GREGORY EVANS WALKED aimlessly through the various galleries, waiting for someone to contact him. It was only a few minutes before eight — the time when the museum doors closed until the next day — so he made an effort to locate the person he was supposed to meet before the security guards began to ask everyone to leave.
The place was packed with tourists eager for culture and knowledge. They walked back and forth, observing the various figures and ornaments displayed behind the enormous armored glass display cases. He followed most of the people wandering around with his gaze, but none of them showed any intention of approaching.
At that very moment, he heard a voice coming from behind him.
— In the treasures of wisdom are the maxims of science. — He turned quickly. Before him stood an Arab dressed in the country's ancient tradition. His gauze tunic with gold trim on the sleeves looked elegant, despite the enormous gold medallion hanging from his neck, a strange circular talisman with a square inside. Within this square, he saw a triangle bearing the symbol of the Tetragrammaton: the name of Yahweh.
It seemed paradoxical that an Arab would wear this adornment that invoked the power of the Jewish god, when any Muslim would rather have their skin ripped off than let anyone place such a relic on them. Yahweh and Allah had been at war for centuries, but this man didn't seem to know it.
— Shall I have to interpret the meaning of the sentence? — he asked finally, after examining the strange creature from top to bottom.
The man smiled gently.
— It's just a comment to be taken into account — he acknowledged gently. — It belongs to the book called Ecclesiasticus. You are not obliged to understand its message, but I am of the opinion that such words should be heard by all men... — He then extended his arm to introduce himself. — ...my name is Khalib Ibn Allal and I am the director-general of the museum.
Evans accepted the greeting, shaking his hand.
— I'm Gregory Evans, but I don't know if...
— Don't worry, Mr. Evans — the other interrupted him politely. — I know perfectly well who you are...and also what you're looking for.
The detective reacted by tensing his body, upon discovering that he was his contact.
— You're mistaken if you think I'm interested in uncovering the store's mysteries. All I care about is knowing if Giovanna Monroe is okay.
The fact that they were the ones in control of the situation made him feel a bit uneasy, but he knew how to act firmly, so as not to publicly demonstrate the insecurity that feeling watched made him feel.
— Azogue is doing very well — his interlocutor told him, adopting a much more ceremonial attitude.
— What did you call her? — he asked, perplexed.
— Azogue — the other repeated. — It's a word used in alchemy. It's composed of the first and last letters of the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew alphabets. It's Giovanna's Masonic name.
— I don't believe it! — she exclaimed loudly. — You're trying to confuse me...! — She swallowed with difficulty and raised her voice. — I know Umbert is behind all this, but I won't allow them to involve Giovanna in something so sordid.
Many tourists began to murmur when they heard them arguing. Hiram had no choice but to try to calm them down. It wasn't wise to draw attention to himself.
— It would be best if you came with me... — She nodded, inviting him to walk. — You'll understand everything after we talk in my office.
He followed a corridor to the right, where a sign hung, warning — in English, French, and Arabic — that no one from outside the museum would enter. Then he walked through another entrance, whose walls were lined with cedar, and finally, they reached a circular room with a pink porphyry fountain in the center. On the other side was a door. It was the director's office.
Hiram unlocked the door, allowing his guest access. As soon as he entered, he noticed that it was a small office with an old table in the center. The walls were lined with shelves filled with ancient books.
In a crystal urn, leaning against the wall, he could see that several Egyptian amulets were kept, such as scarabs, ansata crosses and mortuary figures carved in lapis lazuli.
— Please, sit down... — with his left hand, he indicated an empty chair, situated in front of the table — ...can I call you?
— Please... — Greg replied, not knowing where his interlocutor was going with such familiarity.
Hiram, circumspect, took his place on the other side of the table.
— You must be wondering who we are and what our purpose really is... — he began —, and also perhaps why we were able to silence the voices of those who put our store's best-kept secret in danger.
— You don't need to know their works to know that they are unscrupulous people — he stated bluntly.
— Do you think that way about Giovanna too?
He had put his finger on the wound. He had admitted her guilt, he assumed it was implied. And he wasn't about to believe something like that.
— If it's any consolation, Giovanna had nothing to do with the murders — good Hiram said before the other could retort, upset.
— I already knew that — replied the detective, feeling more at ease when he was certain that his partner was not involved in the crimes.
— Listen — the Arab said, — I don't expect you to trust me, but you can pretend to. — He looked him in the eye, hoping he would cooperate in any way possible. — I know it was an unforgivable mistake to end the paleographer's life, but the decision was made by the Master of Masters and some of the more conservative members of the Council. Balkis and I only found out after the first murder. We couldn't prevent the director's death either, but at no point did we participate in this aberration, not even Azogue...
The Arab smiled and continued:
— She knew you long before Viana brought the unfortunate manuscript with him. Even though I admit we forced her to watch you and used her to lure you into the crypt... — he paused briefly, then added, — ...the blow to your head hurt her more than it did you.
— Was it Giovanna who...? — he wanted to know, fearing the answer.
Hiram smiled again.
— Absolutely not. I wouldn't have done such a thing... — He thought it was funny to see the detective's face when he imagined Giovanna with a blunt object in her hand. — That time it was The Master, or rather Umbert, who hit you.
Evans rolled his eyes.
— Was Monroe able to climb down the sewer hole and into the narrow corridor without breaking any bones?
— it took a lot of effort for him to accept something like that.
— Appearances can be deceiving.
— It's not possible.
— For your information, I'll tell you that the master is not only the Master of Masters of the lodge, but also, in his youth, he was one of the best cavers in his country. He descended into caves so deep, it makes me dizzy just thinking about it. He taught Giovanna, when she was a child, to love this kind of activity.
The truth is they still practice frequently, though not as much since she met him. Gregory Evans recalled the moment Giovanna fell through the hole, about to land on top of him. The brazen woman was mocking him. What didn't surprise him much was learning, from a reliable source, that the veteran architect was the leader of that group of lunatics.
— And now that I know the truth about who is who... will you tell me what terrible secret you are hiding and for which you are capable of murdering innocent people?
— I think you already know.
— So that's what the Ark of the Covenant thing is, right?
Hiram's face remained impassive. He wavered between answering and remaining silent. Finally, he gave in to Evans's curiosity, because that was what he'd been told to do.
— That was the name Moses gave it, although we call it the Throne of God, but I don't think we should talk about that, only about its great liberating power and how it can affect your future and Giovanna's. You two have been chosen to be the new Secret Keepers, as long as you agree to it.