The Milestone Protocol by Ernest Dempsey (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

installed. I was the first person to go through it. There was a door in the back for the relics to be removed during the annual ceremony, but based on the dust collected on the container’s lid, I would say no one has been in that room since the last time the priests entered.”

“So, we can assert that the gemstone wasn’t stolen by the cult,” Sean suggested.

“Does that mean someone else took it, perhaps years or decades ago?” Tabitha offered.

“It’s possible it was stolen centuries ago,” Tommy added.

Sean leaned back and sipped on his water. “But how does that explain leaving the cylinder there?”

“Maybe the thieves didn’t want it to look like anything was missing. The longer time passes without someone noticing a theft, the less chance of catching the criminal.” Tabitha’s statement made sense, but she looked irritated. “I’m sorry, can we switch seats?” Her question was directed at Sean.

“No,” he said plainly. “I always keep the exits in my view.”

“I do the same,” Tabitha said with an approving grin.

“Same,” Adriana added.

“I couldn’t care less where I sit,” Tommy confessed. “I just want to know where the gem is we were supposed to find.”

“Perhaps there is more to it than meets the eye,” Sean said. “May I?”

He held out his hand, and Tommy passed the cylinder to him.

Sean inspected the object, particularly the tip with the tiny holes and slots cut into it. He was about to bring up the oddity when the waitress returned with a huge tray full of food.

She set the dishes down in front of the group, in the center of the table where the bowls and platters could be shared.

“Will you need anything else?” the girl asked, catching herself staring into Sean’s wolflike eyes.

“No, thank you. This looks great.” He smiled her away, and she retreated back into the kitchen.

The answer to the question had to wait while the group dove into the feast. Along with the vegetable shchi and mushroom pies, plates of pierogies, bliny cakes similar to crêpes, kasha, and a bowl of red cabbage finished out the meal’s offerings.

Everyone sampled the fair in relative silence, except for the occasional satisfied sigh or moan at the taste of a new dish.

When they were done with the meal, there was very little left on the plates or in the bowls except a residue of sauces.

Sean immediately resumed his inspection of the cylinder as the waitress returned to collect the dishes and leave the check.

“There is something funny about the tip,” Sean drawled, holding the shaft close to his face. He narrowed his eyelids, but that wasn’t enough. The windows in the place were blinded and covered with curtains, forcing the restaurant to rely on little candles burning in the center of the tables or the fake sconces flickering along the walls.

Ambiance was everything, Sean thought dryly, although he’d appreciated the food.

He cocked his head to the side and raised the tube up to inspect the bottom. As he did, Sean realized that he could see through the needle-thin holes and slits at the other end, though they were too tiny to make out any details on the other side.

“Still checking to see if it’s in there?” Tommy joked as he thumbed enough euros down on the table next to the check to cover the bill and a little extra.

Tabitha laughed.

Sean was glad the tension between the two had eased, but he ignored Tommy’s comment.

“What is it?” Adriana asked.

Holding back the answer, Sean pressed his lips together and removed the phone from his pocket. He kept the device low around his lap and turned on the flashlight. Before it sprayed bright light all over the room, Sean covered it with the tube, sealing the light with the hole at one end.

He raised the device, keeping the shaft over the light, and set the phone down on the table.

The other three nearly fell out of their seats. Even Adriana, who was rarely surprised or shocked by anything, was taken aback by the sight.

The bright light from Sean’s phone pierced the minuscule holes at the top of the shaft. Four pairs of eyes darted up to behold the strange sight.

There, on the ceiling over the table, was a message shining in Russian.

“What does it say?” Tommy asked.

Sean held back for several heartbeats. “Salvation and doom lie with God’s artist.”

34

Russia

“What?” Tabitha huffed. Her head bobbed with the question.

“Salvation and doom lie with God’s artist,” Sean repeated.

“Okay,” Tommy said, holding up his hand to stop everyone. “Can we just pause for two seconds to acknowledge how cool this thing is?” He stared at the metal tube with renewed excitement. “I mean, this has been in that reliquary for over six hundred years. We are probably the first people since Saint Alexius himself to actually see this writing.”

Everyone stared at Tommy for a long five seconds.

“Yes,” Sean said. “It is cool. Now the question is, what does that mean?”

“And who is the artist?” Adriana wondered. She picked one foot up and wedged it onto the seat beneath her, stretched one arm across the back of the bench seat, and bit her other thumbnail as she considered the question.

Tommy sighed. “Fine. The salvation and doom prove our theory about why Alexius didn’t destroy the gem. He knew the potential for the cataclysm engine, both for good and evil.”

“Correct,” Sean said.

“What about the artist part of it?” Tabitha asked again. “How are we supposed to know that one?”

Silence descended over the table, interrupted intermittently by the clanking of dishes or pans, or muted conversation from the four other patrons in the place.

Sean paid close attention to them, making sure they weren’t listening in too closely. He was still on alert, constantly watching for trouble to walk through the door.

“It would have to be someone the metropolitan knew, or perhaps admired,” Adriana mused. Her eyes stared vacantly past Tommy, just over his shoulder.

“Do you know who that might have been?” Tommy asked, a tad uncomfortable at the blank gaze in