The Keepers of the Library

by Glenn Cooper

  Returning to Will’s side, she said, “His name’s Angus. I reckon he’s eighty or thereabouts. There’s something wrong with ’im, but it’s beyond our ken t’ fix it.”

  “I don’t suppose the local doctor makes house calls,” Will said.

  “Not to this house he doesn’t,” she said, seemingly happy to have something to laugh at. “We’ve gotten quite good with home remedies. When they get a cough or fever, we put them in th’ room you’re in t’ keep the others away from it. On th’ whole, they’re a healthy lot.”

  Will scanned the green-eyed faces. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Aye.”

  “About your sons.”

  “Andrew and Douglas?”

  “No, these sons.”

  She rose again and stood behind the youngest and put her hands on his shoulders. He briefly stopped writing at the touch but started again without looking up. “This is Robert. He’s seventeen, but he looks younger, doesn’t he?” Then she moved to Matthew. “And Matthew here is twenty-one. I was only nineteen when I had him. The rest are from my mother’s time, may she rest in peace.”

  “How do your other children feel about them?”

  She kissed Matthew’s ginger hair and rejoined Will. “They accept it. It’s what they know. And the girls know that when it’s their time, they’ll do th’ right thing.”

  “But it’s not going to happen now, Cacia. You know that. For better or worse, everything you’ve known is coming to an end. The police aren’t going away.”

  Her whispered response was so faint he almost missed it. “I know, I know. What will become of ’em? I can see many things, Will, but when it comes t’ them, I see nowt.”

  “I’ll do everything in my power to help them and help you.”

  “They’ll be put in a cage somewhere. People will come and look at ’em like they were in a zoo. I can’t bear th’ thought.”

  “Then we’ve got to do something. We need to control the situation while we still can.”

  “There’s nothing t’ do,” she said in despair.

  “Yes there is,” Will said. “Let me help you.”

  Kenney and his men huddled in the bushes in the evening cold and watched through night-vision scopes as the police action unfolded below them. The narrow B road was clogged with police cars, ambulances, and a large command van from the Cumbrian Constabulary. A SWAT team had established positions, but Kenney derided their tactics. “Jesus, would you look at that! They’ve only got two shooters on the high ground behind the farm. The thing’s as watertight as a submarine with a screen door.”

  Harper opened an MRE pouch and asked his boss whether he wanted to eat.

  “What is it?” Kenney asked.

  “Shit stew,” Harper replied.

  “Yeah, I’ll definitely have one, but lemme call in first.” He put his earpiece into place, spoke a command into his NetPen, and when connected he said, “This is Kenney. Give me Admiral Sage, Priority Alpha.” He waited a few moments, and Sage was on the line.

  “What’s your status?” Sage asked him.

  “Well, sir, we’ve probably got every policeman and their cousin within a hundred miles of here. We’re monitoring their comm, and it sounds like they’re not making much progress with the folks holed up inside the farmhouse. There’s a bunch of MI5 guys clucking around reporting back to London every five seconds, but they’re letting the police take the lead.”

  “Do we have any confirmation that Piper is inside?”

  “None. But he’s there. I’m sure of it. His son too. And Locke, the MI5 gal, is a definite. They picked up her boss, who was shot-up, by the side of the road along with the body of another agent.”

  “And you still don’t know what the hell is going on in there?” Sage asked with obvious irritation.

  “No, sir.”

  “No chatter about librarians?”

  “That’s a negative. Anything to tell me about the Chinese situation, Admiral?”

  “Continued saber rattling. The diplomatic channels are full of chatter. Lots of smoke getting blown up lots of asses at the UN.”

  “Roger that,” Kenney said. “Any changes to our mission package?”

  “No, just keep out of the way and out of sight and continue visual and electronic surveillance. Report back in two hours or sooner if there are developments. Out.”

  “What did he say?” Lopez asked.

  “Told us to keep quiet as mice and keep eyes on the target.”

