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Stella called Professor Whelan after the videoconference. As the line rang, she arched her spine and pushed back her shoulders. She never liked talking to informants and witnesses on the phone if she didn’t have to.

Detective Dan Garcia, her partner when she’d been a cop, had warned her once that only half the information witnesses and informants provided came from their mouths.

The rest, and usually the most valuable part, came from their eyes and their body language.

A phone call rarely revealed the whole story.

The line rang unanswered.

Hagen paced to the window. “Reception is bad in his office, remember? Try his assistant.”

Stella hung up and phoned Jodie.

She answered right away, her voice slightly breathless. “Hey, Agent Knox. What can I do for you?”

“Need to speak to your boss, Professor Whelan. He’s not picking up.”

A small groan escaped her lips. “He’s in his office. I just left him there to go pick up some lunch. Want me to go and get him?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Jodie’s heavy breathing returned as she tramped back into the building. Stella set her phone on the table and put the device on speaker.

A few minutes later, Whelan’s voice filled the meeting room, still a little creaky but happier than when they’d spoken to him last. “Agent Knox! It seems my expertise is in demand.” He laughed. “How can I help you today?”

His greeting explained his cheer. Stella couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a historian quoted in a newspaper. Let alone a historian of the ancient world.

“Just wanted to ask you about something you told The New York Times . You said that anyone could’ve drawn the character the reporter showed you. Is that true? Wouldn’t someone need expertise to know that character even exists?”

“No, no. Not really. The symbols left on that poor victim in New York were very simple. Very simple indeed. One was part of the Sumerian word for death. Anyone who’s ever seen a cuneiform, anyone who’s been to a museum, really, could’ve drawn that symbol.

Can probably buy them on little pendants in the gift shop. ”

Whelan laughed again.

His mood grated on Stella. The old man’s pleasure didn’t reflect the gravity of the situation. They were dealing with a series of brutal murders that might mark the start of a massacre. Whelan needed to realize that.

But he might not have been wrong. None of the killers they’d stopped so far had been experts. Brook Irving, a troubled veteran rotting away in a freezing barn, certainly hadn’t looked like he was a frequenter of museums.

There was another option—Whelan was lying. The professor could simply be saying as much to throw them off his trail.

Stella had to know more. “Professor, have you ever seen a cuneiform tablet that gives the exact date of the end of the world?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

Finally, the professor responded. “Well I’ve certainly seen tablets that discuss some sort of day of reckoning or an apocalypse.

” As he spoke, Stella wished more than ever that they were in the same room.

She needed to see his body language. “But no, I don’t think I’ve ever translated anything that gives a precise date for such an apocalypse. ”

She couldn’t tell from the tone of his voice if he was lying. “How about the phrase ‘the Day of Changing?’ Have you ever heard that?”

“Again, I don’t think so. But perhaps that’s simply an alternate translation of ‘apocalypse.’ I couldn’t say without more specific details or the text itself.”

Hagen strode to the table and leaned over the phone. “Just one second, Professor.” He hit the mute button.

“What do you think?”

“The killers don’t have to be experts, but what about this Administrator? The guy who’s running this thing. You’re telling me he’s not some ancient world know-it-all? Really?” Hagen sucked in a cheek. He didn’t look convinced. For that matter, neither was Stella.

She unmuted. “Has anyone else contacted you for your opinion, Professor?

“Oh, yes. The Washington Post has been in touch, and CNN called me yesterday as well. Everyone wants to know about these murders.”

Hagen rolled his eyes and swiveled away.

Stella picked up the phone. “Professor, I need you to not speak to anyone else about this case. If the press calls again, just tell them you’ve been asked not to comment. This isn’t about prestige…it’s about lives. People are dead. More might die. You don’t want your name tied to that, do you?”

“Certainly not!” Whelan barked. “I’m having the time of my life. No one outside my field has ever heard of me or my work before. Do you have any idea how jealous my peers will be or what this will mean for my department’s funding?”

Good grief. “Then let me be crystal clear. If your quotes interfere with this investigation, the FBI will no longer be treating you as a helpful expert. We’ll treat you as a liability. And I promise you, that kind of publicity won’t help your tenure committee.”

Silence.

But only for a beat.

“I’ll take my chances,” he snapped.

Stella ended the call and set the phone down with more force than necessary. “Not sure I’m Professor Whelan’s biggest fan.”

“He got his fifteen minutes of fame, and he’s holding on to it for dear life.” Hagen headed toward the door. “You want to break the news to Tysen? Or you want me to do it?”

Stella got her on the phone.

Without any pleasantries, the SAC started in. “What did Whelan tell you?”

“He said he’s having a wonderful time talking to the press and has no intention of stopping.”

“Great. Now every murder in the country will come with a little cuneiform tag, just to confuse the cops. Idiot.” Stella heard Tysen thump her desk twice. “Right. Drive up to Claymore. Talk to that psychiatrist.”

Stella frowned. “Silow?”

“Yeah, him. If the Administrator doesn’t have to be a cuneiform expert, he’s top of my suspect list. In the meantime, Agent Drake will see if she can identify any of the group members, and Guy will keep working his list of experts.”

Stella nodded. “Copy that.”

Tysen had one more thing to add. “Hey, if this hospital administrator is the Administrator we’re looking for, we can wrap this up now.”

Stella was quite sure they weren’t going to get that lucky.