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notepad. He set up several angled lights around the base for contrast. His microscope was then linked to a printer.
    After several hours of examination, having powered down to a mere 10-4 m, Coglin printed out several versions of his microscopy view.
    â€œDone,” he announced casually.
    Agent Johnson placed the notepad back in the plastic bag and sealed it, signing off on the label on the exterior of the bag with the date, time, and his initials. Then, after a polite nod to Blackstone and Coglin, Johnson left for the FBI building, where he said he would be placing the bag containing the notepad back into the evidence room.
    Coglin seemed satisfied with what he saw and explained to Blackstone that his next step would begin as soon as he returned to his University of Maryland lab.
    â€œI will double-check my field findings,” he said, “and then feed the data on the gross outline of the impressions on the notepad into a special lexicon/epigraphy software system. I’ve used it in other document impression cases. I’ll start with the assumption that Horace Langley was writing in English when he made his notes. But if the results are inconclusive, then I will try some other language variants. The software system I designed contains one hundred and five language identifiers. So my hunch is that we will be able to decipher the impression he left on the notepad.”
    When Blackstone got back to the office later that day he noticed the light on in Julia’s office down the hall. After he picked up a fistful of phone message slips from Frieda, he strolled down to Julia’s office. He strode in and plunked himself down on the leather chair across from her desk.
    Blackstone sat for several minutes silently, until Julia finally put down her pen, pushed her file to the side of her desk, and gave him a cold, hard look.
    â€œYes?” she asked.
    â€œI just like watching you while you work,” he said with a smile.
    â€œAnd I don’t like being watched,” she snapped back.
    â€œWell, I did have something to say,” he said, clearing his throat.
    Julia continued to give him a cold stare.
    â€œI admit I was condescending with you,” Blackstone said. “Sorry about that. Personality defect. Probably a defense mechanism as a result of my deep-seated insecurities.”
    â€œOh please, ” she groaned.
    â€œOkay. Apology given. Apology accepted. Moving on,” Blackstonesaid with a smile, “I just got back from our examination of the notepad. Dr. Coglin’s going to call me at home tonight with the results. Do you want me to conference you into the call?”
    â€œNot really,” Julia said with a look of manufactured boredom. “I have a date tonight.”
    â€œThat’s wonderful,” he said. “What’s his name?”
    â€œOh, no. We’re not going there,” she replied.
    â€œFine. Let’s keep the professional hermetically sealed off from the personal.”
    â€œGood,” she said. “Anything else?”
    â€œYes. Where’s the results of your investigation into this Lord Magister Dee character?”
    â€œI thought you’d never ask,” Julia said. Then she tapped a few times on her keyboard, waited for two seconds, and then turned to him and said, “There—I just e-mailed you my report on Lord Dee.”
    â€œWhy don’t you just boil it down for me right here?” he asked. “I prefer the human touch.”
    She sighed and then launched in.
    â€œStrange guy. A member of the House of Lords. Mega-rich. Comes from old aristocratic money. Lives in a castle estate. Owns several other castles. He is a direct descendant of a guy named John Dee, who was a sixteenth-century mystic and astrologer in England. John Dee was full-blown occult practitioner and the personal mystic advisor to Queen Elizabeth I of England.”
    â€œWhy is Lord Dee’s pedigree important?” Blackstone