Chapter 14: "How Long?"

Maggie looked from the printout in her hand to the traced map of central Europe. Solomon was never happy doing nothing. While she worked through the analysis of the various samples, he had traced the outlines of modern-day France, Germany, Switzerland, Luxembourg, Belgium, and the Netherlands, with parts of Austria and Italy showing at the edges. He had taken the pollen data and added in faint blue pencil the outlines of the regions the species was known in. Other lines, also in pencil but each in their own colour, had been added last, when the carbon dating data finally came in. These were the outlines of the countries that had existed when the pollen found its way into the box. Following imagined lines from the edges of the map, where longitude and latitude were marked, Maggie tapped a finger on a small blue edged blob on the border between modern day France and Germany. She nodded to herself and checked her watch. They had both worked late last night, but they were both early risers. At this hour, she would most likely find him in the training room, probably with Vincent.

Maggie made her way down a level to the fitness rooms. The building their benefactor had purchased for them could have housed far more labs than Solomon had, being given carte blanche on the outfitting of the place, installed. There were five floors in all, if you counted the basement. Archives and a few other things were housed down there. Fitness rooms, offices and a communal kitchen lived on the first floor, labs on the second, living quarters up on the third. She had no idea what was housed on the fourth. In all the years she had known and worked with Solomon, the topic of what was up on the top floor had come up once, when he introduced her to the building. She had asked and he had told her there was nothing, yet. Whether or not that was still the case had never come up.

The sound of laughter broke through Maggie's thoughts. It was Nikko's laughter, though Solomon's followed soon after. Maggie smiled. In the past two years, all the distance Haley's death had placed between father and son had receded. It was good to see. Haley would have been glad to see them so close too. Maggie paused at the door of the training room where the two were sparring and watched them trade more jests than jabs. There were few people left in their lives who had known them when Haley was around to complete the family, but Maggie had. She remembered watching Solomon and his wife train the same way, both before and after Nikko had come along. At least now, up against his son rather than his wife, Solomon had a chance of winning.

The pair finally noticed Maggie at the door and paused.

"Progress?" Solomon asked, throwing a towel at his son.

"The stable isotope analysis is back," nodded Maggie. "It confirms your hunch."

"Ah, you mean my deduction," corrected the professor.

"Lucky guess," smiled Maggie.

"Logic and deduction are just as scientific as…"

"We have a location?" Nikko broke in, passing a water bottle to his father. "We know where the tablet came from?"

"We know where it was placed in the box," corrected Maggie.

"Go on," said Solomon, handing the bottle back to his son. "Go take a shower and I'll meet you, and the others, in Maggie's lab."

Maggie watched Nikko disappear down the hall. "No offence, Solomon – I say this as your friend – but that boy isn't the only one in need of a shower."

"Hey!"

"I said what I said!" Maggie retorted with a smirk. "And I said what I came down here to say, so go do us all a favour and don't you come into my lab until you can walk in there without me having to recalibrate all those super-sensitive new toys we just got!"

XXXX

"How is your Alaskan puzzle box progressing?" Anthony enquired politely.

He was walking Juliet to work – a daily custom – and it was obvious her mind was preoccupied by something far more interesting than their usual topics of real estate, city architecture, and making up stories about the people they passed on their way. The bright sun of late summer threw gently waving patterns of light and shade through the leafy branches above onto the street below, and Juliet's eyes seemed to have been mesmerised by their rippling dance for the past block and a half.

"Hm?" Juliet looked up at a nudge from Anthony. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Your little puzzle box that you were looking at the other day," Anthony patiently repeated. "You had some text to translate, didn't you? How are you doing with it? It seems stuck on your mind this morning. Or is this some new puzzle you're thinking of?"

"Oh, that," Juliet shook her head. "No – I mean yes. No… Um…"

"It can't be both, my dear," beamed Anthony, with his most charming smile.

"I finished my translation," explained Juliet. "It wasn't that I was thinking of."

"Already!" Anthony smiled. "That was fast! What did it say? Anything interesting?"

"There wasn't that much text," frowned Juliet, wondering what made her more uncomfortable: the questions her boyfriend asked her or the way he asked them. "When the script and the language a text is written in are both known, translating is a straightforward task, for the most part. Cal had the more difficult job."

"Ah, you were working with Calvin," smiled Anthony, though if Juliet had been watching him she might have noticed the smile did not reach his eyes. "How is he? No more accidents I hope."

"Oh, um… Fine, I guess. No more crutches, anyway, although Cal does spend most of the day sitting down. He tries to hide it if anyone's around but I can tell he's still in some pain. I don't know what medication the doctors put him on, but he's probably not taking anything for pain relief. Not unless there's some other reason for taking it too. You know: like anti-inflammatories. Cal's stubborn like that. He wouldn't take anything at all when he had that fall in Syria. Although Cal did managed to run through a handful of corridors with a bullet hole in his leg once, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised."

"He does appear undisputedly accident prone," hissed Anthony, through his teeth. "What was it that happened in Syria?"

"Oh, nothing particularly untoward," shrugged Juliet, watching the dancing sunlight shiver in a sudden breeze. "A floor he was excavating was the ceiling to something else and it gave way below him. It's a hazard of the job. Cal was fine."

"Not so fine that he didn't hold you up for weeks, my dear," Anthony contradicted with a gentle smile. This time his eyes did crease a little.

"Oh, that wasn't Cal's injuries," Juliet assured her boyfriend, oblivious to the faint dimming of the smile this news caused. "That was what we found in the room he fell into, and those leading off it. We spent most of our time there cataloguing what we found so that we could go back with a team later. Cal was determined to take a record of as much as possible, you know: just in case. It's not the most stable region of the world. With only the two of us if took longer than it would usually."

