Albadi glowed. “Yes, yes. The Tarikh Dimashiq is in seventy-two volumes and is one of most important books about the Islamic history of Syria. Asakir tried to collect everything about our city, its important people, and even their conversations. It is also one of the biggest collections of ancient Arabic poems gathered in one book.”

“Beautiful.” Matt ran his fingers lightly over the cover. “It’s been around for nearly nine hundred years. Magnificent copy.”

Albadi shrugged. “Magnificent, yes; a copy, no. This is the original Tarikh Dimashiq.”

Matt’s mouth fell open. “Then it’s priceless.” He pulled his hands back. “What is it doing here?”

Albadi opened his arms and turned slowly, taking in the stacks of books, papers and material around the room. “The Kitab al-zuhd and Kitab al-fada’il, written in 840, the al-Jam bayn al-gharibayn of 1010, the Gharib al-hadith by Ibn Qutaybah al-Dinawari of 889 – they’re all here.” He walked along a row of books, trailing his fingers lightly across the top of some as though they were jewels. “Remember Libya, Iraq, or Afghanistan? After their formal governments were toppled, one of the first acts of barbarism was the looting or destruction of the contents of the museums and libraries.” He shook his head. “It is said some of the theft was carried out to order.”

“Collectors with shopping lists.” Tania Kovitz spat the words. “Bastards.”

Albadi frowned at the harshness of her words, but then nodded. “And none have yet been found. Syrian treasures, which had taken centuries to find and amass, vanished within hours of the uprising.”

He looked up at the group, his smile weak. “Syria is an unstable place right now. The Az-Zahiriyah Library of Damascus is our oldest, established in 1277. It has books and manuscripts dating back to the first millennium – over twenty-two thousand of them.” He held up a fist. “I will not see its treasures whisked away to end up in a rich man’s private collection or destroyed in some sort of stone-age religious purification.” He waved an arm and sighed. “Here, I can keep them safe, until things…settle down.”

The tea and coffee arrived and they gathered around a low table. Tania was straining to keep herself under control as a servant poured the drinks. She declined some dates and honeyed pistachio, and then couldn’t hold back any more. “Doctor Albadi, you found something among your ancient books and manuscripts? Something that gives you some clue as to what is going on with the birds, the disappearances, the earth-drops and their growing size?”

“And the vermin that precede them…the roaches.” Albadi held up a hand. He waited until the servant had finished his task and left the room. He shrugged apologetically. “We must be watchful. Not everyone will be happy with what we will do and say here.” He sat back and interlocked fingers on his stomach.

“Roaches?” Matt asked.

“There were roaches in the Iowa drop,” Andy said. “Didn’t think anything of it then…should I have?”