Deep Storm by Lincoln Child Page B

depression settled over him. At last, he pushed the final book away, blinked his eyes, and rubbed the small of his back. Three days of grueling travel to godforsaken spots, three nights of sleeping in cold rooms of drafty stone, were catching up with him. He glanced up at the massively built library, with its Romanesque vaulted ceiling and narrow windows of crude but charming stained glass. Late-afternoon light was slanting through them now, daubing the library in a mosaic of color. The monks, as was their custom, would put him up for the night after all, there was no other accommodation for many miles and no roads to bear him away. In the morning, a hired trawler would take him back to the mainlandand then where? He realized, with a sinking feeling, he did not know where to turn next.
     
    In the silence behind him came the clearing of a throat. Dr. Logan turned to see the abbot, arms behind his back, regarding him. Father Bronwyn gave a kindly smile.
     
    No luck? he asked in a quiet voice.
     
    Logan shook his head.
     
    The abbot came forward. I wish you would let me assist you. I dont know what you seek, but it is clearly something of great importance at least to you. I may be an inquisitive old fool, but I know how to keep secrets entrusted to me. Let me help you. Tell me what you seek.
     
    Logan hesitated. More than once, his client had emphasized the need for complete discretion. But what good was discretion if one had nothing to be discreet about? He had visited three repositories of critical knowledge, and several others of lesser relevance, while furnished with only the vaguest of assignments. Unsurprisingly, he had found nothing.
     
    He looked carefully at the abbot. Im looking for local accounts eyewitness accounts, preferably of a certain event.
     
    I see. And what event is that?
     
    I dont know.
     
    The abbot raised his eyebrows. Indeed? That does make things difficult.
     
    All I know is that the event would be significant enough, or perhaps unusual enough, to prompt recording in a historical text. Most likely, an ecclesiastical historical text.
     
    Slowly, the abbot moved around the table and sat down once again. As he did so, his eyes never left Dr. Logans.
     
    An unusual event. Such as a miracle?
     
    That is quite possible. Logan hesitated. But its my understanding the miracle how can I say it? might not have its roots in a divine source.
     
    In other words, the source could be demonic.
     
    Dr. Logan nodded.
     
    Is that all the information you have?
     
    Not quite. I also have a time frame and an approximate location.
     
    Pray continue.
     
    The event would have taken place roughly six hundred years ago. And it would have happened there. And he raised his hand and pointed toward the northwest wall of the library.
     
    At this, the abbot started visibly. Over water?
     
    Yes. Something seen by a local fisherman, say, straying far from shore. Or perhaps, if the day was exceptionally clear, something observed on the horizon by a person walking the coastal cliffs.
     
    The abbot began to speak, then paused as if reconsidering. The other two monastic libraries you visited, he began again quietly. They, too, were situated on the coast were they not? Both of them overlooking the North Atlantic. Just as we do.
     
    Logan considered this a moment. Then he nodded almost imperceptibly.
     
    For a moment, the abbot did not reply. He looked past Logan and his eyes went distant, as if viewing something far away or, perhaps, long past. At the front of the library, a monk gathered several books under his arm, then slipped out on noiseless feet. The dusty old room fell into an intense silence.
     
    At last, Father Bronwyn stood up. Please wait, he said. Ill be back shortly.
     
    Logan did as requested. And within ten minutes the abbot returned, carrying something gingerly between his hands: a bulky rectangular object wrapped in a rough black cloth. The abbot laid the object on the table, then drew the cloth