  Harper handed Kenney a pouch of food. “Why do they say that? Quiet as a mouse?” he asked. “A mouse can make a hell of a racket if it’s got a hard-on about something.”

  “Should be quiet as a bug, maybe,” Lopez said.

  Kenney chewed on his stew. “You have no idea how ignorant you are, Lopez. Bugs are among the noisiest creatures on the planet. Did you know that a tiny, little river bug called the water boatman makes a mating sound that’s almost a hundred decibels? That’s like sitting ten feet away from a goddamn freight train as it’s barreling past. Know how they do it?”

  He did not.

  “The little bug’s got a penis about as thick as a human hair—about like yours, Harper—and it rubs that sucker against some ridges on its abdomen kind of like a spoon against a washboard. And that’s how it raises hell.”

  “How do you know that kind of shit, chief?” Lopez asked.

  Kenney stuck his spoon into the stew, and said, “I don’t know, Lopez, I just do.”

  “You must be very proud of your father,” Annie told Phillip.

  The two of them had lain there side by side in awkward silence until she’d broken the ice.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he said.

  “I’ve wondered what it must be like, you know, being the child of a famous parent. My father’s a chartered accountant.”

  “I never thought about it much.”

  “Didn’t you? I saw that you won an essay contest with him as the subject.”

  He seemed embarrassed. “It was after his heart attack. I don’t know why I wrote it.”

  “Well, don’t worry, you don’t have to explain it to me. But maybe you can tell me why you’re here in Yorkshire. How did that come about?”

  Before he could answer, Haven came into the room and sat on Phillip’s bed, scowling at Annie.

  Phillip nudged her, and said, “She just asked me why I came here.”

  “Did you tell ’er?” Haven asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “He came ’cause I asked him t’ come.”

  “Had you known each other?” Annie asked.

  “No, I read ’is essay at school.”

  “Ah, that essay again,” Annie said. “So why did you contact him?”

  “You don’t have to tell her,” Phillip told her, shooting Annie a dirty look.

  “Why is it I feel like the gooseberry at this party?” Annie said. “If you unlock my cuff, I’ll happily wander off and leave the two of you on your own.”

  “Very funny,” Haven said. “I’ll tell ya. I thought Phillip could help let th’ world know th’ Horizon was nonsense. A girl in me school hung herself from worry. I thought I had t’ do something about it.”

  “Well, I think that’s very admirable, young lady. When this is over and done with, I’ll make sure the authorities become aware of the good you’ve done.”

  Haven began to cry.

  “I’m sorry I upset you,” Annie said, “I . . .”

  “Why don’t you just shut up?” Phillip said sharply. “I wish you weren’t here.”

  “We’re in agreement on that score,” Annie said. “Listen, Phillip, I’m not sure why you’ve got such a bad impression of me but . . .”

  He interrupted her again, “It’s because of the way you look at my father. It’s like there’s something going on. Is there?”

  Annie smiled. “Your father is a perfect gentleman. Nothing transpired between us. I give you my word.”

  “That’s good to know,” Phillip s
aid, “because my mom would kick your butt if you messed around with him.”

  “Come into th’ Library with me,” Cacia said.

  Will followed her through the anteroom. As soon as she closed the door to the Library behind her, she dissolved into tears.

  “I didn’t want them t’ see me crying. They’ve never seen it before, and I don’t know how they’d react.”

  “It doesn’t seem to me they have much of a reaction to anything,” Will said.

  She staunched her sobs as best she could. “Oh but they do. You’ve got t’ really know ’em like I do. It can be as little as a twitch at th’ corner of their mouths or a particularly deep breath. They ’ave feelings.”

  Will sensed an opening, and he went for it. “You have feelings too.”

  She reached for him and pulled him against her body. He held her while she poured her heart out.

  “It’s been such a lonely life, Will. And a hard ’un. Constant toil. Secrecy. Isolation. I love Daniel, I swear it, but we’re not close anymore, not intimate. He won’t say, but I think he went funny about my having their children. He knows it’s our lives, but it still affects a man, doesn’t it?”

