“Calvin.” He leaned in quietly. “We have discussed this. We could be looking at one of the great historical finds in our time. We’d both like The College to be part of this. Academic glory for you. A book in it, certainly. From a career point of view, it could be the making of you. And from a religious perspective, of course, it would be fascinating. I expect it could verify the whole theory of the Rapture, which we have been working toward for years. Dee certainly would have known about it. I would think you could just…state your claim…”

His voice trailed off suggestively, without any hint of urgency; but Calvin knew it was his chance to be something of a hero to The College. Many people—not least those at The College—would give a good deal to take control of what was in the legacy from Dee. Any man would feel the importance it accorded him, and for Calvin it came with an additional awareness of his value to FW, who was a politically and socially influential man. He recognized right now the directive he had been given to get the key back from Alex—or Lucy, if she was still holding on to it—by any means. FW wouldn’t wait forever.

The waiter discreetly put the bill on the table and Professor Walters signed without looking, tucking a large bill for a tip into the leather holder. They stood to go, and the maître d’ appeared with Calvin’s coat. Walters pushed another American note into his hand and took Calvin by the arm.

“Have you got a minute?” It wasn’t a question. “Let’s go up to my suite. There’s something that might interest you, and a couple of people you should meet. It will help you to understand how crucial this might be.”

As they crossed the elegant Art Deco lobby, a man rose from a chair and stepped into the elevator in front of them. Walters and Calvin followed him in and turned to face the door.

“Did you achieve everything, Mephistopheles?” Walters spoke without looking at him.

“Yes, Professor Walters. It was informative.” The stranger handed Walters a small leather document case.

“This is Angelo, Calvin, though I have other names for him. At times he can be a bit of a bad angel. He works for me in Europe.” Professor Walters’s tone was oblique.

Calvin turned and stared into the unfamiliar face. Everything about him was unremarkable, except that he had the yellow eyes of a cat. Calvin couldn’t place the accent.

“Nice to meet you,” Calvin said without meaning it, noticing the stranger was immaculately dressed in a fine dark suit and cashmere overcoat. The man nodded politely to Calvin, which for some reason made him feel a shade uneasy. He wondered what FW meant by a “bad angel.”