The Lost Island Read Online Free PDF Page A

Crew.”
    “Julia Murphy.”
    “Murphy. Irish, by any chance?” He raised an eyebrow comically.
    “What about Crew? What kind of a name is that?”
    “A distinguished name of Old Welsh origin. Distinguished, that is, until a Crew nicked the bailiff’s moneybox and stowed away to America.”
    “Your ancestry is as elevated as mine.”
    The guards were already lining people up, organizing them for questioning. A commander—at least he had a couple of stripes on his shoulders—stepped forward and raised his hands.
    “May I have your attention, please!”
    The general hubbub died down.
    “I’m afraid that we can’t let anyone leave this room until everyone has been interviewed,” he announced. “It would greatly speed things up if all of you would please cooperate.”
    Murmurings, objections. “I want to get out of here!” one of the hysterics cried, to a scattered chorus of agreement.
    The commander raised his hand. “I promise you, we’re going to get you out of here as soon as possible. But to do that, we need your help. We’ve just had an attempted robbery of the Book of Kells, and there are certain protocols that must be followed. So I ask for your patience.”
    More murmuring, complaining, expostulation.
    “So what do you do?” Gideon asked.
    “I teach at Bryn Mawr. Romance languages—French, Italian, Spanish, and some Latin.”
    “Bryn Mawr,” he said. “A professor. Nice.”
    “And you?”
    The man hesitated. “Until recently, I worked at Los Alamos National Lab. I’m now on leave.”
    Julia was startled, taken aback even. “Los Alamos. You mean, where they build nuclear weapons?”
    “Not build. Design.”
    “Is that what you do? Design bombs?”
    “Among other things.”
    Was he joking? No, he wasn’t. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified. At least he wasn’t just another dumb, good-looking male.
    “I know,” he went on, defensively. “Maybe my profession sounds a little sketchy. But really, I’m an American doing my duty to keep my country safe and all that.”
    Julia shook her head. “I can just see you talking like that at a faculty sherry at Bryn Mawr. Oh, God, they’d label you a killer.”
    “And what do you think?”
    She gave him a level gaze. “Do you care what I think?”
    He returned the gaze, and she was a little taken aback by its intensity. “Yes.”
    He gave this a peculiar emphasis that caused her to blush, and as she became aware she was blushing, she only turned redder. “I’m not sure what I think,” was all she could say.
    They were silent for a few minutes. She glanced over to where the book had been placed back within its cradle. Several guards were hunched over it, examining it with enormous care—turning the pages with white-gloved hands. They seemed to be getting more and more agitated. Moments later they called out to the commander, who bustled over. A short, intense confab took place, and then the commander spoke furiously into his radio. The crowd, noticing the change, fell into a hush.
    The commander raised his arm again. “I need your attention. It appears a page has been cut from the Book of Kells and is missing.”
    A gasp from the audience.
    “The page must still be in this room. So I am afraid to say that no one can be allowed out without being questioned and searched. We’re obtaining the necessary warrants as I speak. The security door must remain closed until we recover the missing page. I apologize for the inconvenience, but there’s nothing else we can do. We cannot let anyone out of this room without a thorough search.”
    “Wow,” said Julia. “The plot thickens.”
    Gideon Crew was peering around the room, lips pursed, his blue eyes sparkling. “Identified the thief yet?”
    “I still think it’s you. You come from a line of thieves and you do look a bit of a rogue. And…you look nervous.”
    He laughed. “And I’m sure you’re the thief. A professor of romance languages from Bryn Mawr—talk about