Necropolis

had put out the flames and they could get back in. The roof and part of the first floor had gone, but there were still two bedrooms that were habitable and, once the debris and the dead bodies had been cleared, the six of them would be able to camp out on the ground floor.
    The house would never be the same again. Matt looked at the charred wood and the soiled carpets, the broken windows and debris, and felt a mounting sadness. It had been such a beautiful place. Professor Chambers had lived there for much of her life, but then he and the others had come along and ruined it for her. In a few hours, they were supposed to be departing — on their way to London. And this was the mess that they were leaving behind.
    Tiso and some of the other Incas helped carry Professor Chambers into her study, which had also survived. Richard went with her, and Pedro followed. His healing powers were going to be needed more than ever, although it looked as if the professor might be too badly injured even for him. She needed medical help — and sure enough, a doctor arrived a few minutes later, urgently summoned from the nearby town. Matt, Scott, and Jamie stayed outside while she was examined. None of them said anything. They were exhausted. Just a few hours before, they had been laughing together, having dinner, and playing dice games. And now this!
    Matt glanced at Scott. "Where's the diary?" he asked. At that moment he almost wished they didn't have it. It didn't matter how valuable it was. It had so far brought them nothing but trouble.
    Scott took it out of his jacket pocket and handed it over. "I'm sorry," he said. His voice was low. "I didn't help you, back there. I didn't help Pedro. I wanted to. But…" His voice trailed off.
    "It doesn't matter," Matt said. "Everything happened so quickly. Anyway, Pedro's going to be okay."
    "What are they doing in there?" Jamie stared at the closed study door. His voice was angry. He kicked out at the sofa where Ramon had been sitting. The dead man had been carried outside, but there was still a great gash in the leather to remind them of what had happened. He turned to his brother. "You got it wrong," he said. "You said he was telling the truth."
    Scott blushed — with embarrassment or perhaps with anger. "I thought he was telling the truth," he said.
    "You may have been right," Matt interrupted. The two brothers seldom argued, and he was surprised to see them starting now. "We can't be sure that Ramon was responsible for what happened tonight. He told us he was in danger, and he was certainly right about that. They killed him. So maybe the rest of his story was true."
    "Can we use it?" Scott asked.
    Matt opened the diary. There was a page covered with diagrams. One of them looked a bit like a motorcar, though as if drawn by a child, and he remembered that Joseph of Cordoba — the mad monk
    — was supposed to have been able to predict the future. He flicked through it. Some of the pages had been marked with a modern pen. Someone had scribbled down words and figures, underlining certain areas of the text. Diego Salamanda? The diary had belonged to him, and he could have spent weeks deciphering it. It seemed that he had left some of his handiwork behind.
    Matt tried to make sense of some of the words, but the monk had written in ancient Spanish and his handwriting was almost illegible. "I can't read this language," he said. "And although Pedro can speak it, he can't read…"
    "Maybe the professor will be able to work it out," Jamie suggested.
    Professor Chambers. Matt remembered how Richard had looked when he had helped carry her in. The two of them had been inside for a long time.
    And then the door of the study opened. Pedro came out. He shook his head briefly and sat down, looking miserable. The doctor followed him. He muttered a few words to Richard, then left the house, doing his best to avoid eye contact. That was when Matt knew that it wasn't going to be good news.
    "Matt…" Richard called him over to the door. "She wants to see you," he said. His voice was hoarse.
    "She wants to say good-bye."
    "Is she…?" Matt realized what he'd just been told. "She can't be dying," he said. "What about Pedro?
    Can't he help her?"
    "It's too late for Pedro. There's nothing he can do." Richard sighed. "We've called an ambulance for her, and it's on its way now. But she's not going to make it. I'm sorry, Matt. I don't know how it happened, but she was stabbed. There's been a lot of internal