Free No Way Out by Alan Jacobson

these influences in her works.”
    “From what I remember of my history classes,” Reid said, “that was highly unusual in those times. For an English woman to be so accomplished.”
    “Absolutely. There were very few women in England who were educated. We’re talking maybe several dozen in the entire country . But Amelia was the polar opposite, as was Anne Locke, who lived next door to the Bassanos when Amelia was growing up. Locke became one of the most highly educated women in England. She invented the sonnet sequence—a group of sonnets thematically linked to create a longer work. And again, we can see the effect which that kind of influence would have on Amelia in shaping her writing style. Remember I told you that Amelia was the first woman in England to have a book of original poetry published?
    “It was titled Salve Deus —and it contains a comical crucifixion parody, something no good Christian would write. But the same type of crucifixion parody also appears in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Again, this is not something a Christian would write—yet more evidence why Amelia, a Jew, wrote that play—and all the other Shakespearean plays.”
    “And that,” Vail said, turning to Turner, “brings us full circle, back to the Midsummer Night’s Dream manuscript you’ve found.”
    Reid, having drained his coffee mug, set it down on the table. “Indeed it does.”
    Vail leaned back in her chair. “Sounds like John Hudson has done some groundbreaking work here.”
    “You haven’t heard all of it, I’m afraid,” Wilkinson said. “John’s writing a couple of books on it, assuming he isn’t prevented from getting them published.”
    “So saying you had proof that William Shakespeare did not write the plays is like saying you’ve got proof that Jesus was a mere mortal. In my business, that translates into lots of reasons for someone to want that manuscript destroyed.”
    “Likewise,” Turner said, “there are lots of people in this multibillion dollar industry who’d lose a great deal of money if ‘Shakespeare’ was a fraud perpetrated by organizations supported by the government for financial gain.”
    “Not to mention the loss of national prestige,” Reid said.
    Vail tossed a handful of espresso beans into her mouth. As she crunched them, she said, “You’d run yourselves ragged trying to assess all the angles of who’d want to destroy this manuscript. The list of suspects would be too numerous. You have to find a way to narrow it down.”
    “What’s your role in all this?” Wilkinson asked.
    “I’m helping Scotland Yard draw up a threat assessment. More than that, I don’t know. I haven’t even been fully briefed yet.” She looked to Reid, who shrugged.
    “Don’t ask me. I was just handed this assignment.”
    I’m an “assignment” again? “Pretty redhead,” remember?
    Reid’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the display, then answered it. “Yes, guv’nor.” He listened a moment, then said, “Yes sir. Got it. I will.”
    He dropped the phone from his face and turned to Vail. “Looks like we should suspend show-and-tell for a bit. We’ve got one answer to your question. A group just claimed responsibility for the bombing.”

7
    R eid pulled the car to a stop in the parking lot of the Kennington Road Police Station.
    “Where are we?” Vail asked, craning her head around.
    “South London. That big, winding river you probably saw from the plane? That’s the Thames. Pretty spectacular, anyway. If you’ve got time, you should take one of the sightseeing boats all the way to Canary Wharf. The architecture is stunning. You can’t get into any of the buildings, but you can gawk from the outside.”
    “Why can’t I go inside?”
    “Financial district. Security’s tighter than a virgin’s—oh, sorry. Tighter than a rusted nut.”
    “Where’s your mind, Reid? Virgins and rusted nuts?”
    “Did I say rusted? I meant roasted. The street vendors sell tasty roasted nuts