In Plain Sight

By the time the librarian came by to throw him out, and glare at him for the mess he made, Alex had identified twelve high-end burglaries over the last three years. Each had the same characteristics: the only things taken were valuable and easy to carry, and there was no sign anyone had been in the house.

No wonder Nash dubbed this guy the Spook.

* * *

By the time Alex got home, Iggy was already in bed and the house was silent. Alex reviewed his notes at the kitchen table while he ate a hastily constructed liverwurst sandwich. He still didn’t have much. Nothing tied Beaumont to the Spook, but he had, at least, found a pattern. That was enough for one night.

Exhausted, he dragged himself to his room and stripped to his boxers. He pulled back the covers to crawl into bed, but a sudden thought made him stop. He picked up his discarded trousers and fished out his vault key. He hadn’t given the Archimedean Monograph any thought since last night, but a possible fix for the finding rune had just come to him and it wouldn’t hurt to make a few notes.

Just a few.

13 The Doctor

“Well you look like hell,” Iggy observed as Alex dragged himself downstairs the next morning. Alex grunted at him and poured himself a large cup of coffee.

“Doctor Halverson called me yesterday,” Iggy said.

“Who?”

Iggy sighed and waited for Alex to take a few slugs from his coffee mug. “Doctor Halverson called,” he said again.

“Oh. The researcher from the University,” Alex said, his sleep-deprived brain finally making the connection.

“He said they’ve identified three separate strains of the pathogen.” Iggy paused as if what he had said were self-evident. When Alex failed to do anything but stare at him blankly, he continued. “It appears the disease gets weaker with every generation.”

“So it isn’t perfect after all?”

“It’s still not natural,” Iggy said. “No disease in recorded history is fatal after just two hours.”

Alex shrugged. He wanted to do right by Father Harry, but it was Friday and if he didn’t talk to James Van der Waller’s insurance company today, he’d have to wait till Monday. Since Captain Rooney’s meeting with the Chief was at ten o’clock Monday morning, he didn’t have that kind of time.

“I’ve got a full day,” he said. “But if Halverson finds anything that can help me track down Charles Beaumont, or whoever’s behind this, call Leslie.”

Iggy promised that he would, and Alex reached for the phone on the kitchen wall.

“It’s about time you called,” Danny said once the police operator put the call through to him. “You know we’ve only got today left to save my job, right?”

“Sorry, Danny,” Alex said, feeling like a heel for spending time on the Monograph. “What have you got on Callahan Brothers Property?”

“Not much,” Danny said. “A couple of court cases where they were sued for not paying claims, but they won all of those. The rest are cases where they went after people who tried to cheat their clients. It’s all pretty regular.”

“That’s it?” Alex was astounded.

“I asked the boys over in fraud,” Danny said. “They said that Callahan Brothers recover stolen property fairly regularly. Much more often than their competitors.”

“Like maybe they’ve got a goon squad who leans on people till they talk?” Alex asked.

“Nobody knows,” Danny said. “Or if they do, they aren’t talking. I suggest you quit wasting time and get your butt over there and ask them.”

“Yes, boss,” Alex said and hung up.

* * *

The offices of Callahan Brothers Property were on the top floor of an elegant brick building that had once been an upscale hotel. The lobby alone looked like it had been built by John Astor; it was elegant and stately with marble floors, carved Art Nouveau rails and moldings. The building’s elevator had an operator, an elderly gentleman in a red velvet waistcoat who directed the car with smooth efficiency. Callahan Brothers occupied the entire top floor of the building, and the elevator let Alex off right in front of a large desk manned by a receptionist. She was young, maybe nineteen, with plump cheeks and dark hair, which hung around her face in ringlets. Her lips were red and thin, her eyes were blue and there were freckles on her nose.

“Can I help you?” she asked as Alex approached.

“I’m Alex Lockerby. I’m here regarding James Van der Waller’s claim,” Alex said, handing her his card. “I need to see whoever is handling his case.”

The girl’s face changed from the pleasant smile to a sour frown as she passed the card back.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “We don’t discuss matters relating to clients without the client present. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Alex didn’t move to take the card.

“Listen sweetheart, if you want me to go, I’ll go. But first I suggest you take that card and give it to the man in charge of Van der Waller’s claim. It’d be a mistake if you didn’t.”

The girl’s expression wavered between confidence and doubt. In the end doubt won.

“All right,” she said, standing up. “Please wait here. I’ll be right back.”