continued Mrs. Knight. “You’re saying someone wrote a message in blood and you could see it because of the black light in your kitchen.” “Right,” Nate said. “Did the person who wrote it know about the light? Is it just a coincidence they wrote it in your room and not another one or out in the hall?” Nate blinked. “I never thought of it that way.” “Damn good question,” said Tim. “Actually,” said Veek, staring up at the screen, “I just thought of something.” “Shoot,” said Nate. “It’s in English.” “They spoke English here a hundred years ago,” said Mrs. Knight. “Right,” Veek said, “but the other message is in Russia-stani or whatever. They might’ve been written by different people.” “Or,” said Tim, “maybe the same person leaving a message for different people.” “Say what?” He pointed at the image on the flatscreen. “Whoever wrote this thought it meant life or death. It was urgent their message be understood. They weren’t going to write in a language the recipient wouldn’t understand.”
