Solomon's Secrets: Chapter 5

This week, my seven actions for  

Operation Author: 365 Actions to Becoming a Successful Author 

 I will serialize chapters from Solomon's Secrets, one a day for 7 days.

I recommend that you read the previous few posts to get up to speed with the story so far. 

Enjoy, and please leave comments. Thanks

WHITELADIES ROAD, BRISTOL

The waiter attended their table and with a well-rehearsed smile, lifted the bottle from the bucket and topped up their glasses.

“Your food will be out shortly,” he said.

Sasha’s stomach was rumbling, the smell from the kitchen was delicious and it had seemed a long time since they’d ordered. They waited for him to leave before continuing their conversation.

“Cheers,” said Jon, lifting his glass to hers.

She chinked her glass into his and smiled as she sipped. The wine was cool, fresh and fragrant on her lips and she sank back into her chair. She was already a little tipsy from the cocktails before they arrived.

The talk had gone well, she’d been so nervous, wondering how she would be received in a new city, a new institution, with her controversial ideas. She’d clearly impressed one member of the audience.

He had been a key funder for the university for some time so it was in her best interests to keep him happy.

“Thank you for agreeing to have dinner with me, Sasha. And thank you for recommending such quaint little place,” he said, raising his glass to her in appreciation, before taking a deep drink.

“It’s a pleasure Mr Solomon, sorry, Jon. I’m sure you must eat in some pretty fancy places so I’m glad you like it here. I must admit, I was worried about what you’d think.”

She offered a small smile.

He laughed agreeably. A quiet, genuine laugh.

“It’s a nice change not to be eating in some stuck up, fancy Michelin starred restaurant,” a crooked smile stretched his full lips.

She enjoyed how expressive his face was. Along with his warm voice, it made him seem human. When he had first approached her after the presentation she’d been terrified of saying the wrong thing and costing the university some of its funding. He was refreshingly down to earth.

In many ways, he reminded her of David, the man she had fallen for so many years ago and who had mentored her as a student. His mannerisms were similar, but he was younger and more assured. He seemed to have a stillness about him, a quiet air in his manner.

He was watching her intently now. There was something indistinct in his eyes, a dark kind of distance.

“What is it?” she asked, leaning closer.

“Forgive me Sasha,” he blushed and hid behind his glass, “I must confess, I am a little star struck, finally getting to meet you. I’ve been following your work for a long time. I’m a great admirer. It’s taken me a few drinks to pluck up the courage to admit that.”

She couldn’t stop her high pitched response; “Oh!”

She’d never viewed herself as a celebrity. She blushed, “ur, thank you.”

She smiled to herself, recalling memories from years before when she was a student and had looked up to her mentor, Dr David Thornton, like he was a Hollywood star. She had a sense of how Jon must have been feeling. She quietly chuckled.

Perhaps he wasn’t so much like David after all.

“No, thank you Sasha, for all you do and for your fascinating contributions to the field of archaeology.”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin, even though her lips were clean.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he smiled.

“It’s fine.”

They were trapped in an awkward silence for a few moments before the waiter returned. He presented them with steaming plates of food, smiling deferentially. They waited quietly for him to serve them and move away.

“Are you staying in Bristol for long?” she asked.

“Alas, not this time. I’m here for a few more days at some rather dreary meetings then flying back to Nice.”

“So you are here on business then?”

“I am. My company is looking at some new techniques in the field of silk technology with a couple of tech firms based at the science park at Emersons Green. You see, the triangular prism-like structure of silk fibres allows the cloth to refract incoming light at different angles, thus producing different colours. We’re looking into possible applications in the field of optics…” he stopped himself, “I’m sorry, this must be dreadfully dull for you.”

“No, no. Not at all. Whoever knew worm secretions had so many applications!” she rested her chin in her hands, one eyebrow raised.

He let out a booming laugh. So loud a couple looked up from the neighbouring table, prompting a conspiratorial giggle.

“If anyone complains that we’re being too loud I’ll just offer to buy their dinner,” he smirked. She couldn’t quite tell if he was serious.

“The quality and history of silk as a commodity has always fascinated me. Did you know, some of the finest silk is worth more than its weight in gold, or saffron? Those are pretty special secretions.”

“I didn’t know that.” She snapped some food into her mouth and allowed the meat to melt and swirl around, humming to herself.

“Enjoying it?”

She smiled in response, and continued eating, carefully separating her chicken into morsels and savouring them.

Jon laughed to himself, ate a little, then broke the hush.

“I wanted to talk to you about the work of your team on the manuscript. I think I can shed some light on it.”

She was about to put a forkful of meat in her mouth but stopped short, the fork hovered between them and she raised her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“The manuscript is only part of it. There’s a wider picture. But you’re an archaeologist, you know that.”

She lowered her fork and nodded, willing him to continue.

“This new element Democritus discovered, it’s stored in a box?”

“It seems that way. You saw the sketches,” she was getting impatient, wishing he’d get to the point. So far all he’d done is repeat back to her what she’d just spent the best part of an hour describing to an audience.

“And the box is still in existence? If this is an element, as Democritus seems to suggest, there are lot of people who would go to extraordinary lengths to find the box?”

Her stomach flipped over on itself. How would she cover her tracks?

“It’s highly unlikely the box is still intact somewhere,” she snorted, trying to sound convincing.

