“Before you go.” Alex stole her hand and walked her to the desk in his open-plan office overlooking the rear garden. “Look what Max did with the set of copies, before I flew to France to find you.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. The clever seven-year-old had brought another perspective to the puzzle. He’d pieced together the pattern on the reverse of the texts, linking the pictures in a way no one had thought to try. And now, it was clear half of the picture was missing. It resembled part of a face, in a kind of labyrinth.

“It looks as though, if we had the original new documents, there could be a path which would trace right through the coils, to the middle.” Alex showed her with his finger that part of the path Max’s pencil had drawn in: it worked as a proper maze.

“We’d need the originals, as you say: Will has photographed only one side. But what a discovery from Max!” Lucy shook her head, astonished. “Clever boy. Like his dad…” She was impressed, and proud of them both. “I never considered the details of these pictures on the back. Look at the boat here. Doesn’t it remind you…?” She didn’t have to finish the question. She saw that Alex had also recognized the barge they’d seen from the cruise boat. She almost caressed the trail that included part of a river. “And this is someone walking in a labyrinth. It makes me shiver, Alex.”

He nodded absently; and she saw his mind whirling—assembling, so she believed, a collage of images. She reframed the question she’d asked earlier. “We’ve got this far. Can we, in all honesty, just walk away from it? You and I found the papers after they’d spent hundreds of years in the earth. Will found the second group. I can’t shake the conviction that they were meant for us; and for some reason to include even me.” She saw his hesitation. “At least take a look at the enlarged prints. There are some fascinating conundrums to amuse your mathematical mind.” She started to go, but then turned to him, her face suddenly curious. “Alex, on what day did the music die?”

He looked at her with amazement. “The song?”

Her eyes blinked yes; and he thought aloud for her.

“And the event? The plane crash?”

She smiled at him again.

“February?”

“Mm,” she nodded, pleased. “Enjoy your reading.” And she brushed his lips and slipped away before her resolve left her.

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