This chapter has one of my favorite phrases in it. :) Can you guess what it is? I am continuing to write this story but I'm also starting school so I can't tell when the next part will be posted. Soon, I hope.
It was too early in the morning and Nate really needed some coffee.
They had gotten in about midnight and he didn't get home until almost one. He'd barely had the strength to walk up to his bedroom and collapse into bed.
He walked into the kitchen, pausing in surprise when he realized coffee was already made. Then he wondered why he was surprised. The others were always in and out, making coffee and using his things.
"Morning, Nate." Sterling's voice came from behind him and he turned to see the man sitting in a chair near the screens, sipping from a mug.
"Okay, this is just too much! I have enough people coming in and out of this place! I do not need you doing it as well!"
"Calm down." Sterling nodded toward a bag on the counter. "I bought breakfast."
Nate scowled at him, finally easing open the bag. "Where did you get ... never mind." Grabbing the bag and a mug of coffee, he walked over to sit on the couch, setting both on the table. "Where's Parker?" he asked then paused with a frown, wondering when asking Sterling where Parker was had become something normal.
Sterling didn't seem to notice. "She was gone when I woke up." He fell into a silence, his expression blank as he stared across the room.
Nate lowered the mug he was about to take a drink from, studying the other man thoughtfully. "Jim … he started then stopped abruptly.
Sterling turned his head to look at him, visibly surprised. "I'm trying to remember," he said finally. "the last time you called me Jim."
Nate felt a flush creep into his face. "I went to talk with Tess while we were in LA." His voice faltered at the look that crossed the other man's face, a mixture of longing and regret. Clearing his throat, he continued. "She … explained a few things. I was led to believe that you had been involved in the investigation of the claim I put in and …" His voice faltered as Sterling's expression changed. He narrowed his eyes, speaking in hard tones. "You knew what I thought and you didn't say anything."
"When, Nate? Our paths rarely crossed. I was running around doing both our jobs. You were at hospital or somewhere. And when we did talk you were so angry for some reason. I didn't understand. Not then. After Sammy died, you were even angrier. Hell, Nate, I didn't even know about that experimental procedure until months later!" His expression softened. "Then I realized what Blackpoole had done." His eyes met Nate's. "It took me even longer to realize that you thought I'd been involved in the decision he'd made."
"And you said nothing."
"A part of me couldn't believe you would think that. I mean you know damn well they don't allow co-workers to investigate each others' claims. Blackpoole brought in someone from another office. I think the Phoenix office. And the file was sealed. I found out by happenstance. A fluke when that report came up while I was researching another case."
Nate stared at him, his thoughts churning. "Why didn't you tell me? You could have …"
"Not after you hit me I couldn't," Sterling said bluntly. "I don't take to being hit very well. Calling me a self-serving utter bastard didn't help." He flung the words back at the other man like a weapon.
Nate flinched at that but didn't look away. Instead, he took refuge in anger. "But you kept working for Blackpoole! Even after you found out."
"No, Nate," Sterling said gently. "I kept working for IYS. Blackpoole was a blight on how the company worked. Me leaving wouldn't have helped the company."
Nate leaned back, studying the other thoughtfully, thinking over what he had learned over the last couple of days. Some things, previously obscured by anger and resentment, now became clearer. "I was a roadblock in Blackpoole's way," he said slowly. "He thought you would be more receptive to the way he worked. The way he wanted the company to work. Hell, half the time you came across as a thug. So he took advantage of my distraction and yours to play us off against each other. Trying to get one or the other of us to break. Or better yet, get us to break each other."
"He succeeded too, didn't he?" Sterling rubbed at his face.
"He did," Nate said quietly. "He broke both of us, each in a different way."
Sterling looked at him in surprise.
"He took advantage of your troubles, your distraction to make you into what he wanted. I bet anything that he fed your view of me and ..." He paused. "He did the same to me. He never said anything straight out but he hinted. About you, about what you were doing and why. Lots of sympathy ... right up to the moment he stabbed me in the back."
"You know I didn't have anything to do with that, Nate. I would have helped, if I could. If I'd known."
Nate stared down into his mug. "When did you begin to suspect? That Blackpoole was manipulating you. Using you."
Sterling shook his head. "Not for awhile," he admitted. "Lyta pointed it out."