  “I guess it would.”

  “I didn’t want this life for me daughters. But we’re Lightburns, and this is what we do. It’s our obligation.”

  “I understand,” he said. “I really do.”

  “It would be lovely, wouldn’t it, if we could chuck away all th’ fuss going on around us and all the obligations and lie down for a while, just th’ two of us.” She sighed, releasing him from her grasp. “But it would be over soon enough, then where’d we be?”

  “Back here. Dealing with the biggest problem you’ve ever had.”

  “What can I do?”

  “I need Phillip’s NetPen. Do you still have it?”

  “I put it on my windowsill for safekeepin’. Haven said th’ sunlight charges it. I thought, just in case.”

  “That’s good. Bring it to me as soon as you can.”

  “What would you do?”

  “Knowledge is power, Cacia. It’s the only weapon we’ve got. If the world doesn’t know about your Library, then when the authorities take this place—and they will—they’ll seize the books and suppress the hell out of it. They’ll probably keep people in the dark about the Horizon, and they’ll start up another Area 51 kind of place to exploit the data for military and political purposes. They might even kill us or lock us up to make sure no one ever knows.”

  “My God,” she whispered.

  “I was in the same situation years ago and the only way I saved myself was to leak the information about Area 51. We’ve got to do the same here.”

  “Who would ya tell?”

  “Not my wife. She’d be obliged to keep the secret from the FBI. I can’t compromise her. There’s someone else. I think I can trust him. He’ll be perfect. Please, Cacia, bring the NetPen to me now.”

  “I’d be betrayin’ our family, our legacy. Generations of Lightburns. Wouldn’t I?”

  “No. You’d be saving your family and protecting its legacy. I know how this works. I know how it’s going to end unless we work together. You know what I’m telling you is true.”

  With a nod of her fiery hair and a look of resolve, she left him there, free to wander on his own. The Library was so vast it was almost disorienting. Like staring into opposing mirrors, it seemed to go on infinitely. He had a momentary urge to head to the far end of it and browse the near future, but he stopped himself from doing that. He truly didn’t want to know when he would die. Or Phillip. Or Nancy. Or his daughter, Laura. Or Nick. He never wanted to know. And he didn’t want other people to know either.

  Instead, he plucked out a book at random from the distant future. The page was for 21 May, 2440. The names he saw were a rainbow of diversity, dozens of languages and ethnicities.

  The world is going to be all right, he thought.

  Cacia came back, breathless, with Phillip’s NetPen.

  “I’m trusting you t’ protect us,” she said.

  He took it from her and kissed her forehead. “I won’t let you down.”

  And though he fumbled at the NetPen’s unfamiliar buttons, he managed to get off a flash photo of a long row of books.

  Cacia chained Will back to his bunk and with a heavy glance, left him alone with Phillip and Annie.

  “Look what I’ve got,” Will said, pulling the NetPen from his pocket.

  “She gave it to you?” Annie asked incredulously.

  “She did.”

  “We’ve got to contact my headquarters, let them know the situation,” she said.

  “No, we’re going to play this another way,” Will said firmly. “Phillip, I need to send an encrypted message.”

  “You want to tunnel?” Phillip asked.

  “Yeah, tunnel. Can you do it for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “And I want to send the photo I just took.”

  “Give it to me. Do you want to type or dictate?”

  “Type.”

  “Let me set up the screen for you, and you can start. Who’re you sending it to?”

  “Uncle Greg.”

  Will struggled, running his big fingers on the small virtual keyboard, but he managed to get it all down. He handed it back to Phillip, and said, “Send it.”

  There was a loud noise as the door to their room banged against the wooden partition.

  Daniel came in, his eyes blazing with anger. Andrew was behind him, aping his father.

  Daniel spotted the NetPen in Phillip’s hand and snatched it away roughly.

  “Andrew saw what his mother did, and he told me as soon as I came back from spyin’ on those fuckers from th’ barn.” Daniel threw it on the floor and stomped on it twice with his boot, flattening the tube and sending small pieces of metal and plastic flying.

