“Neither has Detective Jensen,” Meng jabbed. Jensen shot him a frown. “C’mon, my man.” Meng gave Charlie a hand up the steps.

“Have a good flight,” Jensen said.

“What are you going to be up to while we’re gone?” Meng asked after Charlie ducked inside.

“I have to keep an eye on the grandma,” Jensen said. “I might have to pull the plug on her later.”

“Grandma duty. Nice,” Meng said, ascending the stairs. “You get all the good jobs.” He chuckled.

“Hey, you’re the one doing the babysitting.”

Meng didn’t bother responding. He had more important things to do than play verbal volleyball with wannabes like Jensen. He closed the door to the jet and walked over to Charlie, who was sitting in a leather recliner. On the table in front of the boy was the Gutenberg Bible Gomez had retrieved, which seemed almost to hum with energy.

“I know what that is,” Charlie said. “My mom showed me one at the library.”

“She did? You’re quite a lucky kid, then. Most people go their whole lives without seeing anything like this,” Meng said, sitting in the chair opposite the boy. He thumbed through the pages until he reached one of the illuminations that had been sent to Xandria.

“It’s like a comic book!” Charlie said.

“Oh, it’s much better than a comic book,” Meng said, turning the book to face Charlie.

“You’ve obviously never read Watchmen,” Charlie said.

“You’ve read Watchmen?”

“No,” Charlie confessed. “But my dad gave me first editions of the original set that I can read when I’m sixteen, but only if I’m really, really careful and don’t bend the corners of the pages.”

“Does your dad force you to be so careful with all your books?”

“Pretty much. My mom too. She’s an archaeobibliologist.”

“A what?”

“Arch-ae-o-bib-liologist,” he pronounced.

“That’s a big word for a little kid.”

“I know how to spell lyceum too,” Charlie said. “L-Y-C-E-U-M.”

“Great,” Meng said, thinking he might have preferred grandma duty.

The jet engines fired up, and they shot down the runway. Within seconds they were airborne.

“So when you saw this book before, did your mom let you look in it?” Meng asked.

“No. I had to sit on a chair across the room. I couldn’t even breathe on it.”

Meng promptly picked up the book and set it on Charlie’s lap. “Go ahead,” he said. “Look at it all you want.”

“Really?”

“No lie,” Meng said. “And . . . oh, never mind. That might be too hard for you.”

“What?”

“It’s an FBI job. I don’t think a kid could do it.”

Charlie lit up like a firecracker. “I know I could do it! Please, please, please!”

“Okay. But I told you. It’s a hard job.”

“I can do it,” Charlie said, his face marked with determination.

“Do you know what an illumination is?” Meng asked.