The book had a glossy black cover, and embossed silver foil lettering. Its front and back covers were cluttered with rapturous quotations from famous people from over a hundred years ago. They all said things like “Spellbinding” and “Life-changing” and “Indescribably brilliant and strange.” But one of the quotations in particular had really intrigued Wolf. It said, “Whatever you are searching for, this book will lead you to it.”

Could that possibly be true? How?

The book was old, but it didn’t look like old books were supposed to. It was a cheap, thick paperback that had obviously been a massive bestseller in its time. It looked like the kind of book that would make you go on a stupid diet, or tell you that you were the reincarnation of Henry VIII, or how to make a million pounds in a week. Wolf knew about those books, too, because Leonard Levar had a section especially for them. But this book had not been shelved there. This one had been shelved with books on military strategy and old Dungeons & Dragons magazines. Why?

As he picked up the thick paperback, Wolf wondered if it was possible that a book really could lead you to something you were searching for. Surely all readers of a book would be searching for different things? But he couldn’t help wondering. What if the book could lead him to Natasha?

But of course that would be impossible. It was stupid even to contemplate. Wolf felt full of trepidation as he held the dark volume in his hands. Fear. Well, Wolf knew what you did with fear—especially irrational fear like this. You had to face it, to conquer it. He turned to the first page of The Answer.

It was full of numbers.

What on earth . . . ?

He flicked to the second page. More numbers. Was this some sort of joke? Or maybe a printing error? Perhaps it was a secret code. But who wanted to read a whole book in secret code? Wolf carried on flicking. Yes, the whole book, covered as it was with promises and quotations, and costing, back in 2014, when it was published, £8.99, was unintelligible. Or was it? Maybe there was a key or something in the back? But no. Wolf didn’t understand why a book that looked like a cheap thriller would want to make it so difficult for you to read it anyway. It was a complete mystery.

Wolf decided it must be a little joke of Monsieur Valentin’s.

He sighed and put the book back.

There were no answers except the ones you made yourself. He already knew that. He went to bed and fell straight to sleep.

Terrence Deer-Hart’s knees were beginning to hurt. Surely someone would think of giving him a little cushion to put under them? But no. They’d been chanting in some ancient language—possibly Latin—for quite a long time now.

Eventually the chanting stopped.