  “Now tell me th’ truth, lad, or I’ll thrash you th’ way I thrashed me wife.”

  Will couldn’t stop himself. “Manly thing to do, Daniel. Beating your own wife. How’d you like to take a man on?”

  “Go fuck yourself,” Daniel said. “I asked you, boyo, did ya call anyone?”

  Phillip looked at him squarely, and said, “No.”

  “Are ya lyin’ t’ me?”

  “I swear. I was going to, but I didn’t get the chance.”

  “All right then, we’ve got enough trouble out there without having t’ worry ’bout you lot.”

  And with a final stamp of his boot, Daniel took his son and left.

  Will wished he could put his arm around his son, but he couldn’t, and besides, the kid would have been embarrassed by the gesture. “Did you send it?” he asked.

  “Of course I did,” the boy said proudly.

  “You’re an excellent liar,” Annie said, approvingly. “There’s a career for you in the intelligence services.”

  “I wasn’t lying. He asked if I made a call,” Phillip said. “He needs to ask better questions.”

  Chapter 23

  Greg Davis finished a late lunch and sent his assistant, Maggie, packing for the day. It was sleeting outside, so a bike ride was out of the question and there was little appeal to a walk. He stretched out on the sofa, fiddled with his curly hair, and took the TV off mute. CNN was running a story about the Chinese government’s retaliation against the postcard affair by expelling a number of American diplomats in Beijing they accused of being CIA operatives. The US government was strenuously denying the accusations and was said to be weighing an appropriate response. When he’d finished with his sofa time he’d post a link to the story on China Today.

  Though he’d gone bald on the top and his remaining hair was now salt and peppery, his appearance hadn’t changed much from his days as a young newspaper reporter. People who hadn’t seen him in twenty years instantly recognized him. Their friends called him and Laura, who had also kept the hippie throwback look of her twenties, the eternal couple.

  The nerve center for Greg’s me
dia company was the second bedroom in his Greenpoint apartment in Brooklyn. For a two-employee company, Today Media put out a lot of product. Greg’s webzines blanketed the large immigrant communities in America with sites tailored to their interests. There were ones for Mexican-Americans, Cuban-Americans, Indian-Americans, Pakistani-Americans, Brazilian-Americans, Japanese-Americans but the one that was getting the most attention these days was China Today.

  His concept was to aggregate news from home and abroad of relevance to the target audience, get knowledgeable freelancers to write original content, and sell ads aimed at the ethnic group. But for the past few years, his viewer numbers were too small to command good ad rates, and he eked out a paltry profit.

  To his discomfort, his lifestyle was largely supported by his wife’s book earnings. Laura had written nine novels, all of them reliable sellers. Her first book, The Wrecking Ball, loosely based on the breakup of her parents’ marriage, had even been made into a film, owing to broad interest in Will Piper following his public disclosures. And though she had perpetually tried to establish her own identity apart from being Will Piper’s daughter, she had been persuaded by her publisher to exploit her namesake once again with her latest book, The Horizon. Given the anxiety of the times, it wasn’t surprising that the book had become her first bona fide best seller.

  Yet far from bringing marital happiness, her success had merely stoked the long-simmering and unspoken rivalry that existed between her and Greg. Within days of her publisher’s throwing her a party for hitting the New York Times fiction list, their arguments had become particularly nasty.

  Then, out of the blue, Greg’s fortunes turned in an unexpected way. Residents of New York’s Chinatown began receiving postcards, and his Chinese Web site caught fire. Capitalizing on his role as the Washington Post reporter during the 2010 Area 51 exposé, China Today became the go-to site for breaking news and analysis for the Chinese-American community and for a lot of general readers as well. The ad dollars began to roll in and his fractured ego went on the mend. Laura noticed the difference and told him it was nice not living with a jerk. And when her father had his heart attack, Greg had been a proper supportive husband and son-in-law. Laura informed her kitchen cabinet of girlfriends that it was looking like their marriage was going to survive after all.