Contents

The Gutenberg Rubric

Two

A LIGHT SHONE in Keith’s eyes. Something held them open and he couldn’t block out the light. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. In fact, there was no sound anywhere. When the light went out, he was alone in silent darkness. He must have slept, but there was no sensation of sleeping.

The light came on. How long had it been? He couldn’t see anything. It was just light. He heard muffled noises as if he had cotton stuffed in his ears. The noises—voices, he thought—were too remote to understand. He wondered briefly if he had been abducted by aliens. That is what people said. You wake up but can’t move or see or hear. It would make a great story if he had been abducted. He would tell Maddie. A prickling sensation all over his body, like he was being stuck by pins, became more intense. Suddenly sharp pains stabbed at his face and chest. In a burst of awareness, he remembered being knocked down by the blast and the million shards of glass coming toward him. He could feel them hitting his body and spasmed. There was more urgency in the noises. Then the light and sound faded.

He could hear a soft rustle punctuated by beeps from a machine. Hospital, he thought. The bitter smell of iodine filled his nose. He opened his eyes. Eye. One seemed glued shut. The soft light seemed farther away and he registered vague shapes. He needed his glasses. A shadow moved nearby and a blurry figure approach his bed.

“Maddie,” he croaked. He could scarcely hear himself. It wasn’t Maddie, but he could almost focus on the face, one feature at a time, as it leaned near. The lips moved and he strained to hear through the feeling of cotton in his ears. Doctor. The man came into his focal range. He heard a whisper of sound.

“Welcome back, Dr. Drucker. You’ve had quite a time of it. You may not be able to hear well right now, but don’t let that worry you. Your hearing is returning gradually. It may take a while.”

“Maddie,” Keith repeated.

“The woman who comes and sits by your bed all day?” the doctor said. “I’m sure she’ll be back in the morning.” He reached up to adjust the I.V. drip. “We’re giving you liquids and nourishment intravenously, and keeping you on painkillers to help you rest. The best thing you can do right now is sleep.” In seconds, the darkness returned.

There was a faraway murmur that he slowly realized was voices. He turned his head toward the sound and opened the eye that he could. Only Maddie could have that color hair, even though he couldn’t see her clearly. She was standing in the doorway talking to a man who, though not in focus, had the light hair and bronzed skin of someone who spent too much time in a tanning booth. The man gestured at him. Maddie turned toward Keith and the man walked away.

“Keith! You’re awake!” Maddie exclaimed rushing toward him. She’s using her library voice, he thought. He no more than thought it than it seemed insanely funny. The sound that came out when he laughed, though, was more like he was choking.

“Do you need something?” she asked, drawing closer. “I’ll call the doctor.” Her voice became louder as she got nearer and Keith remembered the doctor saying his hearing would improve.

“Maddie. You’re okay,” he managed to say. He was overwhelmed. A tear stung his right cheek. He had dreamed in this most recent sleep; books exploded around Maddie and as the two of them tried to gather up all the pages, she turned into notes from a loose-leaf binder that scattered in the wind. Seeing her was such a relief he couldn’t care about his own injuries. He was so afraid he had lost her.

“I’m fine,” Maddie said as she leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips. He winced involuntarily. “I don’t know how to touch you; you’ve got so many little cuts.”

“What happened?” he pointed at a nearby water glass with the hand that wasn’t connected to a tube and saw that even this hand was bandaged.

“Someone blew up the front of the library,” Maddie said as she held the straw to his lips. It hurt a little to suck, but the liquid felt good once it was in his mouth.

“You’re okay?” he said, his voice gaining some clarity with the moisture in his mouth.

“It would take a lot more than that to bring down The Whit,” she laughed. “I was stuck in the vault for six hours before they overrode the lock-down controls. I was frantic trying to get information about you. There was no smoke or it would have flooded the vault with inert gas. Remind me to find out how long the oxygen tanks will support a person if that happens.”

“You’re okay,” he repeated, reaching toward her.

