Ghosts in the Machine (The Babel Trilogy Book 2) by Richard Farr Page A

you to see at the museum in Heraklion.
    “Now open this one,” I said, picking another file at random near the end of the list. It was a Disk we’d never seen.
    “Must be one of Cicero’s souvenirs,” Rosko said. “From the wreck.”
    “Then we have all thirty-four known Disks here.”
    He nodded. “Sixty-eight sides. Mayo must have had them, like he told you, and Bill managed to steal these images.”
    “I can unpick the puzzle now,” I said. “I’m sure I can.” I was trying for total confidence, which was way more than I felt; it didn’t help that Rosko said nothing. I wanted to say, What? What? Don’t you believe me? I settled instead for “The first thing is to not lose any of this.”
    “I can upload it all to—”
    “No. Not the web. But make sure we have it safe. Save the files to something portable too. I should get down to work right away and—”
    A door slammed, and I heard the beep of a car being locked. You were already standing at the window, as if you’d anticipated the noise. Rosko stood up and looked out over your shoulder. “It’s Ella. Driving a huge new truck. Toyota Testosterone, Chevy MegaHeavy, something like that.”
    I looked out too. She had just climbed out and was adjusting a stretchy, horizontally striped black-and-white microskirt.
    “She’s got a thing for you, Rosko. You do know that, don’t you?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “I’m serious. The hots, totally.”
    He turned to the screen again. “This is a big job. Full manual count of the symbols, key in all the data, reconfigure the statistical app.”
    “I should stay here, then. Get started.”
    “Don’t do that. You need the break. We both need the break. And it’s a one-night thing—we’ll be back here tomorrow. Soon enough.”
    “Bill looked for this material for ten years. Now I have it in my hands, and you want me to leave it?”
    “For a few hours, yes. Come back to this rested.”
    There was a bang on the screen door. “You guys ready to roll?”
    I went to let her in. “Hi, Ella. Killer skirt.”
    She used both hands to smooth it against her thighs, then adjusted her earrings, which were wooden X and Y Scrabble tiles. “I already picked up Kit for you.” She was speaking to me, but looking past me at Rosko. “Are you coming or not?”
    Picked up Kit for you. Was that merely an odd way to put it? A slip of the tongue? Or a carefully calibrated tease? Whatever: sure enough, Kit was stepping out of the truck on the far side of the street. She hadn’t seen me. She was standing under a cherry tree, right hand on left shoulder, stretching. Above her, a solitary scrap of cloud was glowing pink in a clear sky.
    We had a full set of Disk images. A real breakthrough at last? Now maybe I could get somewhere? The right thing to do, obviously, was blow off the trip and get down to work without delay. And part of me wanted nothing more than that.
    Part of me. But we all live with little hints of schizophrenia, don’t we? It was like two people squabbling inside my head. Left brain, right brain. Or sensible brain, insane brain.
    The Disks!
    The chance to get out of the Eislers’ house and be around Kit!
    The Disks!
    The chance—
    “We’ve not even thought about food, or what clothes to bring, or camping gear,” Rosko said to Ella.
    “Julia’s bringing food for an army. I have spare camping gear. How long will it take you to find a sleeping bag, warm clothes, and a toothbrush?”
    I took a long look at the image on the screen. When I looked at Ella again, she was using an antique silver compact to adjust her jet-black lipstick. I felt weak and stupid for doing the wrong thing.
    “Five minutes,” I said.

C HAPTER 6
    F OOL FOR L OVE
    It was an ordinary drive. A strange journey. A turning point.
    For an hour, up into the mountains, we talked about everything and nothing. Ella seemed relaxed, even if she kept glancing sideways at Rosko. Rosko seemed no more troubled than usual and yawned