Page 156 of Eternal Surrender

The answers seemed just out of reach.

Gothic arches swept up, elegantly curving along the dimly lit corridor toward the north side of the nave. I paused to appreciate David Livingston’s tomb. His epitaph stated he was a doctor and missionary who’d spent much of his life exploring Africa, and I remembered him fondly as one of Victorian Britain’s most popular heroes.

I caught up with Ingrid again.

She was riveted by Sir Isaac Newton’s tomb. The monument was grandiose, a sculptured Newton lay upon a black-marble sarcophagus, an uncanny younger version of the man, elaborately carved, reclining back onto his beloved books as two child angels nestled close, guarding over both him and his scientific discoveries. Above, a giant orb was decorated with heavenly bodies and upon that sat the goddess of astronomy.

Ingrid turned to me at once. “The cufflink.” Her hand slid into her pocket, and she held it in her palm, studying it again.

I studied the monument. “Newton was one of the most influential men in history.”

“He was a physicist.” Ingrid placed the cufflink in my palm. “Discovered gravity when he saw an apple fall.”

I pointed to the orb. “An astronomer.”

“An alchemist?”

“That’s right.”

“We need to find out what this symbol represents.” She turned to face me. “I know this sounds crazy. . . “

“Go on.”

“What if Dominion was never even in the tomb that Sovereign watched over?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Sovereign guarded it with their lives. If members of the Stone Masters tried to move Dominion, then it wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Men talk. Rumors circulate. And the Stone Masters never accused Sovereign of stealing him.”

I was stunned. “Why would men guard a tomb with nothing inside?”

Ingrid stared off. “Exactly.”

Two choirboys strolled toward us, and we waited for them to pass.

Ingrid’s mobile vibrated in her pocket. She removed it and read the screen. “It’s my boss.” She strolled away from the nave to take the call.

“Was that Vanderbilt?” I asked concerned.

“No, my boss from New Scotland Yard.”

The choirboys began lighting candles, diligently carrying out their duties as altar boys.

Ingrid rejoined me. “That mummy I’ve been trying to find. The one stolen from the museum. . . it just turned up.”

“Where?”

“Back at the museum. Placed in its original case.”

“That’s odd.”

“Forensics are on the scene.” She studied Newton’s likeness. “Was he ever a member of a secret society?”

“There were rumors, yes.”

Ingrid rubbed her forehead. “Why would Westminster Abbey be in the forefront of Alastair’s mind?”

“Maybe he was meant to meet someone here?” I asked.