Ferney

"Look at this", one of the scribes said and passed an electronic copy of the "Genévoise" to the stern-looking woman who was just passing by his desk.

She grabbed the paper and sneered. "It's French. I don't read French."

"No problem. I have a rough translation already worked out; it's in the menu."

She touched a button on the e-reader, and the surface flickered for a fraction of the second, as the crystals of the paper rearranged themselves according to the commands of a tiny microprocessor. She read on, and looked thoughtful.

"Ghost? Is this one for real?"

"Seems to be. Our people in Switzerland also seem to think so. They say they have some leads, but it'll take a while to check them out. Access to the libraries is a bit difficult after the last incident."

"Hmh. Well, keep on it. If it looks good, we can drop a team. 176...1, you say?"

"Yeah. It's a bit hard though; there's an anchor nearby."

"Who?" The woman raised his eyebrows. End of the 18th century was filled with Anchors, but in a French country-side village?

"Francois Marie Arouet." Seeing the questioning look, the scribe hastened to add: "Voltaire."

"Ah... Well, that does make it interesting. Keep me posted."

He nodded, and she scurried along. She passed through the door, and let it slam shut behind her.

Click.