Jamie Brodie 02 - Hoarded to Death

storage areas, and pressed flat like this."
    "So it is vellum."
    "Oh, yes. It is most definitely vellum. And I do not believe that it has been artificially aged. I don't know that this is from the Book of Kells, but whatever it is, it is very old. And it is done in the same style as the Book of Kells, the insular majuscule, which was not in widespread use. I think there is a strong chance that this is the real thing."
    Holy shit . "Where should I keep it?"
    "Why not keep it here? Our temperature and humidity are controlled here. More so than a safe deposit box in a bank, say. We have a locked area that only I and my staff can open. It will be safe in there."
    My reluctance must have shown on my face. Conrad said, "I understand your desire to keep it safe yourself. Particularly after your - um - incident? But it is under heavy security here. Access is limited to this room, and to this area of the building, and the building is protected by the campus police. It's one of the safest places it could be."
    I nodded. "I see your point. No one's ever broken in here, have they?"
    "No. And since only you and I will know it's here, no one will even know to break in here."
    "Okay." I sighed. "Is there a way to make a copy of it?"
    Conrad shook his head. "Exposing it to the light of the copier could be slightly damaging. Eventually it will have to be examined by the curator of the Book of Kells itself."
    "Yeah. He would be the ultimate expert, wouldn't he?"
    "Yes. Others might have informed opinions, but the curator would be the...have the most informed opinion, shall we say."
    "Do you know anyone who knows him?"
    "Personally? I don't believe so. But I can make contact. The information is probably on their website."
    I watched Conrad lock the book in the vault area. We left the cage, took off our masks, and went back to Conrad's office. Conrad clicked to open the web browser on his computer and found the Book of Kells website. Under "Contact Us," there was a telephone number and an email address. He nodded in satisfaction, then turned to me. "I will call them tomorrow." He looked at his watch. "It is already 5:30 pm in Dublin, and I doubt that I will find anyone there at this time. I'll come in early tomorrow morning to make the call." He smiled at me. "You may join me, if you like."
    "Oh, I like. I definitely like." I grinned. "What time are you thinking about?"
    "If we call at 7:30 am, it will be 3:30 pm there. That should suffice. Can you be here that early?"
    "I'd be here even if you were going to call at two in the morning."
    He laughed. "Fortunately, that won't be necessary." He reached out to shake my hand. We were officially co-conspirators. "I'll see you in the morning."
    While I ate lunch I studied my copy of the torn manuscript page, trying to translate the words. I wasn't getting very far. I took the page with me to reference, in case we had a lull and I was able to work on it some more. But there was no lull; we were busy. At 1:30, Clinton appeared. He had to wait a few minutes. Finally we got the three students ahead of him squared away, and he approached the desk.
    "Hi, Clinton."
    He regarded us gravely. "The word of the day is abet ." He bowed, but he didn't walk away.
    Liz and I looked at each other, then back at Clinton. It was the first time he'd given us a fairly simple word. And the first time he hadn't immediately turned and left after his bow.
    To our utter shock, he moved a step closer to the desk, ducked his head down a bit, and spoke again. "To provide assistance."
    Our mouths were hanging open. I nodded slowly. Clinton took another step, lowered his head a bit more, and looked directly at me. "I can provide assistance in finding the answers you seek." And he nodded at the copy of the manuscript page that I'd been studying.
    "Okay." I was stunned, but completely intrigued. "Can you meet me back here at 3:00?"
    "I can and will." And with that, Clinton turned and walked away.
    Liz and I looked at each other. Liz finally came to her senses. " What? "
    I shook my head. "I guess I'll find out."
    At 3:00, Clinton returned. We walked in silence up to my office. Liz was dying to join us, but had to go to a meeting. I unlocked my office door and ushered Clinton in. "Please. Sit."
    "Thank you." Clinton looked around with interest. "Your office is aesthetically pleasing."
    "Thank you. I like it." I sat behind my desk and laid the copied page on the desk between us. "What do you know about this?"
    Clinton regarded