"Smart lady." The voice came from behind him but Sterling didn't seem to realize it at first.
"Very smart. And …" He stopped, twisting his head around to stare at Eliot. "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough." He reached over to snatch up the bag, scowling at the contents. "This ain't breakfast. I'll make some eggs." He stalked toward the kitchen.
Sterling stared after him for a moment. "I see what you mean, about people coming in and out of the place."
"Can't seem to keep them out." He looked pointedly at Sterling, who only smirked at him.
"How do you want your eggs?" Eliot called from the kitchen.
"Already have my breakfast." Nate waved a danish at him.
Eliot glared at him. "Sterling?"
"What?" Sterling looked startled at the realization that the young man was speaking to him. "Ahhhh … eggs up?" He said tentatively.
"Bacon okay?"
"Yeah, sure."
"What have you told Tommy about your childhood?" Eliot asked as he pulled pans from the rack. "Before you ran away."
Sterling looked him sharply. "Nothing. It's not something I can tell a child."
"How old were you when it was happening?" Frowning, Eliot searched briefly among the pans before pulling out a skillet and scowling at it.
"That doesn't matter! He doesn't need to hear about …" Sterling broke off his words, looking down into his mug.
"He may already know something about it. Kids hear a lot more then parents give them credit for. And you need to explain to him that what's going on between you and his mother isn't his fault."
"What? He knows that! I've told him …"
Eliot ran over his words, his voice firm. "Just like you knew, as a kid, that what was happening to you wasn't your fault?"
Sterling stumbled to a halt and the blood seemed to drain from his face. Nate, in the act of taking a drink, paused, thinking back - was it only two days ago? - to Sterling whirling on him, telling him that he had done nothing wrong. With stunning clarity, Nate realized that more than thirty years after the fact, Sterling was still trying to convince himself that he hadn't done anything wrong.
"Have you ever told him about your parents? Your real ones?" Eliot asked bluntly.
"No, never," Sterling said quietly. "Hell, I don't even know if they're still alive. When the Sterlings got the go-ahead to adopt me, I figured they were dead. I haven't really thought of them since."
"But he's asked."
"Yeah, sure. Of course he's asked."
"And you just avoided it?"
Sterling hesitated. "Yeah."
Nate leaned back into the couch, watching the interplay between the two men. Despite what had happened during the two Davids job, Eliot was obviously willing to help Sterling. Or rather, Nate realized, help Tommy, even if that meant helping a man he loathed.
"Kids these days know more about things then most parents suspect." Eliot slid the eggs onto a plate. "But they rarely interpret what they hear right. What could Tommy have heard and how might he have interpreted it?"
Sterling didn't say anything for a long moment. "What did he tell you?" he asked at last.
"Not much. His cousin, Pete, is apparently saying some things that disturb him."
"Oh, lord." Sterling groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples. "Poor Pete. His father's a complete asshole." He paused then sighed. "Damn. Did … did Tommy say anything about thinking we were going to get a divorce?"
"No. But Pete is of the opinion you probably have a girlfriend. Like his dad does."
Sterling hissed between his teeth and let his hands drop. "That would never happen," he said with utter conviction. "I've told him time and again that we are not getting a divorce. That I just need to work some things out."
"Three years is an awful long time to be working things out," Eliot pointed out. "Here. Food. Eat at the counter."
Sterling rose, walking into the kitchen to refill his mug before sitting at the counter. He poked at the eggs with the fork. "Yeah, I suppose it is," he said quietly. "I suppose it's even longer in kid-years."
"A lifetime." Eliot grunted. "You want something, Parker?"
Sterling looked at him, startled then turned to see Parker perched on the spiral staircase, knees drawn up, elbows on knees, and chin on fists, a frown on her face. At Eliot's question, she looked up hopefully.
"Chocolate pancakes?"
"Come sit down. I'll heat some up." He opened the freezer to pull out a package.
Parker hopped to her feet and scurried over to climb onto the stool next to Sterling.
"Leave my bacon alone!" Sterling snapped. "Do you ever eat off your own plate?"
Nate didn't hear Parker's reply, too caught up in a sudden realization that somehow, over the last couple days, Sterling had managed to become that distant cousin, the one you never talk about and didn't particularly like, to their dysfunctional family and he wasn't sure he liked that idea at all.
