A Deceit to Die For Read Online Free PDF

Saturday afternoon?”
    He moved aside and opened the door. She entered like a cloud of honeysuckle and jasmine, hung her umbrella in the entry and slipped off a purple rain coat to reveal a sleek black dress that hugged a body toned by constant exercise. She was forty-nine going on thirty-five, almost fifteen years his junior.
    “I’m surprised you braved the rain. It’s been pouring,” he said, trying to move the conversation to something safe and neutral while he cleared the fog that always descended on his mind when he was with her.
    “It’s rain, Ian, and I’m Irish.”
    If he hadn’t known her better, the austerity dripping from her voice like a leaky roof would have felt like a slap in the face. It was all the harder to take coming from a creature of such surpassing beauty and it wasn’t just her sparkling blue eyes, or her curly locks of thick, black hair; it was her intellectual passion and boundless curiosity.
    “You didn’t think a little water falling from the sky could keep me from our weekly tea, did you? Besides, I’m dying to know what you found at the sale. It was awfully cruel of you to run off without me. Sending me a text on your way to the airport was absolutely heartless.”
    She smiled as she said it, her way of driving the knife edge of her displeasure even deeper.
    “Well, I only found out at the last minute myself. A friend of Charles heard about it from a bookseller in Amsterdam. Charles was in London, so he called in for tea and told me I should move on it immediately. I was on the evening plane. If I’d had more forewarning, maybe I could have arranged something.”
    “I’m surprised you didn’t, knowing how much I love Amsterdam. Oh well, it can’t be helped. I hope you have some tea on.”
    “As a matter of fact I do,” he replied. She was already heading towards the kitchen.
    “Well, are you going to tell me whether your week away from me was worth it?”
    “Amsterdam was incredible. So vibrant, so full of energy and life.”
    “Did it make you feel younger than I do?”
    Ian felt his cheeks getting hot. She continued. “Did you find anything in our field?”
    “Our field . . .” His voice trailed off. “What could I find in our field? Our field is a dead end. If there is one thing I have often regretted, it is my choice of a field.”
    Her gasp literally sucked the oxygen out of the air.
    “Ian, you can’t be serious. History is a sacred trust. The future of civilization lies with those who have the keys to the past. We are the guardians.”
    “Are you sure that isn’t just a mantra we keep chanting to our narcissistic egos in an attempt to put a good face on our irrelevance? History is important. It’s Byzantine history that isn’t. Think about it. Babylon predates the Byzantine Empire by one thousand years and wrote its history on clay tablets, yet there are more Babylonian sources than there are documents from the Byzantine Empire. Research requires sources, Judith, and we have none to speak of. Besides, you are hardly in the field anymore.”
    “Once a historian, always a historian. It’s not my fault I was selected to be the UK special representative on the UN Committee for the Protection and Promotion of Diversity in Cultural Expression. That was a door that history opened for me. What is it you’re always saying? ‘History and philosophy are the prerequisites for policy and therefore politicians.’ I’m sure you said it better.”
    “True enough.”
    “So, the trip was a waste?”
    “Not exactly. I was able to purchase a collection of personal correspondence ranging from 1604 to 1738. They are mostly Dutch and Spanish, but there are a couple of interesting pieces in Aljamiado. I’ll need to have them translated.”
    “What makes you think they might be relevant?”
    “According to the bookseller, they were part of a private collection held by a Morisco descendant. He was unable or unwilling to provide further details.”
    “That sounds