If Brutus so unkindly knock’d or no;
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar’s angel.
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!
This was the most unkindest cut of all.
Alex raised an eyebrow when she glanced up at him. “It’s Mark Antony’s funeral speech,” she observed unnecessarily.
“Does it mean anything to you?” He sounded irritated.
She bit her lip, trying to piece the mystery together. “John loved the play,” she said slowly. “He had to memorize this speech for school, and one year during Michelmas break he quoted it until we were all ready to murder him.”
“But why would John send this to the Foreign Office, to Middleton to be decoded?”
“I don’t know.” She pressed her lips together. From the corner of her eye, she saw Camille gloating. Lucia turned back to Alex.
“What’s special about Julius Caesar?” Alex said, pacing now. “It’s the story of Brutus’s fall. He’s a patriot.” He turned and paced back, his feet seemingly working in tandem with his mind. “Brutus wants to serve his country, but he’s also naïve, and Cassius is able to corrupt him.”
Lucia was nodding excitedly. “But more fundamentally,” she interrupted, “it’s about betrayal. Brutus is Caesar’s friend, and Brutus betrays him. Oh, God, Alex!” She grasped him about the waist. “Do you think John knows there’s a traitor? Maybe that’s why he didn’t send the message in code. He knew there was a traitor.”
Camille shook her head, and belatedly Lucia remembered her. She wished she could have taken the words back. Alex might trust Camille’s loyalty, but she didn’t. Had she just endangered John by speaking her thoughts in front of Camille?
“Don’t you think this is all just a little farfetched?” Camille said. “Alex, s’il vous plai^t . . .”
“No,” Lucia snapped. “And I don’t hear anything better coming from your lips.”
Camille shrugged smugly. “And as insightful as your observations have been, che´rie, we still do not know where John is. Or do you purport to have the answer to that secret as well?”
Lucia glared at her, then read the letter over again.
“We know John is safe,” Alex was saying. “And he knows there’s danger. He hasn’t been found yet, so we can assume he’ll remain safe. We may have to go without him.”
“What?” Lucia’s head snapped up. “No! Alex, he needs us!”
“We don’t have time, Lucia. Dewhurst will be waiting. Once you’re safe, I’ll come back for Dashing.”
Lucia put her hand to her forehead and stared at the letter in frustration. There had to be something she was missing. John needed them. She couldn’t leave without him. But how to convince Alex of that? The words blurred before her eyes. What was John trying to tell them?
Then it hit her. The passage. She read it again. The passage—of course!
“Oh, my God! Alex, John is hurt.” She stumbled into him, holding the paper out like a plea. He caught her, holding her steady.
“John’s wounded. That’s why he hasn’t contacted anyone until now. We have to find him. We can’t leave him. Not when he’s hurt.” She clutched his shoulders. She knew she was begging, but she didn’t care. She’d crawl on her knees if need be.
“What are you talking about?” Alex stared at her. “Why do you think your brother is hurt?”
“Look at the passage.” She waved the paper wildly before him. “It’s all about Caesar’s wounds and how he got them. The blood running from each, and the unkindest cut—the one from Brutus—Caesar’s betrayer!” She held the letter out to him and, reluctantly he took it.
From her throne on the couch, Camille laughed. “You really should go into fortune-telling, che´rie. You have a knack for reading too much into things.”
Lucia opened her mouth to tell Camille what she could expect in her future, when Alex said, “I think she might have a point.”
Lucia stared at him. He agreed?
“Maybe Dashing is trying to tell us he’s been wounded.”
Lucia beamed at him, but Camille threw her hands up in wonder. “So the boy is hurt. We still do not know where to find him.”
