“It’s okay,” April said. “Some people need more than dusty old pages.” She looked around at the children’s faces. “But there’s always a few that understand the magic.”

“Children, let’s all give our guide a big thank-you before we go,” the teacher said.

“Thank you!” came the obligatory chorus. The teacher thanked April as well, then paraded the children out of the room. As they left, April noticed a man standing next to the exit. His thin, Asian face was familiar, but April couldn’t remember why. He was staring at her.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to cause any unnecessary alarm to the children. Very interesting tour.”

That’s why she knew his face. He had been following the group at a distance. But he was not obvious about it, always turned away, always with an open book in his hands. The book was gone now. “Thank you for the compliment, but you might find the regular tour more interesting. If you’d like, I could—”

“No,” he said, walking toward her. “I didn’t come here for a tour. I came here to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“About the Gutenberg,” he said, pointing toward the display case. “Has anyone contacted you about it recently?”

People were always contacting her about the Gutenberg. It was a milestone in history, marking a pivotal shift in the power structure of the world. It was the launchpad for both the Renaissance and the Reformation. These qualities, when united with its gape-jawed splendor and bank-breaking rarity, resulted in a slew of research requests from historians, scientists, archaeologists, bibliophiles, and even religious fanatics. But none of their wishes were ever granted. The Gutenberg was off-limits to everyone. Except her.

She placed a protective hand on the display case. “You need to tell me who you are before we talk about the Gutenberg.”

He opened his jacket and flashed a badge. “FBI. Name’s Meng. What can you tell me about a man named Alex Pierson?”

April hadn’t heard that name since she and August had divorced. Years ago, Alex and August were bitter rivals in the rare-book industry. Everything changed when Alex accepted the prestigious title of head curator at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York. After that, Alex and August became inseparable, brought together by the library’s massive collection of rare manuscripts. “He’s a friend of my ex-husband’s,” she explained. “I never knew him well myself.”

“Late last night, two men forced him to open the book vault at the Morgan Library. It contains hundreds of priceless items, but when police searched it this morning, only one book was missing.”

April was afraid she knew which book it was. “A Gutenberg Bible,” she said.

“The vellum copy.”

“What happened to Alex? Is he okay?” April asked, remembering his wife and three children.

“I’m afraid not. Shot twice in the back.”