XoXoXoX
Nate, now dressed and carrying his third cup of coffee, paced in front of the others. Much to his dismay, Sterling and Parker had refused to leave and the others seemed inclined to let them stay. He'd finally given in only after Eliot had pointed out that leaving them out of the briefing would turn them loose on the city with none of them able to keep an eye on them.
"Okay, first off we found the man we believe was your attacker, Parker."
"Oh?" The young woman straightened, her expression fierce.
"His name was Eddie Macintosh."
"Was?"
"Yeah. He's dead."
"Dead?" Parker's voice was remote.
"Uh, yeah." Nate frowned, thinking that Parker would be happier about it. "He was killed about eleven years ago."
"Oh," Parker said in a small voice, slumping down onto herself.
Sterling abruptly leaned over the arm of his chair, grabbing for something. Nate was surprised to realize it was Parker's backpack. Ignoring the others, he jerked it open.
Nate tensed, waiting for the explosion but none came, even though Parker was watching Sterling with hooded eyes. Sterling didn't bother to rummage around; what he wanted was on the very top. Plucking out a stuffed toy, he offered it to Parker.
She gave him a surprisingly tremulous smile and took the lemur, hugging it to herself. Sterling closed the pack and shoved it back to where it had been. Leaning back in his chair, he met Nate's eyes defiantly, daring him to make something of what he'd just seen.
"That's not all you found, is it?" he asked curtly.
"No, it's not." Nate outlined everything they had discovered, omitting only their visit to Sterling's family. "Hardison, what have you discovered?"
"Quite a bit, surprisingly." The younger man paused, eyes scanning his computer. "Look, I got some more stuff coming in I need to go over before I talk. Sterling, why don't you go over what you found on those CDs?"
"Sure." Sterling dragged over his backpack.
"Uhm … what?" Nate gave Hardison a sharp look.
The young man, deep into what he was doing, didn't respond.
"Hardison gave me copies of the CDs from Montgomery's bag to go through." Sterling pulled some print outs from his pack and offered them to Nate then pulled out his computer. "I've looked through everything and from the look of it there are a number of people involved, all identified by their initials."
"EAM?" Parker asked abruptly.
Sterling hesitated before nodding "Yeah. And MHM."
"And CLC," Sophie said softly.
Sterling's face tightened and he nodded jerkily. When he next spoke his voice was wooden. "All total there are over two thousand different initials but only six hundred and thirteen seem to be active. The dates go back fifty years."
"Fifty?" Nate, Eliot, and Sophie said as one.
"Yeah. It looks like there are only about six hundred active members at one time. People leave, maybe die or are no longer able to participate and new people come in. Very low turnover. Now the first disc I looked at appeared to be a ledger recording some disgustingly large sums of money but what the money is for isn't clear."
"Membership into their dirty little club," Eliot growled.
"Yeah, I figured that but the amounts are not the same and in many cases there's more than one payment. I mean, here. SJJ paid two hundred thousand dollars eleven years ago then he paid another ten thousand ten years ago and then another ten thousand five years ago and another ten thousand this year. As well as one to five thousand dollar payments scattered all around."
Intent on explaining what he'd found, Sterling didn't notice Hardison's sudden start.
"Most of the people listed paid two hundred thousand and then paid out various sums at irregular intervals. Others paid five thousand or ten thousand once and then never paid again. At least not into this ledger."
Nate handed the printouts to Eliot and walked over to look over Sterling's shoulder as he flipped through screens.
"Then we have the second CD. The second ledger. This one shows regular sums from perhaps fifty people from the first ledger. These people have not had any money going into the first ledger for years and most of them only made one payment to that one."
"And you're thinking …" Nate asked slowly.
"Same thing you are. Blackmail. The people in the second ledger are people who got a taste of what this club offered, decided they didn't care for it and are now being blackmailed for daring to take a walk on the wild side."
Nate chewed on his lip for a moment. "Is that all?"
"No. There was one more CD. That one contains … well, I guess you'd call it a journal. Each initial in both ledgers has its own page and most of them have notes. Those notes are in code. I have no way of knowing how the code works. Not without the key. My guess is that it's in his head." Sterling frowned, tapping on the laptop. "Now for some speculation … Hardison, can we put these up on the big screen?"
