A Vision of Fire

She thought back to the call she had received from Mikel when he landed in Montevideo. The field agent had mentioned something strange—a flock of albatrosses that had flown directly at the plane from the north.

Davies put her cell phone away and walked up the vast stone steps to the front door of the Global Explorers’ Club. There would be no sleep tonight.

CHAPTER 18

Under orders from Joseph P. O’Hara, Caitlin was allowed to send exactly one e-mail about the drawing before she went to bed.

“That’s it, little lady,” he’d said in a voice she recognized from those old, old days when he let her make a phone call or have a Scooter Pie before retiring.

She had to tell Ben, and she had to tell him now; it couldn’t wait. Caitlin took her tablet into the bedroom, sat cross-legged against the headboard, prepared an e-mail with attached notes from her trip and a photo of Gaelle’s sketch, then wrote:

You might think I’m crazy but forget Polynesia. That’s not what I drew. Dad recognized it: a Viking longship. The teeth are either circular shields on the hull or people sitting inside it; the eyes are the tall, curved carvings at the prow and stern. He’s been dabbling in genealogy and our Irish roots are all mixed in with Scottish and Norse. He hit a few museum collections online and he saw a brooch design very similar to this. Gaelle sketched a symbol too—see the jpeg—that seems Celtic to me. Could the ship be connected to Gaelle’s almost drowning? I know that sounds nuts and you’re probably too busy to meet but call if you can tomorrow. I mean today. Tuesday. Thanks. —C xo

Caitlin set the tablet on the floor and crashed. Her mind and energy and body had all hit a wall and she had no trouble sleeping through the night.

She awoke feeling rested but restless, with a readiness to prowl through this mystery. Her father dropped Jacob off at school on his way out of the city and Caitlin looked over her work schedule. There was nothing until noon, after which the day was packed. To her surprise, Ben had not only called early and left a message but had time to meet. She called him back as soon as her “lads” were gone.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, Cai.”

“That’s not good news, is it? That you have free time?” She didn’t really have to ask; his solemn voice said it all.

“No, it’s not,” he said. “The highest-level diplomats haven’t come back to the table. They’ve sent their lower-level people—trusted staff, essentially—to sort of act as placeholders. They can’t say much so they’re taking a lot of breaks.”

“So the world is closer to the brink?”

“I wouldn’t say closer,” Ben replied. “More like the cliff could give out with just one good sneeze. I’ll tell you more in person,” he said cautiously. “So please, let’s talk about something we can actually work out.”

“Roger that, and I have to say I’m really glad you can meet.”

Ben laughed, somewhat wryly. “Is that a crisis in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“Both.” Caitlin laughed and said good-bye.

She slugged down some coffee her father had made and headed out. It was one of those blessedly mild days that late fall in New York sometimes delivered. Caitlin appreciated the transition from the heat of Haiti so she texted Ben suggesting they walk. He readily agreed.

Sitting in the cab for the short ride over, she saw the already infamous “Rat Pack” video on the backseat monitor. It was creepy, and the speculation was that Con Ed’s working underground replacing cables had caused the rodents to leave their “homes.” What was even creepier was the army of pest control personnel descending on stately Fifth Avenue, bagging dead rats and setting traps.

Caitlin met Ben with a warm hug that momentarily pushed his long, drawn expression into something like a smile. They strolled north from the United Nations through the small park in Turtle Bay. The sunlight glittered on the East River and they unbuttoned their coats.

“Anything new with Maanik?” Caitlin asked.

“She had a small incident,” he said. “Hansa found her talking to the dog in the middle of the night. What was strange was that he seemed to be listening. When Hansa tried to get her back to bed, Maanik started sobbing and flailing a little. But your cue worked.”

“How are her parents doing?”