But how does any of this relate to a logic problem?
Thinking she was on the wrong track, she read a little bit more—and almost laughed out loud when she stumbled on the answer while browsing another article.
To apportion land for tax purposes, the Aztecs had developed a system of measurement based on a basic unit called a land rod. Despite extensive records in Aztec codices describing land surveys, researchers were stymied by a number of irregular plot dimensions. Why were some of the plots not divisible by the land rod? Finally, in 2008, they realized a number of repeating symbols seen in these irregular units had symbolic meaning—and they equated to fractions of a land rod. The use of fractions was a highly developed mathematical concept for the time period, and the researchers had simply overlooked it.
The symbols used as fractional units of measure by the Aztecs?
Arrows, hearts, hands, and bones.
Andie couldn’t believe it. It was barely even a puzzle. If she was right, she simply had to do the math on the last line of the image.
The image’s resemblance to a mathematical brainteaser could have taken her down a rabbit hole. It was a devious clue. She also suspected the variables—the watch, the crack in the heart, the arrows pointing in different directions—were red herrings designed to add to the confusion.
The fourth line of the puzzle—the one with the question mark at the end—depicted two arrows facing in opposite directions, plus three arms, divided by three hands clutching a bone. Cautiously optimistic, she added up the fractional values. An arrow equaled half a land rod. An arm equaled a third. A hand meant two-fifths, and a bone, three-fifths.
One plus three, divided by three.
She quickly scribbled the math, and came up with 1.3 repeating. Was that the answer? Given the values of the Aztec symbols, she’d guessed an integer would be the solution. But there was only one way to find out.
Andie crept into the hallway, up the staircase, and into the Hall of Mexico and Central America without seeing any guards. She ducked beneath the camera at the entrance to the hall and hurried past. Unless a security guard was watching her enter right that very moment, she should be fine—at least until it was time to leave the museum.
The exhibit hall was quite dark. She felt like an archaeologist discovering an abandoned city as she crept past glass cases full of relics, feeling her way along. Guided by memory, gripping the Star Phone in her hand, she made it all the way to the sun stone before risking her flashlight.
In the solemn hush of the museum, the face of the Earth god in the center of the artifact seemed more alive than before, daring her to probe his secrets. After standing very still to listen, she entered 1.3 into the keypad on the Star Phone, and aimed it at the giant solar disk.
The face of the stone remained unchanged.
Unfazed, she tried it again, punching in as many threes as she could, taking the fraction to the limit.
Still nothing.
No. This has to be it. I don’t have time to go back to the drawing board.
Wanting to scream in frustration, she aimed the Star Phone at the sun stone again and studied the image of the puzzle. After regarding it for a long moment, she slapped her forehead and groaned. She had failed to count the hands attached to the arms on the last line. Her eyes had glossed right over them.
Dr. Corwin always lectured on how our own brains can trick us, and taught me not to overlook the obvious.
She redid the simple math. One plus six divided by three.
Holding her breath, she entered the new solution in the keypad, 2.3 repeating, typing in as many threes as she could, then aimed the Star Phone at the artifact. Almost at once, the stone began to rotate to the left, slowly and silently, exposing a circular opening yawning in the wall behind it.
Shanghai 23
Daiyu heard a ping and saw a message from Jianyu on the hologram floating above her workspace.
I’m in place.
Her eyes flicked downward, to the trio of monitors on the desk, each of which displayed a hijacked video feed from the security cameras at the Museum of Natural History in New York. The monitor on the left was aimed at the employee entrance outside the building, where Daiyu saw her brother and two of his agents, all wearing dark clothing and earpieces, flattened against the wall. Jianyu texted again.
Okay to enter?
Daiyu replied by speaking into her bio-bracelet. “Wait.” The bracelet was linked to the hologram, the monitors, and her laptop, and would relay her response to Jianyu’s cell phone using an encrypted internet-based call app she had developed for the Ascendants.
She used the bio-bracelet to whisk through the video feeds inside the museum and ensure no guards were close to the employee entrance. Once her brother and his agents were inside, she would help them sedate the two security guards, then guide them to the target. If possible, they would see where Andie was headed before taking her.
Go. Proceed to the second floor as discussed, and I will instruct you from there.
Is the target still unarmed?
Yes.
It’s possible she stored a weapon in the restroom. Can you tell?
Not yet. But take nothing for granted.
Understood.
Good luck.
Luck is unnecessary. I have you.
Be careful. I still have not located Zawadi. She could be nearby.
I hope she comes. We have business to settle.
Annoyed by her brother’s bravado, Daiyu left the chat open on the hologram and returned to manipulating the video feeds. It should be an easy operation. The target was resourceful but not dangerous. Jianyu had two agents with him, and more at the museum’s exit points. With Daiyu watching from her God’s-eye view, it should be impossible for the target to elude them.
Ever since they had