She stroked his hair gently. Even that hurt a little, but it was worth it just to know she was touching him. “I’m okay and I’m babbling. I was so worried about you, I’ve been almost insane. You could have been killed.”

“You were in there.”

“My hero,” she said. “Oh God, Keith, I think I’m falling in love with you.” It was the first time she had said it aloud and he let the feeling wash over him. He knew he was in love.

“Okay.”

“Yes,” Maddie affirmed. “Very okay.”

“How long?” he asked. “What day is it?”

“It’s Monday,” Maddie said. “Three days.”

“We should be in Jamaica,” Keith sighed.

Maddie was already in the chair by his bed when he awoke the next day. His eye felt less filmy, but he still didn’t have his glasses to see clearly. The left eye was still bandaged. A larger shard of flying glass had broken that lens of his glasses and pierced the cornea. He would find out today if it was healing. The right lens had actually protected the other eye. He was very lucky, they told him. If he had been in the atrium where the large chunks of glass had fallen, he would certainly have been killed. As it was, he had been hit by the tiny bits of glass that had flown farthest, many of which pierced his clothing and cut his face. The doctors had gone over every inch of his body and done MRI scans to be sure they had removed all the fragments.

The morning and the eye exam passed slowly, but Keith was able to engage more fully. Maddie brought his spare glasses from his apartment and he forced them over the bandages so he could see clearly out of his one good eye. The wounds would itch as they healed, the doctor said, but he was no longer in any serious danger. The eye would take a week or two to heal enough to check his vision thoroughly as the glass had pierced the vitreous humor. In most instances that type of injury healed, but he would need a new corrective prescription. He was able to hear better, but had to concentrate fully to catch everything. Maddie helped bathe his face and it was worth the discomfort to have her kiss his lips once the iodine was completely washed away.

He looked around his hospital room. It was large and private. In fact, he’d almost call it comfortable if it weren’t for his injuries. He was pretty sure his meager health insurance wouldn’t cover this kind of treatment and had to wonder why he wasn’t in a dormitory with half a dozen old men waiting to die.

“I’ve got to get out of here before it bankrupts me,” he said. “Unless the University is paying for my stay?” he added hopefully.

“Actually,” Maddie hesitated. “Derek’s covered all the expenses.”

“Who is Derek?” Keith asked.

“He was here when you woke up yesterday, but he didn’t stay around long enough to be introduced,” Maddie said.

“So who is he?”

“Derek Zayne, wealthy American playboy and benefactor to those in need,” she said lightly.

“Your brother?”

“No, unfortunately,” Maddie sighed. “He’s my ex. He’s a jerk, but a very wealthy jerk who enjoys spreading it around. Somehow he always shows up when I’m… Well, he thinks his money will…” Keith looked at Maddie with a growing unease. He knew she had been married once, but didn’t know the ex was still in the picture.

“Your ex is paying for my hospital stay?” he asked, in amazement. “All the more reason to get out of here. What does he expect you to do because he helped me?”

“There’s nothing to worry about on that account,” Maddie said, seeing the expression on Keith’s face. “I divorced Derek over irreconcilable differences, and she’s still around.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, not completely sure that he wanted to know, but feeling compelled to find out.

“It was either divorce him or kill him,” Maddie said. “He was a rich, younger man, my brother’s age, who swept me off my feet with his charm, wit, and generosity. It wasn’t until after we were married that I discovered he possessed two traits that I couldn’t tolerate.”

“Those were?”

“In spite of his generosity, he is possessive. He couldn’t understand that I could spend a day in a library just being with books, and I couldn’t make myself be interested in the computers that were the most important thing to him,” Maddie said.

“And the other?”

“He likes other women.” Keith cringed. It served the guy right to lose Maddie then.

“I still don’t like the idea of him paying for my hospital stay. I don’t need a penthouse suite,” he stated as he sat upright. That was a task that was still exhausting. Maddie moved to support him. Her arm around his back felt wonderful. It was bruised but not cut. The glass had all hit him from the front. He turned toward her slightly and the support turned to an embrace as they kissed passionately, ignoring his raw lips.

