The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,46
men, grabbed the children’s hands, and led them out of the pub. As Jamie reached for the door handle, Captain Chamberlain’s voice could be heard booming across the room.
“Men, I tell ya, nannies don’t come any homelier than that.”
The pub exploded into guffaws as the door slammed shut.
From his vantage point at the bar, Jonathon Wilkes watched Jamie Galway and the children leave the raucous pub. Wilkes took a sip from his ale and wondered how Galway had managed to get that little boy out of quarantine in such quick order. He congratulated himself on not taking any chances. A less detailed man might have waited for the end of the three-week quarantine before beginning the surveillance of the Carpathia crew. His attention to detail, as always, was going to pay off in spades.
He knew if Galway was going to track down his brother, he was eventually going to have to come here and talk to the captain of the Carpathia. Wilkes had already checked the Montreal quarantine station for the Galway lad and while playing the part of a distressed uncle, had discovered the news of Ryan Galway’s death. Without his brother, Jamie Galway would need to talk to the crew in order to track down the book. Sure enough, Galway showed up, just as planned. He didn’t know who that ginger-headed girl was with him, but it didn’t matter. By moving further down the bar and listening in, he managed to hear just enough conversation over the boisterous crowd. The boy was unknowingly going to lead him to the book and his next fortune. Since he didn’t know what the book looked like, he would need the help of the young Irish priest to find it. He threw some coins on the bar and pushed away his half-empty mug.
“Leaving early tonight, Mr. Wilkes?” asked the bartender.
“I’m afraid so,” he said, smiling. “I have some unfinished business to attend to.”
Beth led them once again to St. James Street. The crowds were thin as the shops had already closed for the night. Jamie threw Colin up on his shoulders as they hurried to the address of a bookseller given to him by a passerby. Four streets later, they arrived at a tiny establishment with a store window displaying everything from popular author Charles Dickens to a new children’s story titled “The Little Mermaid” by Hans Christian Andersen. The name “Kessler Books” was written in big letters on the awning above the doorway. Jamie was surprised the door was unlocked. As they stepped through the doorway, the distinct smell of musty old books brought Jamie right back to the old Irish church libraries where he’d completed his years of study. He glanced at shelves of reading material, recognizing many of the books as classics.
“Hello?” a deep, friendly voice called out from the backroom. “I’m sorry, we are presently closed for the night.”
A man with wire-rimmed glasses and a thick, greying goatee shuffled out the door. His eyes were kind and curious as he inspected the young shoppers.
“It’s a bit of an emergency,” explained Jamie. “I was hoping I could ask you a question before you close your shop.”
“All right then,” the shopkeeper replied in a friendly voice. “Does it have to do with a book?”
“Yes, it does, and I must say, sir, you have an impressive selection of reading material.”
“Do you read quite a bit?” asked the old man.
“Whenever I can. The last story I read, Wuthering Heights, I found to be quite a passionate tale. It was so different from anything else I have ever read.”
The old man looked at the boy over the steel rims of his glasses, surprised. “Wuthering Heights by Ellis Bell? An excellent read, but the first addition just arrived in my store a few weeks ago! Only stores in Britain would have had copies before me. Have you just arrived from overseas?”
Jamie managed a smile. “Very recently. In fact, that is why I’m here. Someone illegally removed property from my deceased brother during a recent crossing, and I’m desperate to reclaim the item. It is an old family heirloom. I was told it might have been brought to you recently for purchase.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your brother. I’ll certainly try to help. Could you describe the book for me?”
“It’s a very old book, centuries old, and one that would be extremely rare for anyone, especially in North America, to ever see outside of a museum. The scriptures within were written in a combination