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Rune Alignment

Chapter 1

"Rune alignment is correct. Language and syntax are appropriate to the time. Carbon dating will confirm the age of the stone. My preliminary assessment is that the artifact is authentic." Dr. Gleason Wintermantle snapped off the latex gloves after returning the plate-size flat stone to its padded box.

"What about the context of the writing? Shipping off the north coast of what is now Scotland was dangerous and infrequent at that time. Why does this stone say otherwise?"

Bobby Goren stood silently at the back of the conference room during Wintermantle's entire presentation, until now.

Perplexed, she turned to look at him, as did Deakins and Eames. "I'm not sure the stone contradicts that," she replied.

Goren looked steadily at the professor. She was smart – really, really smart, articulate. Easy to look at, too – probably an inch or two under six-foot, trim, with a mass of reddish curls barely kept under control in some sort of twist. Her voice, though, that did it for him. Her voice was deep for a woman, silky deep, almost husky, with a whisper of an accent. He wanted to keep her talking.

"Well, not 'contradict' exactly. Maybe 'belies the validity of fact'?" Bobby countered.

Wintermantle was about to rebut when Deakins interrupted, "Enough, we're not going to debate the minutia. Dr. Wintermantle has indicated that the evidence is authentic and will verify that with additional examination. That is all we needed to know right now. Thank you Dr. Wintermantle, we will be in touch if we need to. An officer will show you downstairs."

"I'll show you the way," Goren offered, grabbed his portfolio from the table, and stepped to open the door. Dr. Wintermantle shook hands with Eames and Deakins, picked up her bag and crossed to the door.

"Well, we have our evidence," Deakins said to Eames, "Call Carver." She nodded and Deakins left the conference room. Eames watched her partner walk away with the good professor. There he goes, she thought.

"I'd like to continue our conversation sometime if you'd like to," Goren said as they walked the short distance to the elevators. Was that cinnamon? "I mean, maybe over dinner? On the other hand, I could cook and you could come to my place, or at your place. I'm a pretty good cook with some things." Why couldn't he stop talking? He sounded like an awkward fifteen-year-old talking to the prettiest girl in school. He felt himself starting to sweat. This was not like him at all.

He did not notice when Wintermantle had stopped walking three steps back. "Detective," she said. Goren halted, looked up and stepped back to her side. His face was pink and he could not make eye contact. "Detective, I would love to have the chance to duel this out with you; but I will overwhelmingly prove you wrong. I suggest you concede right here." Goren finally looked up. Her grin spoke volumes.

"Alright, I . . . I, um . . .," Goren's right hand clutched his portfolio to his chest like a life ring while his left hand chopped at the air as he tried to find the words, any words.

Wintermantle laid a hand on his right arm. "Detective Goren, are you asking me out?"

A quick glance up and then a sheepish, "Yes."

"How about we start with coffee? Tomorrow evening? My class ends at 8:30. Is that too late"

"No, no that's fine. That's good." He could breathe again.

"Where shall I meet you?"

"I'll come by the University and pick you up. Where is your class? I'll wait for you."

"You don't have to do that. I'll have my car. I'll meet you somewhere. " she said.

"No, I want to," Goren worried that he was pleading.

"Alright, but we'll have to take both cars," Wintermantle negotiated.

"That's a good compromise. Where will I find you?"

"I'm on the second floor of Belzberg Hall, right off . . . "

"I know it," he interrupted. "Second floor, right. Eight thirty."

The elevator doors opened for the second time and Wintermantle stepped inside, turned, and smiled that smile. Goren's breath caught in his chest and he waved. The doors closed and he felt like that fifteen-year-old when the pretty girl said yes.

"So, you get your date?" Eames asked when Goren returned to his desk.

"What?"

"Are you going to go out with her?"

"Actually, we're going to meet to discuss the discrepancy I believe appears in the stone," Goren responded, not looking at Eames, busy sorting through his portfolio.

"Oh, is that what it is, a scholarly discussion over some obscure detail that means nothing in the big picture and is probably moot anyway," Eames answered with more edge than she intended.

Goren looked questioningly at his partner. "Are you upset that I want to have an intelligent discussion with an expert?"

"I'm not upset about anything. Can we change the subject? Carver is on his way over to get the reports on the artifact and begin the paperwork. You want to get your stuff in order so I can get everything organized and you can go get ready for your date?" Ouch, that edge is sharp, she thought.

"You started it," he muttered. Then, "Eames, it's not a date. It's a conversation and it's not tonight. OK?"

"OK, fine," Eames started sorting papers with energy that would have ripped lesser paper. Goren returned his attention to his portfolio and grinned at the thought that Eames might be jealous. He smiled outright at the thought of tomorrow night.