In the midst of this a nurse entered the room and coughed politely to announce her presence.

“You have a visitor, Mr. Drucker,” she said. “I mean another visitor.” Keith turned to see a dark-haired, mustachioed man materialize from behind the nurse. He strode across the room with authority and nodded to Keith without offering to shake hands.

“Keith Drucker?” the man said. “I am Special Agent Fry of Homeland Security.” He produced a badge to identify himself.

“Pleased to meet you,” Keith said. Maddie arranged pillows behind him so he could continue to sit up and look at the Agent more easily.

“And you are Mrs. Drucker?” the agent turned to Maddie.

“Oh. No. I’m not!” Maddie said, a little too emphatically. She was flustered by the assumption. “I’m Madeline Zayne. We’re colleagues,” she said recovering herself. Keith could not help but notice she had turned bright red. He chuckled to himself.

“Oh, yes,” the agent said. “The librarian who was stuck on the sixth floor. Sorry. I’m still getting up to speed. They thought this was some kind of student protest at first but nothing turned up, so the police called the Feds and the Feds called other Feds and eventually somebody called me.”

“I always wondered how that worked,” Keith mumbled.

“Oh, if you’d been killed we would have been called in much sooner, but injury and property damage don’t often get kicked up the ladder,” Fry said.

“What gives us the honor?” Keith asked.

Agent Fry ignored the sarcastic question. “I’ve been talking to people for the past couple of days, but the hospital kept putting me off. They say you are pretty coherent now. Is that so?” he asked.

“I guess so,” Keith said. “They’ve still got me on painkillers with a warning not to operate heavy equipment or sign any contracts, but I’m not taking the heavy sleep drugs they had me on. Of course, I’ll answer any questions about this that I can.”

“I’m noting that medication may affect your memory or recall of details,” Fry said as he wrote in his notebook. “That way if a moment of clarity strikes you in the future you will be able to change your statement without repercussion.”

“Is this a deposition?”

“No, just questions,” Fry answered. “But the government frowns on inaccurate information. It’s for both of our protection.” Keith looked at the agent. It must have been hard for him to get a job in Homeland Security with so much suspicion of anyone who looked vaguely Arab, he thought. He’d known a colleague from Jordan who’d been detained for hours at an airport on suspicions that were never really made clear. Maybe Homeland Security was a little more diligent about examining the reports of agents of Middle Eastern descent.

“You were the most seriously injured person in the attack, though the security guard broke an arm and had a concussion. I stopped to see him earlier and have to say he wasn’t getting the same kind of care that you were when I came in,” Fry said, smiling slightly. He was obviously trying his best to put them at ease, but Maddie blushed again.

“Perhaps you could start by explaining your relationship?” Agent Fry said.

“We’re colleagues, and friends,” Keith rescued Maddie. “Dating,” he continued when Agent Fry raised an eyebrow.

“You were working together just before the blast?”

“In the same area of the library,” Maddie said. “I was still putting things in the vault when Keith left.”

“I read that in your statement to the police. Why didn’t you wait and leave together?” he asked Keith.

“We haven’t exactly told anyone at the library that we’re dating,” Keith explained. “We always leave separately.”

“Fair enough. I understand how office romances can become a subject of gossip.” Agent Fry jotted a note and then returned his attention to Keith. “So, no one knows that you are dating and we can’t write this off to a fit of jealousy?”

“I don’t think so,” Keith said. He glanced at Maddie and thought of her mysterious ex. She was vigorously shaking her head.

“Who would want to kill you then?” the agent asked. Keith was startled into momentary confusion. Fry abruptly switched from the office romance tact and was now dead serious. He waited for a reply.

“No one,” Keith answered, nonplussed. “Why would anyone want to kill me?”

“Exactly,” said the agent. “Who are your enemies?”