"Uh?" Hardison blinked. "Oh, yeah. Sure. Just a sec." He did something with his computer then nodded at Sterling.
"Neat trick." Sterling grunted, manipulating documents until the ones he wanted were on the screen. "This is one of the journal pages."
"I see what you mean by code." Nate walked over to look at the first screen.
"Yep. That is EAM's page." He shot an apologetic look at Parker. "Since we have some info on him, he's the easiest to speculate about. You see his initials at the top left of the page. To the right we have two more initials, which are repeated in the main ledger. One of those initials is MHM, who I figure is his father. My thoughts here is that in order to join the group, two current members have to vouch for you."
"Makes sense," Eliot said. "One way to make sure the new members are trustworthy."
"Yeah." Sterling highlighted the body of the journal page, which was filled with a series of odd characters. "On the right you see notations about payments but on the left … my guess is that those are notes about EAM. I'm going to keep working on it. See if I can crack it."
Nate looked from one screen to the next thoughtfully. "And this?"
"That is the first ledger. Initials, amount paid, date paid, a couple other columns. The ones that are grayed out are apparently no longer active."
Hardison leaned back in his chair, running his hands through his hair and frowning at his computer. After a moment he looked up at the screens. "Okay, can you sort those … the active ledger … by dates paid? Most recent first?"
Sterling obeyed and the contents of the screens were replaced with the result.
"Right. That far right column. What are you figuring that's for?"
"Most likely what the payment was for. Every two hundred thousand dollar payment has the same series of numbers and letters. NTu333." Sterling scrolled down until he found an entry with that number. "Again, the key to what all this means is not included anywhere."
"Right. Scroll back up." Hardison looked back at his own computer with a frown. After a moment he glanced up at Sterling and then over to Parker. "I don't suppose you two …"
"Hardison," Sterling said quietly.
Hardison scowled at him then nodded at the screens. "Look at those numbers this year. The ten thousand dollar ones. There are thirteen so far this year. Five years ago there were twenty-three. Ten years ago there were nineteen." He glanced at Sterling. "Thirty-five years ago there were twenty-seven."
Sterling's face tightened, his hand gripping the laptop monitor so tightly Nate was surprised it didn't break. After a moment he let the hand drop. "So the conference is really …" He started in a wooden voice then stopped when Hardison shook his head firmly.
"No. The conference is real. We have some very real, high-powered people involved in these conferences. These people, whoever they are, are apparently using the conference as a cover for … other activities."
"So this notation is for activities connected with this particular conference?" Eliot asked, pointing toward the last column and glancing at Sterling.
Sterling flipped through screens, sorting and resorting before grunting. "Looks like it. They all start with SSi and then have what looks like the year."
Nate glanced at the big screen and suppressed a wince when he realized that most of the entries visible had SSi1975 in the last column. He found himself staring at one entry, the entry starting with CLC.
"Sterling …"
"Not the healthiest thing to do, eh?" Sterling gave him a twisted smile and scrolled up to the top. "Okay, so we get the attendee lists … why are you shaking your head?"
"Because the attendee lists are not public." Hardison explained. "My first thought. They are not posted on the internet and they are not made public for security reasons. I've checked their computers and found nothing. The lists are kept off-line."
"Why?" Nate and Sterling said together, something that had them looking at each other in consternation.
"Apparently there are a lot of big name people who attend, people who prefer to stay low-key, so as a favor to them, the organization keeps the attendee lists private. Now as near as I can tell the organization is legit. So these … people are just using it for other purposes."
"So every five years there is this conference and this ring uses it as a chance to meet and … what?" Sterling stared at his computer. "Set up private parties? With special party favors?"
Nate winced at the other man's wording but didn't say anything. After a moment Sterling looked at him thoughtfully.
"Right," he said softly. "Look, why don't I see what I can do with this journal? Maybe I can figure out what it says." He shut off his computer.
"Wait a minute." Eliot almost growled and Sterling paused, looking at him expressionless.
"Where is the headquarters for this organization? The one who puts on the conference?"
"In England. London, to be exact." Hardison didn't even bother looking at the information, obviously expecting someone to ask.
"So the conference is in Paris and the organization is in England. The only way to get a list of attendees is from one or the other. So we head to Paris and we work from there." Eliot looked at Nate.
