Unknown 9 by Layton Green (each kindness read aloud txt) 📕

Her eyes locked on to that last name, and she scanned the description.

The Temple of Literature was Vietnam’s first national university . . . built during the Ly Thanh Tong dynasty to honor Confucius . . . a historical monument dedicated to sages and scholars. . . retains the original architectural style . . . divided into five courtyards of great significance.

A frisson of excitement swept through her. Was it possible the Star Phone image was symbolic not of actual doorways, but of a passage through the entrances to five courtyards?

Most compelling of all, she thought as she hurried to the elevator, was the name of the historical site itself.

Because what is a temple to literature if not a library?

As soon as she entered their room, Andie gushed to Cal about her find. Though she had seen nothing about a “cracked” door, everything else felt right. Cal was just as thrilled, but a quick Google search revealed the site did not open until 8 a.m. the next day. Unlike the mausoleum in Alexandria, the Temple of Literature was right in the middle of Hanoi, too risky to break into.

The Ascendants would have another twelve hours to figure it out themselves and catch up. Andie still had to retrieve the Star Phone from them, but if she dwelled on that fact, she might not have the guts to continue.

Their hotel room was decorated with framed photos of old Hanoi, and she realized there was only a queen-size bed, with a bamboo screen separating the marble-accented bathroom from the living space.

“I asked for two beds,” Cal said sheepishly. “I’ll take the floor. I’ve slept on worse.”

Too weary and hungry to care about the lack of privacy, Andie took a long shower and let the water massage her. Night had fallen by the time she finished. As she dressed and approached their eighth-floor window overlooking the street, she saw a mass of people and stalls congregated a block away, stretching as far down the street as she could see.

“Look at all those people.”

“The night market,” Cal said, joining her at the window. “If it’s anything like the one in Bangkok, you’ll be able to buy anything you can imagine. I think we should go. We’re both starving, we can pick up a few clothes, and there’ll be plenty of tourists around. We can blend.”

“Anything you can imagine?” Andie said, still staring out the window.

“More or less, yeah. I don’t like that look. What are you thinking?”

She walked over to put on her shoes. “I have an idea.”

The night market heaved with people. Just as Cal had said, anything that could fit on a city street was for sale, including a smorgasbord of street food, everything from freshly made pho to coconut curry to fried tarantulas on a stick. Music blared from speakers in the stalls and from cell phones held by teenagers. The aromas ranged from nose-wrinkling to sensual, mouthwatering to repulsive. Andie could pick out basil and fish sauce, oiled leather and offal, lychee and grated ginger.

Plenty of sketchy characters were around—people of all types filled the streets—but the market was so crowded she and Cal did not feel threatened, as long as they stuck to the main drag. They bought another backpack to join the one Rajani had given them, filled both with clothes and supplies, and sat on plastic stools in an alley while they ate a pork-and-noodle dish called bun cha.

“Ready to go?” Cal asked.

She cringed as a bat swooped right by her face. “I want to stop by a cell phone vendor.”

“Burner phones for us both? Good idea.”

“I need three phones. And the most realistic sticker booth we can find.”

“Three? And a sticker—oh, I get it.” His expression turned somber, and he slowly exhaled. “You want to make a replica of the Star Phone.”

She gave a grim nod of assent.

“That’s clever,” he said. “And dangerous as hell, if we have to use it.”

They found what they needed at the market. Soon after returning to the hotel, Zawadi texted to say she was coming to Hanoi but wouldn’t arrive until the following night at the earliest.

“Are you going to tell her about the Temple of Literature?” Cal asked when he saw Andie staring down at the phone.

“Not until she arrives,” Andie said slowly. “On the outside chance someone’s watching.

“You’re planning on going to the temple without her, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think we can wait.”

“What if the Ascendants make an appearance?”

“Then we need to be there,” she said. “If our guess is right, we might not get another chance at this.”

“And what’s your plan if that happens, besides a phone swap?”

Andie bit her lip and didn’t respond.

After preparing for bed in silence, she insisted Cal sleep beside her instead of on the floor. They faced away from each other after the lights went out. Andie expected a clever quip about their proximity, something flirty to break the tension, but he fell asleep in seconds.

As exhausted as she was, Andie couldn’t seem to nod off. Instead she stared across the room and listened to the street sounds, her fear of the Ascendants settling in her chest like a bad case of heartburn that wouldn’t go away. She wondered where her mother was at that moment, and whether she was thinking about her daughter.

Cal rolled over. One of his arms fell on Andie’s side of the bed, his fingers brushing the top of her chest. She listened carefully for a moment, distrustful, but it appeared he was still asleep. Putting his arm around a girl in bed is probably a subconscious movement.

She had to admit the human touch felt good. Telling herself that Cal needed his sleep, she left his arm in place as she closed her eyes and drifted off, trying not to think what the morning might bring.

Buenos Aires, Argentina1977

Violet jacarandas and pink lapacho trees were in bloom, providing a riotous backdrop of color as Dr. Corwin navigated the