“Agent Fry, I examine and authenticate old books for a living. There are only a few dozen people in the world who even care. Certainly there is no one who would consider my work controversial unless I’ve proven a valuable family heirloom to be a fraud someplace along the line. Most of my work is with libraries and museums. There aren’t many private collectors who would get into the picture unless they are selling or donating to a library.”

“Like the work you are doing now?” Agent Fry asked.

“Not even that,” Keith said. “The collection in The Whit was a bequest to the University. I’m here to put a value on it, yes, but it won’t affect the family one way or another. The bequest was made with no strings and no family claims.”

“What about your classes?”

“As a guest lecturer, I have one class that meets three times a week,” Keith explained. “It is one of a half-dozen that fulfill the University’s required Fine Arts elective credit. Most of my 200 students figure it is an easy way to improve their grade point average.”

“I spoke to your teaching assistant, so I’m aware of the subject matter. Are you always confrontational in your classes?” Fry pressed. Keith didn’t comprehend what the agent was talking about. “Your assistant mentioned a question about the ethics of authenticating documents that might contradict religious teachings.” Keith remembered the conversation and nodded.

“I think my response was that I only deal with the authenticity of the document, not with the value of its content,” Keith said.

“That’s all?”

“It was a pretty minor question and near the end of class.”

“Miss Baker quoted you somewhat differently,” Fry responded. Looking at his notes, he read, “Dr. Drucker responded by saying that the mythology of one religion was pretty much the same as any other.”

“That sounds like something I would say,” Keith chuckled. “These kids take themselves so seriously they can’t approach artifacts objectively. They need to get past individual beliefs to understand the anthropology of printing.”

“And that statement doesn’t sound inflammatory to you?” Agent Fry asked.

“Not enough to merit bombing a library. And certainly there would be easier ways to kill me.” Keith shook his head. It was absurd. The agent scratched his head.

“Tell me exactly what you remember,” Agent Fry instructed Keith.

“I was hurrying to the exit before Jackson—the security guard—locked the door. He wanted to know if we’d be working over the holiday and I said no. I left. About 30 feet from the library, just before I crossed the reflecting pool I felt an explosion. I turned and started back. Then there was a second explosion, closer. It knocked me to the ground and I lost consciousness,” Keith said. He had known he would have to tell the story sooner or later, but even in its abbreviated form it brought back the shock and pain in a flood.

“You knew it was an explosion?”

“No. Not at first. I think I filled that detail in from what I’ve heard.”

“Why did you turn to go back?”

“The books… Maddie was still in there,” Keith said. He realized it sounded ridiculous that he had thought of the books in the library.

“Did you see anyone else?”

“No. Yes. There was a student who checked out a bunch of books right before I left. Jackson commented that her boyfriend didn’t look too happy as they left and I said it looked like she was planning to spend the break reading. They were just on the other side of the reflecting pool when the explosion or whatever went off.” Fry opened a brown envelope and produced a grainy black and white photograph. The face of the woman was hidden under the bill of a baseball cap, but the long, light hair was unmistakable.

“Recognize her?” Fry asked.

“Not really,” Keith said. “I mean that’s the woman I saw leave the library ahead of me, but I never got a look at her face. She walked out and a boy met her in the atrium. I only saw his back. He’s shorter than her and thin. They were a few yards ahead of me. They paused to juggle the books as she dug for her car keys, but when the boom hit I turned away from them, so I don’t know what happened to them then.”

“You saw car keys?”

“They were a good 50 feet away, so I can’t swear it was car keys. What else do you dig in your purse for as you are walking toward the parking lot?” Keith paused, suddenly getting the implication of the action. “You don’t think…” Fry waved off the partial question.

“A group, or individual, has anonymously and indirectly claimed responsibility for the blast,” the agent said bluntly. “It’s no one that’s been on our radar before and I don’t think they formed just to attack you, but you may have inadvertently given them a flashpoint. A note was posted on several Internet forums along with a poor digital photo—probably from a cell phone—of the library just moments after the explosion. But the picture is not from the same perspective as the couple you describe. There had to be another person there.” He produced a second photo. It showed the dust still rising from the library atrium. Keith shook his head.

