothing, as far as I know,' Angela said, 'but my screensaver's password-protected so whoever it was couldn't have accessed it anyway.' She paused, and when she spoke again Bronson could hear the tension in her voice. 'But that's not all.'

'What else?'

'I had a few things to do this afternoon so I left the museum shortly after lunch. A few minutes after I got back to the flat I heard a noise outside the door. When I looked through the spy-hole there were two men standing in the corridor. One of them was holding a jemmy or something like that, and the other one was carrying a gun.'

'Jesus, Angela. Are you OK? Did you call the police? Where are you now?'

'Yes, I called them, and I suppose there's some chance they'll send a bobby round there sometime this week, but I wasn't going to hang around waiting for him to turn up. I ran out of the back door and down the fire escape. And right now I'm heading for Heathrow.'

'Where are you going?' Bronson demanded.

'Casablanca. I'll let you know my flight details when I get to the airport. The flight goes through Paris with a stopover, so I'll be quite late. You will pick me up, won't you?'

'Of course. But why—'

'I'm just like you, Chris. I don't believe in coincidence.

There's something about that clay tablet, or maybe what's written on it, that's dangerous. First my office, then my flat. I want to get out of the way until we find out what's going on. And I'll feel safer with you than I do here in London by myself.'

'Thanks.' For a moment Bronson was lost for words. 'Call me when you know your flight details, Angela. I'll be at Casablanca waiting for you. You know I'll always be waiting for you.'