"Okay," Nate said slowly.
"They come with us," Eliot gestured toward Sterling and Parker.
Nate straightened. "What? Wait …"
"No. No wait. Easiest way to keep them both out of trouble. We leave them here and … hell, they'd probably end up in Paris on their own. Least this way we can keep an eye on them."
Sterling slowly slipped his computer into the backpack, watching the two men with a bemused expression. After a moment, he glanced at Parker, seeing the same expression on her face.
"Do we get a say in this?" he asked her.
It was Eliot who answered. "No. You come with us and keep each other out of trouble. It means you can help; Sterling and you, Parker, but you do what we say. No freelancing." He hesitated, knowing he should talk this over with Nate but knowing they really didn't have the time. "Look, I know you both have a stake in this but it's gotten a hell of a lot bigger than just you two. We need to find out just how big this group is and who is involved and then we work out to shut them down. Working on your own, concentrating on only your attackers … that could warn the ring and blow any chance to shut them down."
Sterling frowned. "This may surprise you, Spencer, but I do understand that." He hesitated. "As long as the bastard who … as long as he's taken down I won't argue. Sooner better than later though."
Eliot grunted then glanced at Nate inquiringly. The older man didn't look happy and after a moment Eliot scowled.
"You two. Go sit down in the pub. Don't go anywhere."
Parker and Sterling stared at him with almost identical expressions. Eliot gave them his best 'I-mean-it' look and they glanced at each other.
"I love it when he plays fierce," Parker commented.
"Me not so much," Sterling returned as he rose, slinging his pack over his shoulder. "Me he'd actually hit. Come on. It's been three hours. You must be hungry."
"Haha." Parker made a face at him and grabbed her own pack before leading Sterling from the condo.
The others watched them go.
"Uhm. How safe is that?" Hardison finally asked.
"Give me a break," Eliot said. "They've been keeping each other company for the last couple of days." He nodded toward the screens. "Bring up the view of the pub."
"Yeah right."
One of the screens went to static then cleared, showing the view of the cluster of tables they most commonly used in the pub. It took a couple minutes but Parker and Sterling finally appeared, settling at a table.
"Look." Eliot turned toward Nate. "We can't leave them here. I mean we went away for ... what? ... twenty-four hours and Parker raids Montgomery's place. What are they going to do with us clear over in Europe? And I don't think we can leave someone behind to keep an eye on them. We'd be way too short-handed. And we are going to need Parker's skills. Hell, we could use Sterling's skills and contacts."
"Plus they will keep each other out of trouble," Sophie added.
"Or get each other in twice as much trouble." Hardison pointed out.
"But at least if they're with us, we can deal with it. And again, we need the numbers." Eliot gave Nate a defiant look.
"Wait a minute, people. Wait a minute." Hardison's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Well, damn. Looks like taking Sterling is a real good idea." He looked up. "IYS is insuring the conference."
"So in other words," Sophie said after a long silence. "He could be our ticket into the place."
"Maybe." Nate scowled. "All right, fine. They come with us. We all keep an eye on them."
"I think as long as we keep them busy and include them in everything, there won't be much of a problem," Sophie said, her tone hopeful.
"Yeah, right. Hardison, get us all tickets to Paris and rooms in a hotel close to the conference." He frowned thoughtfully. "How are people getting into the conference anyway? Invitation only?"
"I got people working on that," Hardison said. "By the time we get there they should have the information for us."
"Right. Let's call them up … "
"Maybe we should go down." Eliot suggested.
Nate followed his eyes, sighing at the sight of the waitress setting appetizers on the table. "Right. I'll go down."
"I'll come with you." Sophie rose.
By the time they entered the pub the lunch crowd was starting to trickle in. Several of the customers were throwing puzzled looks toward the area near the sign and at first Nate thought they were looking at the couple working locks at the table. It was only when Sophie started giggling that Nate realized that the stuffed lemur Parker had been playing with earlier was now perched in the upper part of the "R" in McRory's, positioned as if it were peering out the window. He suppressed a sigh and walked over to pull out a chair.
"You take way too long," Parker was complaining as Sophie walked around to sit across from Nate.
