Page 73 of Booked for Theft

EIGHTEEN

Pleased I’d managed to make a difference, I returned to work.

Aware that the true goal of the politicians was to put literary felony into my hands along with notes tucked away within the sacred pages, I made it my goal to pretend I was nothing more than the perfect librarian. In turn, the visiting politicians played their part, opening their wallets for my branch and offering a ‘small’ gesture of their appreciation. Representative Allany of Nevada brought me a collection of ten books, earning a delighted gasp out of me as he stacked wrapped presents onto my desk.

I didn’t need any of the notes within his books to catch his point. The titles, nine books and one ancient poetry manuscript, were all literary felonies and whispered of revolt, rebellion, political defiance, and societal injustice.

The youngest of the books had been printed shortly before the calendar change, and the oldest of them had somehow endured through the centuries, penned sometime in the 1370s according to the note accompanying it.

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo.

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.

Animal Farm by George Orwell.

The Iron Heel by Jack London.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.

The Death of Artemio Cruz by Carlos Fuentes.

Piers Plowman by William Langland.

1776 by David McCullough.

Long Walk to Freedom by Nelson Mandela.

The Cardinal of the Kremlin by Tom Clancy.

Like my copy of The Hunt for Red October, The Cardinal of the Kremlin was a signed first edition, and it contained the most notes from the representative, referencing specific parts of the book and how it applied to our current situation—and our country’s fate if we were not careful. The poem, according to a rather lengthy letter included with it, had been the foundational writing for the Robin Hood stories, which had somehow survived the purge of history, myths, and legends.

1776 would teach us all we needed to know about how the United States had come to be, knowledge that had been reduced into being a felony.

If most Americans understood how the country had come to be, it might rise up once again into a state of civil war, determined to dismantle their oppressive and lethal government.

Then, tucked within the pages of A Tale of Two Cities, was another address to a warehouse. Who owned it and why it was of interest remained a mystery we would need to solve, but the back of the paper indicated if we couldn’t get our hands on what was within, it would be better for the nation as a whole if everything were to come to a permanent end.

Something about the way he suggested the contents be destroyed bothered me. It screamed of a lie somehow, especially in the way his handwriting had changed, as though he hadn’t wanted to write the words at all.

The date and a second note scribbled underneath the warning indicated we had an October deadline to make the warehouse and its contents disappear.

Interesting.

The second warning mentioned nothing about destruction, only that the contents needed to vanish.

Friday morning, Representative Forsythe’s doctor, who had come to New York, requested my assistance with his procedure after confirming my findings and locating a hospital willing to accept the waivers I needed to do my share of the work. Rather than take my regular lunch break, I headed to one of Manhattan’s more prestigious hospitals, donned a pair of scrubs, gloves, and a mask, and waged war against one of my most hated foes, cancer. As promised, I finished within thirty minutes, making certain I took the time to do another head to toe check for anything else that might cause him issues that I might be able to detect.

I found nothing, and pleased I’d managed to make a difference, I returned to work until my dinner date with my fiancé and two rival representatives.

Representative Dareth of New York and Representative Dimitris of Texas had gone all in on their competition, resulting in two boxes filled with wrapped books. Their posturing made me laugh during most of the dinner, and between the two of them, their contributions would keep my branch in full operations for at least twenty years, including sufficient funds to hire six new librarians.

Representative Dimitris loved coming to our branch, and he wanted us to have sufficient staffing to handle an entire pox of politicians. Representative Dareth refused to be outdone by his Texan rival. After the meal, as planned, Bradley’s parents came to pick us up, and we loaded the books into the back. Bradley’s father eyed the boxes, shaking his head.

I assumed he didn’t want us to say a word until he had a chance to check over everything for bugs, something I agreed with.

Once in the comfort of home, I put the boxes in the dining room for Bradley’s father to deal with while I scooped Ajani up, praised her for being the best kitty, and cuddled her while Bradley introduced our new daughters to his parents.

Within twenty minutes, Bradley’s father declared the box and its contents to be free of bugs, making use of his magic to check within the books without removing the wrapping paper. “If there are any bugs, neither politician is aware of them—and they were being diligent regarding the selection of the books, how they put the notes inside them, and even how they wrapped them. All were chosen trying to send messages—more than just in the notes within. Representative Dareth’s box has fewer notes, but I suspect they’re of more importance; he had a higher sense of general urgency when packing his box than Representative Dimitris did. That said, both men are heavily invested in you bringing change to the government. That much is clear from their behavior.”