“What do you mean?” Daniel looked at him askance.
“I mean there’s some ambiguity about where she was positioned before she started her trip east. It’s possible she flew directly from Nabta Playa which would mean the latitude we’re trying to find is farther north.”
Daniel scrutinized the earlier clue. “Oh, dear.” He gave Chris a stricken look. “I was so sure we had it figured out.”
“Take your finger off the panic button. It’s no big deal. Instead of one place in India, you end up with two spots to search. That still narrows the sub-continent down considerably. All we have to do is figure out what’s east of Nabta Playa that might have caught the interest of the Minoans.”
Daniel dived for the keyboard once more.
Chris unexpectedly rose from the table. “I need more rocket fuel to get through this. I don’t suppose you want anything while I’m up?”
Daniel ducked his head guiltily. “Maybe another one of those espresso drinks but this time with lots of cream and sugar added.”
Chris tousled the scion’s hair. “I knew you’d see the light.”
While the librarian was getting their order, Daniel continued to experiment with various search strings. What he found surprised him. When Chris returned, he said, “I’d forgotten how important the Tropic of Cancer was to ancient peoples. They frequently built religious sites along that line of latitude because the sun casts no shadow there at noon on the longest day of the year. Some of those religious sites even contained astronomical markers for all the solstices and equinoxes.”
“Is there a place like that on the west coast of India?” Chris asked, resuming his seat.
“Yes. A ruined city in the northwest corner of the country located precisely on the Tropic of Cancer. It’s called Dholavira, and you could draw a straight line to it from Nabta Playa.”
The librarian cocked an amused eyebrow. “So much for today’s translation crisis, Danny Boy. Between us, we managed to crack that unsolvable clue of yours in just over an hour.”
The scion blushed with embarrassment. “When I called you this morning, I was flustered, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Chris handed him his cup of espresso. “Hence the need for copious quantities of caffeine—in your case, liberally diluted with cream and sugar. After a few more cups of this, you and I might even be able to figure out where Jimmy Hoffa is buried.”
“Jimmy who?”
“Never mind. Just drink up.”
Chapter 33—Silent Night
Annabeth rolled over in bed and consulted the digital display on her alarm clock. 3:30 AM. Thank goodness, the baby had taken his 2 AM feeding and gone straight back to sleep. She might get at least two hours of rest herself. He’d become increasingly fussy during the past few weeks, especially in the middle of the night. She slid out from under the covers and tiptoed toward the bathroom to answer the call of nature, luxuriating in the fact that it was HER bathroom. No more late-night trips down a drafty hallway to visit the shared facilities.
She paused next to the crib to gaze down tenderly at the little miracle that had been responsible for her elevation in status and its ensuing privileges. A blue nightlight glowed softly on the wall beside his tiny bed. It cast a gentle indigo radiance over his features. Annabeth fancied that his lips were tinged a deeper shade of blue than the rest of his face. She laid her hand gently on his abdomen as she adjusted his coverlet. A shock wave traveled up her fingers when she could feel no movement of breath in his chest. He remained perfectly still. Panic constricted her throat. She shook him roughly, not caring if he woke up crying so long as he woke up. But he still didn’t stir. Fumbling for his wrist, she couldn’t find a pulse. Annabeth gripped the rail of the crib, staring stupidly at the motionless baby—postponing the inevitable moment when the sickening truth would hit her full-force.
***
Daniel found himself immersed in a surprisingly pleasant dream. He sat next to the banks of a slow-moving river, reveling in its tranquility as he watched the current flow by. He was waiting for Chris to arrive to share the picnic they’d planned for that afternoon. From out of nowhere, a strange sound interrupted his reverie. In the midst of this green paradise, he thought he detected the persistent wail of an ambulance. Where could it be coming from? He turned his head this way and that to catch its direction, but it seemed to be echoing from all sides at once—he could even feel the clamor reverberate inside his head. It eventually jarred him out of his dream and into consciousness.
He sat up, groggily rubbing his forehead. Then his eyes flew open in alarm. He’d managed to identify the noise. It was a woman screaming. Her voice cascaded down the marble corridor—traveling fast toward his room. He jumped out of bed and quickly donned a robe. The shrieking culminated in the sound of fists hammering at his door.
“Daniel, Daniel, wake up!”
He recognized the voice. It was Annabeth.
The scion swung the portal open just in time to catch his wife as she collapsed sobbing into his arms.
By this time, the hallway outside his room was clogged with several dozen members of the community—their voices buzzing like a swarm of alarmed and confused bees.
Annabeth continued to wail incoherently despite Daniel’s attempts to elicit an explanation. He sat her down in an armchair and ran to the bathroom to fetch a glass of water.
Her shrieks had apparently carried all the way to his father’s chambers in the other wing of the compound because Abraham’s voice could be heard bellowing above the collective uproar.
The old man stormed into Daniel’s