"Hush." Sterling probed delicately at the lock with a pick. After a moment he reached for a second pick. "Like I said before, I don't do this on a regular basis. Though I am seriously considering lock smith classes." His voice trailed off and his face tightened with concentration, hissing at Nate when he started to speak. A couple more minutes of silence and he grunted as the lock popped open. He set it in front of Parker. "So what have you decided?"
It took Nate a moment to realize that Sterling was talking to him. "You come with us to Paris."
"What?" Sterling gave him an amused look. "I have no say in the matter?"
Nate's lips thinned but before he could respond, Sterling sighed and shook his head.
"You used to be able to take a joke, Nate. It maybe hasn't occurred to you that I don't have the resources to go to Paris? You know, clothes, passport …"
"You always take your passport whenever you travel," Nate said in clipped tones. "And suits, just in case."
Sterling slouched back in his chair, eyeing Nate thoughtfully. "All right, yes. I have my passport. And a couple suits. I can pick up anything else." He paused with a frown. "Within reason. An airplane ticket, on the other hand …"
"Hardison's setting up the flight and hotel. And you might be able to expense some things," he paused long enough for the other man's eyes to narrow. "IYS is insuring the conference."
Sterling straightened with a hiss then he paused, eyes turning thoughtful. "Well." His lips curved into a smile. "Doesn't that work out perfectly?"
"What?" Sophie asked.
"I've been doing surprise inspections of the various offices around the world. Just dropping in to check out how the investigators are working and the investigations are running. I'm doing it unannounced and since I've been on leave they won't expect it." He slumped back. "I'll have to call and end my leave, of course."
Nate's phone rang and he answered it, listened for a few seconds before closing it back up. "That was Hardison. Our flights booked for this evening. We'll have to be at the airport in about five hours. We should get in early tomorrow morning. The conference starts sometime tomorrow. Hardison's working at getting an agenda."
"Can we go stop in London?" Sterling asked suddenly.
"We'll get set up in Paris and then decide what to do." Nate picked up an appetizer, aware of Sterling's scrutiny. "We're going to be working together, Sterling. Consider yourself a member of the team, which means you're taking orders from me. Just like the old days." The moment he said those final words, Nate regretted it.
Sterling's laughter didn't help.
"I take it he didn't take orders very well in the old days," Sophie said dryly, watching the laughing man warily.
"I think he's going to hurt himself," Parker said in mild awe then added. "Remember to breathe, Sterling."
Nate finally kicked him hard in the leg.
"Owww." Sterling gave him a dark look, rubbing at his leg. "No, I didn't take orders very well. Good thing too, considering how often I had to pull your ass out of the fire."
Nate sputtered protests but Sterling ignored him.
"So we leave in just a few hours, heh? Well, I'm going to need these bandages changed." He held out his hand, the bandages looking worse for wear. "And get my stuff. Mind if I bring it over to your place, Nate? Maybe use your washer and dryer? I don't think I need to buy anything and if I do, I can get it there." He sighed. "Oh lord. Going to Paris. Whatever happens I'm going to have to pick up something for Tess." He stifled a groan. "And when Lyta finds out she'll hand me a shopping list."
"Lyta?" Sophie said, blinking at the unfamiliar name.
"My assistant."
"His keeper." Nate corrected.
Sterling grimaced at him. "True enough. I seriously don't know what I'd do without her."
Sophie glanced at her watch and rose. "Come on, Parker. Let's go and get packed. We'll be back at your place in two hours."
Sterling reached out a hand to pluck the lemur from the sign and offer it to Parker. "Here. Don't forget him."
"Right." Scooping up what remained of the appetizer, Parker snatched the lemur from Sterling and followed the older woman from the pub.
"Wait a second." Sterling scowled after them. "Did I just get stuck with the check again?"
"What do you think?" Nate stood. "Come on. I'll drive you over to check out and get your things."
XoXoXoX
A couple hours later Nate sat on the couch, flipping through the screens and studying the material that appeared. He could hear Sterling in his utility room, folding up clean clothes and packing his suitcase. The man had spent most of his time talking on the phone; first calling the office to inform them that he was no longer on leave and then the ever capable Lyta to give her instructions for his trip to Paris.
Nate had to grin during that conversation, especially at Sterling's exasperated "Email it to me. No, I will not lose it! I wouldn't dare!". Despite the fact that Sterling was her boss, any conversation the man had with her came out sounding that she was giving the orders. Sterling never argued with her nor did anyone else for very long. Not even, he remembered, Blackpoole.
