Angelology(149)

once they found me,” Verlaine said.

“They would have taken the letters, of course,” Gabriella answered calmly. “Once they had them in

their possession, they would have killed you.”

Verlaine turned this over in his mind for a moment. He couldn’t understand how the letters could

possibly be so important. Finally, Verlaine said, “Do you have a theory as to why they would do

this?”

“I have a theory about everything, Mr. Verlaine.” Gabriella smiled for the first time in their brief

acquaintance. “First, they believe, as I do, that the letters in your possession contain valuable

information. Second, they want the information very badly.”

“Enough to kill for it?”

“Certainly,” Gabriella replied. “They have killed many times for information of much less

importance.”

“I don’t understand,” Verlaine said, pulling the duffel bag onto his lap—a protective movement

that, he could see from the flicker in her gaze, did not escape Gabriella’s notice. “They have not read

Innocenta’s letters.”

This information gave Gabriella pause. “Are you certain?”

“I didn’t give them to Grigori,” Verlaine said. “I wasn’t sure what they were when I found them,

and I wanted to be certain of their authenticity before alerting him. In my line of work, it is essential

to verify everything beforehand.”

Gabriella opened the drawer of a small escritoire, took a cigarette from a case, fitted it into a

lacquered holder, and lit it with a small gold lighter. The scent of spiced tobacco filled the room.

When she held the case to Verlaine, offering him a cigarette, he accepted. He considered asking for a

strong drink to accompany it.

“Truthfully,” he said at last, “I don’t have a clue how I got involved in this. I don’t know why those

men, or whatever they are, were at my place. I admit I’ve picked up some odd information about

Grigori while working for him, but everyone knows that man is an eccentric. Frankly, I’m beginning

to wonder if I might simply be going insane. Can you tell me why I’m here?”

Gabriella assessed him, as if contemplating the appropriate response. At last she said, “I have

brought you here, Mr. Verlaine, because we need you.”

“‘We’?” Verlaine replied.

“We ask that you help us recover something very precious.”

“The discovery made in the Rhodope Mountains?”

Gabriella’s face turned pale at Verlaine’s words. He felt a brief flicker of triumph—for once he

had surprised her.

“You know about the journey to the Rhodopes?” she said, recovering her composure.

“It is mentioned in a letter from Abigail Rockefeller that Evangeline showed me yesterday. I

gathered that they were discussing the recovery of some sort of antiquity, perhaps Greek pottery or

Thracian art. Although now I see that the discovery was more valuable than a few clay jars.”

“Quite a bit more valuable,” Gabriella said, finishing the cigarette and putting it out in an ashtray.

“But its worth is assessed differently than you might think. It isn’t a value that can be quantified with

money, although over the past two thousand years there has been much, much gold spent trying to

obtain it. Let me put it this way: It has an ancient value.”

“It is a historical artifact?” Verlaine asked.

“You might say so,” Gabriella said, crossing her arms against her chest. “It is very old, but this is

no museum piece. It is as relevant today as it was in the past. It could affect the lives of millions of

people, and, even more important, it could change the course of the future.”

“Sounds like a riddle,” Verlaine said, extinguishing the cigarette.

“I’m not going to play games with you. We haven’t the time. The situation is much more

complicated than you realize. What happened to you this morning began many ages ago. I don’t know

how you became enmeshed in this affair, but the letters in your possession place you firmly at the

center.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will have to trust me,” Gabriella said. “I’ll tell you everything, but it must be a trade. For this

knowledge you will give up your freedom. After tonight either you will become one of us or you will

go into hiding. In any case you will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. Once you

know the history of our mission and how Mrs. Rockefeller became involved—which is only a very

minor component to a large and complex tale—you will be part of a terrible drama, one that there is