It was easy to love Oxford.
Hadley looked out the window, taking in the historic buildings. The place had a sense of stately elegance. She wasn’t able to fully relax and take in the view, however. She drummed her nails on the dash impatiently. She really hoped this contact could shed some light on L’Orage.
She’d often speculated the two had been in contact. When she’d been with MI6, she’d intercepted some messages between them, but had never proved a link.
And Professor Simon Dummat had refused to talk to her. Until now.
“You’re going to put a hole in my Bentley.”
She stopped drumming, and looked at Bennett. He drove well, and she had to admit the Bentayga was a smooth ride.
“I just don’t want this to be a dead end,” she said.
“Me too. I’m still trying to stop myself from going after Kitty bloody Wentworth.”
“Henry’s watching Ajay?” she asked.
“Yes. Hopefully we can keep him out of trouble, then I’ll get him some help.”
Of course, he would.
She looked out the windshield. “There’s the Bodleian.”
The Bodleian was the main research library for the university and one of the oldest libraries in Europe. It was made of several historic buildings. The Radcliffe Camera, a round, domed structure, caught her eye.
Bennett found a parking space a street away, and they headed into the main library, passing through old, arched doors.
Hadley felt as though she was entering a church. The building had a hushed, reverent atmosphere.
“He said he’d be in the Upper Reading Rooms,” she whispered.
They headed up the stairs.
A sense of age and learning washed over her. She took in the bookshelves, packed full of books, the students and scholars working at rows of long desks.
They approached a table where an older man in a tweed suit was sitting. He looked to be in his early seventies, with thinning, white hair, and a long, narrow face. He had several books open in front of him, and a cup of tea sat at his elbow.
“Professor Dummat?” she asked.
His head lifted. His gray eyes held a sharp intelligence, and a friendly smile crossed his lips.
“Ah, Ms. Lockwood, I presume.” His gaze shifted to Bennett. “And I see you brought company.”
“Professor, this is Mr. Bennett—”
“Bennett Knightley. I’ve seen you in the media, Mr. Knightley. Sit, please.”
They sat across the table from the man. Hadley had the vague feeling like she’d been summoned to the principal’s office.
“Thank you for speaking with us,” she said.
“I was surprised when you contacted me again. But I felt it was time to talk.”
“You know L’Orage.”
He gave them a faint smile. “Straight to the point.”
He didn’t say anything else.