The Book of Air and Shadows

notice, if you’re someone who always dresses in black and has brown hair. You should put them on.”
    She grumbled but did as he asked, donning a lilac sweater, tight yellow jeans, an oversize white parka with a fake fur collar, and fleece-lined boots.
    “This all fits,” she said. “I’m amazed. What’ve you got there?”
    “Makeup. Turn this way and hold still.”
    As the car sped down the motorway, he painted on foundation, blusher, a heavy plum-colored eye treatment, and dark scarlet lip gloss. He showed her what she looked like in the little mirror of the compact he’d bought.
    “Hey, sailor, lookin’ for some action?” she asked the mirror. “Crosetti, how the hell did you learn to do this?”
    “I have three older sisters and I worked on lots of very, very low-budget movies,” said Crosetti. “And don’t thank me. Mishkin gave me an American Express card before we left.”
    “And where are we going on Mishkin’s American Express card?”
    Crosetti’s eyes flicked to the driver.
    “Casablanca. We’re going to Casablanca-for the waters. I have a standing invitation. We should be safe there until things settle down. We can study the Bracegirdle ciphers and figure out where they lead us, if anywhere.”
    “What if they have people at the airport?”
    “That’s extremely unlikely. We’re not running from the government or Goldfinger. This is a bunch of local gangsters. Right now they’re probably breaking into our room, noticing the pile of clothes and books and realizing how they were scammed. They’ll know we’re going to the airport because they saw me get into an airport limo. They’ll chase us, but we should be okay.”
    She exhaled and leaned back on the soft leather, closing her eyes. He took her hand, which was warm and damp, like a child’s, and he too closed his eyes as they drove south.
    T HE S IXTH C IPHERED L ETTER (F RAGMENT 4)
    drawes out from his presse the fayre copy, saying you shal burn this & I goe to do it drawing neare the flames but at last could not, I know not why, it was to me neare to killing a babe; for I loved him & saw he loved it much. But this I had not in my harte to say in wordes; instead I sayde upon second thought perhaps we should keep it safe as evidence of this vile plot. Now he looketh longe at the fyre, in scilence, drinkinge: then saies he, there is a thought my Dick, a happy thought. We will not burn her, nore uze her to stop draughts or start fyres, but she shal drowne; as who knowes what may rise from water in a comeing tyme when men may see these thynges with a new eie. Then he laughs & saies I trow that this poor unheard play will be all of Will that’s heard of an age from nowe & that a mere mocke. Nay, saies I, for the mob doth flock to thy plaies & it is oute of question thou’rt best for comedies. At this he doth pull a face as if he bit upon a rotten fish & he saies, Codso, how thou dost prattle, Dick. What’s a play! New a’ Tuesday & sennight later they cry have you not some-thynge else, we have hearde this before. Tis a penny-tuppence businesse withal, emplaced curiouslie betwixt the bawds and the bears, of no consequence a thynge of ayre and shadowes. Nay, if a man would live after his bones are in the earth he must make weightier stuff out of his braines, epic poesie or histories, or from his loines make sonnes. I have no histories & of epics onlie two, and those slight ones. Had I landes & wealth or learning I might have been another Sydney, a better Spenser, but from my youth I must earne, earne, & a pen can draw readie money only out of yon wooden O. And my son is dead.
    We spake no more to our purpose that night. Later, wee left for Warwickeshire & a hard going we hadde, it being winter & all myres, but arrived in Stratford 18 th Febry & took us to a certayne place & hid safe the booke of that playe. Where it is have I writ down in a cypher knowne but to me and Mr W.S. It is not this cipher my lord, but a new one I have devized with Mr W.S. for he sayde hide what I have writ with my writing and wrote me out the key on the instant & this direction is kept by me all ways, and anie man who hath it & hath the key & hath the scille to uze my distance rule may find that place where it resteth.
    My Lord, if you have need of this playe of Mary of Scotland but send word, as I aime to submit to youre desyres in everie thynge. I am yr. Lordship’s most humble & obdt. servt.
    Richard Bracegirdle
    London, 22 nd Februarie 1611

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