He let out a loud, uncompromising laugh.

“Come now Sasha. You deal in artefacts much older than this box on a daily basis. Do you want to know what I think?”

“What’s that?” she swallowed, tried to keep the guilt from her eyes. She hated lying, had never been much good at it.

“I think you want to find it too. I think you believe it could exist and you’re curious. I know you’re curious, it’s in your blood. You want to find the original manuscript, you want those rings and you want the box so you can study, understand and learn from it. It’s why you get up in the mornings!”

“Considering you’ve just met me, why are you convinced you know me so well? Forgive my saying so, but isn’t that a little arrogant?”

A wry smile stretched his face

“Hmmm,” he nodded, “interesting tactic. Sneaky. Try to get my heckles up, rile me so I change the subject. You fascinate me Sasha. I really am starting to like you.”

He lifted his glass to her and took a sip. She couldn’t disguise a smile. Jon Solomon was about to prove an interesting sparring partner. She could have fun with him. The truth was, she found finely tuned arrogance attractive in a man. He was confident, assured and wily. He fascinated her too.

“Alright,” she said, tilting her head, “I’ll level with you. I’m an archaeologist. I live for the thrill of discovery, so it’s no great leap for you to expect me to want the manuscript. I’ve been staring at a dog eared partial copy for a year. There is a strong chance the text is out there somewhere - it certainly must have been found since the advent of the photocopier! So, yes. I would love to get my hands on it...”

“And the box?”

“I’m not leaping to any conclusions about any mysterious ancient boxes. One thing at a time.”

“OK,” he said in a conciliatory tone, steepling his fingers, “Just the manuscript.”

“Besides,” she interrupted, “there’s a strong chance the original manuscript will lead us to the box. Assuming it still exists, or indeed ever did exist and it’s not a theoretical construct or a blue print for what he would need to store or transport this mysterious element.”

“Ah. Interesting. I’d never thought of that. Do you have any theories about where the manuscript could be?”

“Not theories, but of course, we have all speculated - any more than that,” she opened her arms and shrugged.

“No speculations that could be worked into a theory?”

“Perhaps,” she frowned contemplatively, “but frankly, we’ve been too busy to find the time to look.”

“When might you have time to look?”

She stared into the middle distance for a moment.

“To be honest, at this stage the team are pretty self-sufficient. They don’t need much input from me. The book is out and says it all.”

“Mmm, I read it. Lots of interesting science stuff about the process of translating the script and speculations about what it could mean, but there is nothing in the book about where it may be,” he looked at her so closely, she was finding it intimidating, as if he was looking for some deception in her eyes.

“Don’t you feel responsible for the team, and for the project?” he said, almost accusingly.

“Of course!” she said, her voice shrill, “That’s not what I mean.” She thought about her response, trying to form an explanation that didn’t sound as if she was shirking her responsibilities to the team or the university.

“Put it this way. I can make myself available.”

She could see where this was going and the tingle returned. A tiny spark, waiting to be fuelled. Financial fuel - the one thing she never seemed to have. She took a couple of mouthfuls of food, as did Jon before he stopped, touched the tips of his fingers together and gave her a determined look.

She chewed what remained in her mouth and met his gaze.

“What if I was to say I had a proposal for you?”

“What do you mean, a proposal?” she took a deep drink of wine, maintaining her composure.

“I must confess. I too am interested in finding the manuscript. I enjoy collecting precious things. I can help you locate the text.”

“How so?” she titled her head, her eyebrows knitting.

“I could employ you, to find the text and the rings.”

Her tongue felt thick and her throat constricted.

Why the rings? She resisted the temptation to reach for the two around her neck. One David had left her and the one from the odious Turk, Kamel.

“The rings? Why the rings?”

“Because with the rings the text will make more sense. They are the key.”

Her heart seemed to compress. This was too close for comfort. Too personal.

“Let me get this straight. Are you offering me a job? Are you offering to pay me to find the rings and the manuscript and pay for the resources I may need?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

She laughed a cheerless laugh.

“Do I amuse you? Is this a joke to you?” he said, an edge of irritation to his voice, as if he thought she was mocking him. She got the distinct impression that he took himself far too seriously to tolerate being mocked.

A darkness seemed to cloud his eyes for a moment. She felt an instant of inexplicable fear.

How strange - What is he hiding?

Then it was gone.

“I’m sorry,” she smiled, “it’s just - this isn’t the first time a wealthy businessman in an expensive suit has offered me a job.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“Not like that! It’s a long story - one for another time perhaps?”

“I look forward to it,” he raised his glass to her.

“Will you at least think about my proposal?”

“Oh, I’m thinking!”

“Good,” his shoulders loosening, as if the angry creature he was holding back was slinking away, “enjoy your dinner before it gets cold.”

*

If a wealthy, good looking man wined and dined you and offered you enough money to pursue your dream, would you take it? 

Could you resist, even if it did seem too good to be true?

Whiteladies Road, Bristol (image from: http://www.panoramio.com)

 

Kate Winslet as Sasha Blake (image from: http://wallalay.com)

Tom Hiddleston as Jon Solomon (image from: http://www.cinemablend.com)

 
 Tune in tomorrow for the next chapter...
Coming soon - Solomon's Secrets is in the final stages of preparation for publication. Help me to see it in print by pre-ordering now.

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