“I showed your people into the lounge in the suite,” the man was saying, “and gave them coffee, as you requested, sir.”

“Thank you.”

The elevator door opened and the party stepped into the hall. “The Davies Suite is on the left,” Walters directed them.

Angelo opened the door and stepped back, and Walters entered in front of Calvin. Over his shoulder Calvin could see the beautiful main room in yellow and white with its polished wood floor. Two men stood in front of the window backlit by the morning sun. Walters strode across the space and embraced each of them with a formal hug.

“This is the young man I’ve been telling you about, Calvin Petersen. He is my personal protégé and the man whom I hope will lead us to the answers we’ve been searching for, for years.” FW sounded unusually solemn.

“Calvin, my colleagues.” He gestured with his arm, offering no names, though Calvin was vaguely aware he knew one or both of the faces from the broad arena of politics, or perhaps from appearances on religious television.

FW lifted the briefcase onto the table and snapped it open. Out of it he took what looked like a parchment and an exquisite portrait miniature. “Well, my bad angel?” Walters asked quietly.

Angelo stepped forward with his hands clasped. “Sir, I explained to the V&A that this was a recent—bequest—to our college. They confirmed that the portrait is late sixteenth century, and just possibly a genuine Hilliard, but it doesn’t appear to be cataloged so it may only be a copy of a lost original. They cannot as yet identify the subject. The papers”—he turned some documents over—“are of interest to the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge. They are what they called fine copies of some original text, possibly now lost, which they said they could not without further study confirm; but they may be from Dr. Dee’s papers—except for this one sheet, which looks to be some kind of extract from a play script. They took a copy and will have a handwriting expert examine them—if we wish. They seemed quite excited about this one—though they are cautious in case it’s a forgery.” He looked up at the eager faces and continued: “The small books in Latin are still with an antiquarian bookseller for examination, but the Bible is very old, and valuable. I have someone working on the marked passages—which are revelatory, it appears.”

Walters nodded once to the complete report, and handed the miniature to Calvin. “It goes without saying that this is all strictly sub rosa, Calvin. A beautiful lady, isn’t she?” he said. “Do you think she could be an ancestral member of your family?”