"Only the two of you, yes," mused Anthony. "And when do I get to see these marvels that you keep discovering? Surely a museum somewhere will want to exhibit them? Or is that something else the good professor wishes to keep to himself?"

"What? Oh, no, most of those artefacts are still in situ: Cal and I didn't move them. We took as many records as we could, like I said, but we couldn't move most of the things we found. It will take a lot of specialised kit to… well, to do what we need to do there. I'm sorry, I don't think the professor would like me talking about it too much. Especially when Cal and I haven't really had time to analyse the data we brought back."

"Not even to me?" Anthony coaxed. "You know I don't understand half of what you tell me, I just like to hear you talk about your work."

Juliet's lip twitched upwards in a half smile. "Even so, it's part of the job. None of us can discuss our finds with anyone, outside of the team, until…"

"…until they are made public knowledge, yes, I know. I do remember you telling me, darling," Anthony smiled. "I just don't see why that rule has to include one's partner. Surely it can't be right for them to keep something so trivial from our private discussions. It's not like we're shouting our business to the whole street."

"But we are on the street, Anthony, and those are the rules," Juliet growled, pulling her arm free from her boyfriend's grasp. "Anyway, we're here now and I think it's best you go. Cal and I have work to do and Vincent is probably still on the lookout for you. One foot into the courtyard and he'll be standing at that door ready to send you on your way. In fact, it might be better if we make that a rule from now on."

Juliet turned her back on her boyfriend without waiting for his reply. She reached the door without pausing to glance behind her. When she did, Anthony was gone, swallowed up by the morning hustle and bustle of the street. The door opened for her, but it was Nikko, not Vincent who held it.

"No Tony this morning?" Nikko grinned, utterly devoid of shame as usual.

"I thought it was best he stay outside the foundation gates from now on," she replied, nodding her thanks as she stepped inside. "No Vincent? He was glaring through the window at us yesterday!"

"Dentist appointment, I think," shrugged Nikko. "Dad dragged me down to train with him instead. Anyway, I'm sure Tony's learnt his lesson. Vincent's being especially terrifying right now."

"He's just a little overprotective," laughed Juliet. "We were married for an evening once, you know."

XXXX

"How long?"

"Two years," replied Vincent.

"And you knew nothing of this?"

"Nothing, I assure you." Vincent looked up at his companion, who was now staring back at him in incredulity. "The first instance occurred soon after our return from your father's castle. He told none of us, and was accepted into his father's alma mater on an accelerated course the week after. He has practiced his ability, and explored it somewhat, in the privacy of his dorm room, and it was not until his graduation ceremony that he found he could affect objects further from him than a metre or so."

De Molay tugged at his chin in thought. "It is imperative that his training now focusses on this psychokinesis and any other abilities that may henceforth develop. He may very well be more important than we believed. And you say you have a new lead on the Ring?"

"Indeed," Vincent nodded. "Though what exactly we may expect to find at the location is anyone's guess. The tablet we retrieved in Alaska is similar enough to the one found on Elm Island to hypothesise that it too is one of the spacers in the Ring. I believe, once the riddle found in the coded section is deciphered, it will lead us to another clue, rather than a part of the Ring itself, but Solomon is more optimistic."

"That it should arise now, as young Nikko rejoins the team, is significant, I am certain. Solomon spent years chasing down leads until his son joined him, and in the past two years progress has slowed almost to a standstill, save in those holidays where Nikko returns. He is linked to the Ring. More so than any of the others. His safety is now paramount, Vincent. You must protect him at all costs!"

"Even at that of another member of the team?" Vincent queried, a miniscule flicker of a frown the only hint of discomfort.

"Even at that of every other member of the team!" De Molay insisted. "Even Solomon himself! Nicholas may be the key to everything, Vincent! He is now far more important than his father!"

"Understood," Vincent nodded and rose. "One more thing," he said, half turned towards the door. "Nikko has asked that I keep this ability a secret from the others, and especially from his father."

"An interesting request considering what these people have endured together," mused de Molay. "What was your reply?"

"I said I would think about it," replied Vincent, watching his employer keenly. "I wished to update you before making any decision. On the one hand, keeping something like this from Solomon may damage his trust in me. On the other, as I suspected, you now wish my primary allegiance to lie with Nikko, not his father. Does this extend to more than the boy's security? Do you want me to keep his secrets too?"

De Molay was silent for a moment, staring down at the notes and diagrams on his desk. "Hardly a boy now, I would say. You and I were both deemed men by his age. One does not reach adulthood by surviving a set number of years or by only making right choices. One reaches adulthood by taking ownership of the consequences of those choices, be they right or wrong. He has a right to his own secrets, especially when keeping said secret for him can only strengthen your bond."

"The knowledge of his abilities may affect how his father utilises him in the field. He is no longer a pawn on the board," argued Vincent, watching de Molay's face all the while. "He is, at the very least, a knight."

"He may even be more important a piece than that," nodded de Molay. "You must use your own judgement in this, I fear, my friend. Keep his secret as long as seems fitting to you. If the situation arises where you feel it must be shared, then do so, however seems best. I trust in your abilities, Vincent. They have not let us down thus far."

De Molay watched Vincent leave then, when the click of the latch signalled the closing of his study door, turned his attention back to the papers on his desk. Most were notes he had made through the years on the possibilities of certain personages. Some were diagrams of items he deemed important in his grand endeavour. A few were maps or architectural plans. One was a genealogical tree. De Molay's right hand smoothed the paper of the much added to tree. His own name was on there, generations back. It was not his own name, however, that his eye now rested on. Instead, index finger tapping in a rare display of troubled thoughts, the name de Molay looked upon was Zond.