The Magic Circle by Katherine Neville (13 inch ebook reader .TXT) 📗

so important, Ariel, not to let this fall into the wrong hands. It’s more important than we are—more important than your life or mine—”

“Pardon me?” I said. “Have you gone completely bonkers? What are you trying to tell me? I should put my life on the line for something I’ve never even seen? For something I don’t even want to know about?”

“It is part of you, and you are part of it,” said Sam, for the first time becoming testy. “And although I am very, very sorry I involved you in this, Ariel, what has been done cannot be undone. You are the only one who can find this parcel—and I’m telling you that you must. If you fail, the lives at stake won’t just be ours, I assure you.”

I had no idea what to do. I just wanted it all to go away. I wanted to hide under the bed and suck my thumb. But I tried to pull myself together.

“Okay, let’s start from scratch. What did this parcel look like?” I asked Sam.

He seemed to be trying to focus his own thoughts. His words were brittle. “It was about the size of a couple of reams of paper,” he said.

“Wow, that’s great! There was nothing like that in my mailbox.” I knew, because I’d been holding all my mail in one hand when I’d started drowning in snow, and I was able to toss everything up on the road as I sank. “There’s only one explanation,” I told Sam. “The parcel hasn’t arrived yet.”

“That gives us some kind of reprieve, but not for long,” said Sam gloomily. “It may come today, and you’re not at home. But very likely they are—or at least they’ll be keeping an eye on the house.”

I longed to know who “they” were, but I wanted to get the basics down first.

“I could stop the mail now, today—” I began, but Sam interrupted.

“Too suspicious. Then they’d know it was coming by post. As I said, it’s my opinion they won’t touch you until they’re positive you have the parcel—or they have it themselves, or they know for sure how it’s going to arrive—so for the moment you’re okay. I suggest you go home at the normal time and check the mail casually, the way you usually would. I’ll try to get a message to you somehow. But to be on the safe side, I’ll phone you here again tomorrow, at the same time.”

“Roger,” I said. “But if you need to reach me quicker, my computer address is ABehn@Nukesite. You can encrypt the message any way you want. Just give me a clue, in another message, what it might be, okay? And, Sam? Uncle Laf is flying in this weekend. I’m going to meet him at the Sun Valley Lodge. He said he was going to tell me the history of … my inheritance.”

“That should be extremely interesting, coming from Laf. Take good notes,” Sam said. “My father was always pretty closemouthed about family history, same as yours was. Then too, if you’re staying at the Lodge, maybe we can shake your watchers and meet up on the mountain. We both know it like our palms.”

“That’s a great idea. I’m afraid my roommate and my cat are coming too,” I told him, “but no matter what, we’ll figure a way. Assuming we live that long. God, Sam, I’m happy you’re—um, around.” I seemed unable to yank myself from this umbilical connection of sound, though I saw the waitress approaching my table again, and knew I must.

“Likewise, hotshot,” said Sam. “I hope we’re both going to be around for a very, very long time. And again, sweetheart—please forgive me. I had to do things this way.”

“Time will tell,” I told him.

I just prayed there’d be enough of it left for both of us. At least enough to get our hands on Pandora’s deadly files.

Olivier had to work late to catch up enough to take off for a weekend of skiing, so I dropped by the grocery store to pick up a steak and fixings for Jason’s and my dinner. It was dark by the time I got home, but the moon was out amid drifting clouds, and enough snow had blown off that I could almost make out the drive. I got out and threw some salt and gravel on the rest. Then I pulled my car in and let Jason out into the dappled darkness to check out the snow.

After putting away the groceries I hiked up the drive as casually as possible to check my mailbox. I could hear Sam’s voice in my mind telling me to behave normally, though my heart was thudding. I mindlessly watched Jason jumping around on the crusted snow still covering the sloping lawn. I was praying to find it waiting up there—no matter what dire consequences might result—just to put an end to the clammy terror I felt whenever I thought of it.

As I pulled the mail from the box, scudding clouds suddenly effaced the moonlight, drowning the road in darkness. But just by feel, I knew there was no large package. My heart sank. This meant another suspense-riddled day ahead, and perhaps another and another after that, with my life and Sam’s both in danger until we could get our hands on that package. But now it would be a thousand times worse since I was no longer in ignorant bliss.

It was at that precise instant the flashbulb exploded in my brain: I knew what was wrong with this picture.

No one had taken that mysterious package of Sam’s. It had never been in my mailbox and never could be! My mailbox was smaller than even one ream of paper. And since the snows had prevented anyone reaching my door to leave a parcel, as I’d discovered myself only last night, it meant my postman had been unable to deliver it at all. When that happened, he’d have left a little yellow postal slip notifying me to