“I didn’t see anyone else.”

The Agent handed Maddie a page from the envelope and she held it in front of Keith so he could read it. As they examined the note, Fry absently twisted the ring on his finger. Keith caught the movement, but was too intrigued by the note to pay attention to the agent.

Not all words are equal. There is only one true Tree of Knowledge guarded by holy angels. No key will unlock its secret for the unworthy. Those who seek truth within the chamber of lies face destruction.

Keith kept his expression carefully neutral as he looked up at Agent Fry.

“This sounds vaguely like a threat against all libraries,” Keith said.

“Yes,” said the agent. “It wouldn’t take too many explosions like this to get people to start avoiding libraries.”

“You can track things like this, right?” Maddie asked, handing back the note. “Find out who sent it?”

“The messages were posted from at least a dozen different public access computers around the world. Mostly—no doubt with a sense of irony—in libraries,” remarked Agent Fry, looking at her intently.

“They have people in a dozen different cities?” Maddie exclaimed.

“Each one with a major library in it,” Fry affirmed. “At this time we don’t have any good leads other than to stake out the libraries. It could be a new extreme religious splinter group, but the message doesn’t mention a specific religion.”

“The Tree of Knowledge figures prominently in a number of religious mythologies, and in a number of different forms,” Keith said quietly. His mind had already jumped back to the letter fragment he found in the monastery catalog, but he didn’t want to mention that. No one else could possibly know about it.

“You don’t think it refers to the Garden of Eden?” the agent asked.

“That is the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil,” Keith responded. “The Tree of Knowledge is often a symbol representing revelation as opposed to the kind of knowledge that comes from education and study.”

Fry nodded and snapped his notepad shut and shoved it in a pocket. “I appreciate your help.” He handed each a business card. “Offhand, I’d say you should be careful. It’s not impossible that you could be a target rather than an accidental casualty. If you think of anything that might help, please give me a call. Especially if you come up with a possible next target before it gets blown up. Get well soon, Mr. Drucker. Ms. Zayne,” he concluded nodding to her. Then he turned and left the room. They could hear the fading sound of his footsteps.

“Wow!” Maddie said into the silence that descended on the room in the agent’s absence.

Keith looked at her pensively through his good eye. “Wow indeed. Can you still get into The Whit?” he asked, startling Maddie.

“Yes. Access is restricted, but I have clearance to do maintenance and check systems,” Maddie said. “Why?”

“I need you to check out a book before we leave.” He threw his bedclothes off and struggled upright.

“Wait. Leave?” Maddie exclaimed.

“I have to get out of here,” Keith said. “Get me my clothes, will you please?”

“Keith, you can’t just get up and leave a hospital,” Maddie said. “Let me call the nurse.”

“I don’t think we’re safe here,” Keith said. “I know this sounds insane, but I’m thinking clearly. We need to go see a printer.”

“Inkjet or laser?” Maddie wasn’t moving. Keith was getting desperate, but he didn’t dare to let emotion take control. He needed Maddie to believe him.

“Please.” He looked at her pleadingly. “I’ll check out properly. If I tell them you will take care of me, there shouldn’t be a problem. I just have to ask you to trust me. And give me my clothes.” Maddie hesitated a moment longer then turned away. Keith was afraid he had lost, but she walked to his closet and pulled out a tattered jacket and pair of pants.

“I don’t think you want to put on what you wore in,” Maddie said. “There’s probably still glass stuck in the shreds.”

“I need something.”

“I figured you would eventually, so I picked up your suitcase at the apartment when I got your glasses. You were all packed for a trip, remember?” Maddie asked. She hung the clothes and retrieved Keith’s suitcase. He noted that his computer case was also there.

“I’d rather be on that beach with you than sitting here,” he said.

“You can’t think we’re going to Jamaica now,” Maddie stated flatly. “You’re hardly fit.”

“No,” Keith responded. “But I really want you to come with me, if you will.”

“I’m certainly not letting you out of my sight,” she said. “Not now.”

Comments

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