Now Sterling was talking with his wife, his voice low and soft. Nate didn't try to listen, concentrating on the items in front of him. The dismantled bag, the items that had been packed in the open or hidden in it. He'd re-examined everything and thumbed through the brag book.
Now ideas formed and were discarded then reformed. By the time the others arrived he had the outlines of a plan.
XoXoXoX
An estate outside of London
On her better days, Linda Weatherspoon was often compared favorably with the woman from that mummy movie. The 1999 remake, not the earlier one. And while she could, at times, acknowledge a slight resemblance to the heroine, she knew she'd never be one to work out in a dig (the sun does such dreadful things to one's skin) nor would she be any good fighting off marauders or mummies (guns tend to scare her).
What she was good at was research. Give her a task and she would shift through dusty archives and ill-kept and ill-cataloged collections to find out every piece of information she possibly could on the requested subject. Her expertise and professionalism granted her access to any library, even those not well known or with very limited access. So when the request had come from Professor Nicholson for information on an obscure secret society, she had thrown herself into it, working from the large libraries in London to one private collection to another. Now she was at a collection she had once used before and would really prefer not to use again but memory nagged at her every time she looked at the design the Professor had sent her. She had seen it before and, despite her misgivings, something told her it was here that she had seen it.
"Need any help, ducky?" The caretaker asked as he unlocked the door into the private collection.
"No. No, thank you." She adjusted her backpack, filled with what she needed.
The caretaker frowned at her but didn't protest. Apparently her exemplary behavior the last time she was here allowed her some leeway.
"Remember the rules then?"
"Perfectly." She removed white cotton gloves from her pocket and slipped them on, her eyes already roaming over the books within.
The caretaker grunted his approval and waved her in. "I'll have to lock you in, of course. When you're ready to leave just use the house phone. Mind the water and crumbs." He winked at her.
Despite the guilty flush that crept into her face, she smiled back, acknowledging that she did indeed have a couple bottles of water and some snacks in her backpack. Making a note to do something nice for the caretaker … maybe a nice fruit basket, the Professor was certainly paying her enough … she walked in and waited as the door was closed and locked before looking around.
Even with the lights all on, it was still dim. The contents of this small library were very old and fragile so the best of care was taken with them. The room was climate controlled and the only bright lights were at a desk set in the corner. She walked over to turn on the lights there and set her pack down next to the chair. Taking a deep breath, she plunged both physically and mentally into the stacks, thankful that the books were kept well-dusted and reasonably organized.
She disregarded the scrolls stacked neatly in the cubbyholes along one wall; she had only taken a cursory look at them last time she was here. With quick experienced motions, she made her way through the books lining the walls then started on the books in the stacks. She concentrated on finding the sketch, doing her best to ignore the salacious contents of most of the books. Though she did have to admit she was fascinated by some of the sketches and descriptions. Was that even possible … shutting the book much more gently then she would if respect for old books hadn't been ingrained in her, she put it away.
She felt more unclean than if the book had been covered with dust. A shower would definitely be in order when she was done.
"Ah! There you are." She tapped the page of the open book gently with her forefinger then half-closed the cover to glance at the title. With a nod, she took the over-sized book over to the desk and made her way through the book, sometimes using a magnifying glass to peer at the faded sketches. Finally she stopped and reached for her camera. It was the best she could buy, able to pick out fine and faded details. Carefully she took photos of the pages she needed then paused as the flash brought out something in one of the sketches. Frowning she studied the sketch, reaching over to tilt the light to illuminate the sketch better.
Grabbing her pack, she dug out the sketch the Professor had sent to her, studying it intently before setting it next to the book. Reaching for the magnifying glass she studied first one and then the other.
"Well. Isn't that interesting?" Carefully she put the book away and gathered her stuff together. "I do believe the Professor may have some explaining to do."
With that she called the caretaker and followed him from the ancient library, pausing only to look back as the plague on the door. Tarnished with age, it read Library of the Order of the Friars of St. Francis of Wycombe and all branches thereof. Entry allowed only by special permission. Underneath it was a newer plaque that read The Order of the Friars of St. Francis of Wycombe was also known as the Hellfire Club.