The Cartographers(41)

He ordered a beer for himself, and they took a few awkward sips in silence. At least they were talking—not fighting—this time, he thought, heartened.

Felix turned on his stool to face her. Ainsley had said at her presentation that the news Haberson had won the contract to take over security for the library wasn’t public yet, but he could tell Nell about the security video, since she’d been the one to give it to him.

“I watched it,” he said. “The footage from the robbery.”

“And?” Nell asked, her eyes suddenly laser-like in their focus, like how they’d been every time they’d started a new project together.

“I went over everything three times. Cross-referenced every camera and speaker, and went through every line of data.” He sighed uneasily. “The police are right. It’s inconclusive.”

She frowned. “What does it show?”

Felix pulled his phone out. “Better if you just watch.”

Nell gave him a curious look, and then leaned in as he hit play.

As the video rolled, he tried not to notice, but he could feel the light touch of air on his cheek each time she breathed. Saw her flinch as the guard went down, disappearing into the dark shadows on the floor. He could smell the faint floral trace of her shampoo—it was the same one she’d used back when they’d been together. He’d always loved the scent of it.

The clip ended, and Felix pulled back abruptly, before Nell noticed how close they’d been sitting.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “I can’t see how the burglar got in or out of the Map Division. But the only way there is through the lobby.”

“I know,” he agreed. “That’s why the cops aren’t able to do anything useful with it.”

“And you couldn’t find anything more about how he covered his tracks?” she asked. “Like, I don’t know, hidden in the code, or however it works?”

Felix shook his head. “I tried everything I could think of. There’s just nothing. No gaps in the film, no looped footage, no tampering, nothing. It’s just . . . inconclusive.” He looked down at his phone. “But after having seen this and considering those prices we found—whatever’s going on, it’s sophisticated. This could be very dangerous, Nell. I really think you should tell the police sooner rather than later.”

“I will, I will,” Nell replied.

“When?” he urged, a familiar tone slipping into his voice. With a Young, unless you agreed on a firm date to stop working on something, “soon” meant “when I’m satisfied.” It had taken him years, and no shortage of last-minute arguments the night before a paper at UCLA or the NYPL was due, to learn this lesson—but the stakes were much higher this time. And so was the danger.

She smiled, and he wondered which old project of theirs she was remembering. “Actually, the day the library was burgled, Irene Pérez Montilla told me she thought Dr. Young was secretly working on a big project just before he passed away. Something that would help the library secure extra funding, due to its rarity or prestige. I offered to look through his personal things for her while the library did the same with his office, to buy myself some time to figure out if it really was this map. I’m supposed to meet her on Sunday, to tell her what I managed to find.”

Felix scooted closer. “Nell, if you just show her the prices we found, and tell her about the strange disappearances of all the other copies from the interinstitutional database, that would at least be enough to convince her the map is important, and worth protecting. She might even—”

“She did,” Nell said. “Practically offered it to me at the funeral, if I can deliver.”

“Your old job?”

Nell nodded.

“Nell, that’s great . . .” Felix started to say, but the words petered out when he saw her expression. Despite the good news, she looked as lost as she had the day of the Junk Box Incident. Confused, desperate. Vulnerable. A stab of sympathy in his chest caught him by surprise.

“I know it is. And I want it. More than anything. But I also wish I could figure more out before I have to turn it all over to her and the police, and let them take over,” she replied. “He was my father, you know? I just want to know why.”

“I understand,” he said softly.

She sighed. “It feels over, before it even began.”

He nodded. But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? One last favor for old, kind Swann, she’d said. Then they could go back to living their own lives. To never seeing each other again.

It was better that way. Wasn’t it?

To his astonishment, his hand was suddenly up, signaling the bartender to send them another round.

What was he doing? he cried inwardly.

Nell opened her mouth to say something, equally stunned, but the bartender was already pouring.

He waited tensely for her reaction as two fresh glasses thudded down in front of them. She’d been too late to cancel his order, but she could still get up and walk out anyway. No one could make Nell do something she didn’t want to do.

It was going to be bad, no matter what. He just didn’t know if it was going to be awkward excuses and false apologies about it getting late sort of bad, or laugh in his face sort of bad.

At last, she picked up her drink.