Chapter Three
It was all hands on deck the moment Artie closed his Farnsworth, disconnecting Agent Lattimer's call. Myka was missing.
Swivelling round on his chair, he tried hard to ignore the churning in the pit of his stomach, just as he had to ignore the sharp lines of worry on his young protégé's face as she looked to him for instruction.
"Artie? Come on, what are we gonna look for first man? I can tap into the CCTV; check her accounts for new purchases; look for other missing persons... we gotta do something!" Claudia was panicking. Her colleagues were her family; Artie like a father, Pete and Steve like brothers and Myka and Leena like sisters. She had lost enough family during her formative years to motivate her into immediate action.
"Check the CCTV first. Pete gave us a fairly short window; you should be able to see them entering the hotel and Myka exiting within an hour," he watched with pride as the red head jumped to work, her fingers flying across the key board. "I'll check her accounts; I've got clearance."
Claudia glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him before swiftly returning to her board. "Like I need clearance to be able to do that," she scoffed.
"I meant that I can do it legally," he groused, emphasising the legal aspect. "We'll get onto the missing persons when you've finished. I'll also start a search for artefacts that are known to be missing in France, Pete mentioned she'd been losing consciousness and slipping into memories." The room echoed with the sound of his teeth grinding; he hated it when his agents neglected to report odd incidences.
"For how long?" The hacker queried with a frown.
Artie began to turn a funny shade of puce as he tried in vain to control his temper. "Long enough that I'm going to give them both inventory for a month when they get back!"
Pete had seen his partner entering her room shortly after three pm. They'd just had lunch – a soufflé for Myka and two helpings of steak for Pete from his partner's favourite back street cafe – and had returned to the hotel to pack. Pete had made himself busy in the lobby for an hour, having only needed ten minutes to fill his suitcase, while he waited as usual for his fellow agent to alphabetise her underwear, or whatever else took her so long to fold a week's worth of clothing.
Knowing that Myka was compulsive with her need to be punctual, Pete began to worry when he was forced to stop flirting with the receptionist and realised that their flight was in two hours. They should have been out the door half an hour ago. He still hadn't felt any vibes at that point to indicate whether his partner was in any trouble but he was soon outside Myka's room, waiting for her to answer. By the time he'd managed to get a maitre d to open the door, his partner was long gone.
Agent Lattimer was at a loss. There was nothing in Myka's room to suggest foul play or that she had had a plan in mind when she apparently left in the midst of packing her bag. He knew his partner well enough to know that she would leave breadcrumbs for him if her absence was related to a case. So what did that leave?
After years of having had Agent Bering's sharp mind picking apart and arranging all the facts in record time, Pete found that his detective skills were a little rusty. On the flip side though, he'd learnt a great deal from the woman's brilliant reasoning and he used this to his advantage.
Hours of research and investigating quickly turned into a day... and then two.
Agent Jinks joined him on the second day and began to assist with re-interviewing witnesses. He quickly filtered out any half or untruths and for a while, the pair thought they had a lead but it turned out to be nothing more than a case of a husband not wanting his wife to find out where he'd been all weekend.
Pete's worry and increasing guilt stretched so far that on day four he found himself yelling at Artie through the Farnsworth in the middle of the hotel lobby. Steve had calmly directed his colleague back to his room where they had set up their temporary base of operations and took the antique looking communicator from his shaking hands.
"Artie," he greeted with his most serious expression. "Is there anything new you can tell us?"
"We've been through the CCTV footage again. There's nothing there we haven't seen before but Claudia is sure that there is something 'off'. She's currently cross-referencing missing persons of the last ten years with security footage." Artie paused as if he really wanted to say more but changed his mind with a shake of the head. "Anything else on your end?" He continued hopefully.
Steve sighed and repeated what they already knew out of habit. "We've got no obvious motive, no money trail, and no suspects. No one saw her, not even the hotel cameras." He paused to watch Pete shuffle out of the room again and sighed, finally giving up his facade of calm now he was alone. "It has to be an artefact Artie." He concluded as he turned back to his boss. "But we don't really have much to go on to tell us what it might be."
As Agent Jinks was eliminating the possibilities with Artie and making a list of things to look out for, across the hall, Pete was once again in Myka's room. They had tried to leave as much in place as they could while looking through her belongings for clues. He always tried to be respectful when investigating any case but it seemed especially important when it was his friend... his sister.
Sitting on her bed, he glanced idly around the room, praying for a moment of inspiration. All seemed lost and he was about to return to see what Steve planned to do next when his gaze fell on a book sitting on the bedside table.
It was an ancient copy of one of HG's classics. Pete remembered liking the movie. He'd wanted a chance to sit in that prop and pretend to be travelling back to medieval times where he would rescue the damsels and eat at the king's table or to the future where he might be the last hope of a population dying because most of the men had been killed by some tragedy. His needs were simple, he knew that. He opened the cover carefully and reread the inscription on the inside of the cover.
May you always find everlasting wonder,
Your HG Wells
Pete lingered over the 'your' at the bottom as he had done the first time. He'd had his suspicions about Myka and HG. Particularly when Agent Wells had been carted off by the regents and Myka had been unable to remain behind without her, but he'd never asked. If Mykes had managed to put it behind her then he wasn't about to drag up painful memories.
He flipped idly through the pages and was about to put the book back down when something slipped out. His first thought was that it was a page that had torn from the spine. His second thought was 'I'm so dead!' Though when he reached down to retrieve it he recognised HG's handwriting and realised that it was a letter. Pulling it closer, he took in the series of three lined verses and hesitated as he contemplated the risk he was taking in reading a poem written for Myka by her...lover?
Deciding that any possibility of a lead was worth Myka's wrath, he began to read.
My darling Myka,
In darkness I waited,
Alone.
No thoughts but my own.
Into the light I fell,
Blinded.
Of the evils of men, reminded.
In your arms for a time,
Tamed.
My soul's sorrow lamed.
Love resisted by pain,
Raged.
My hatred uncaged.
Caught in your gaze,
Unmade.
Of this feeling, afraid.
In your eyes I will find,
Redemption.
I shall not mention...
How much...
I miss...
Your touch...
"Huh," he muttered to himself once he'd finished. He waited, thinking back to Myka's recent behaviour and was hit suddenly by a thrill of inspiration.
Memories. Myka had been disappearing into memories while they had been investigating the Fire Flint. That artefact however, didn't have the power to make people remember past events.
Pete was on his feet in an instant and charging back into his room with book and letter in either hand.
"HG!" He exclaimed, charging at his startled colleague.
Steve started in confusion, holding out a hand to halt Pete's advance. "Erm, ok. You do know I'm a guy, right?"
Lattimer thrust the letter at Agent Jinks, saying simply, "Read."
Steve's eyes travelled the length of the paper, taking in the same intimate sentiments shared between the two women and immediately wondering why he was being made to read it. "Are you sure we should be looking at this? You can't just go through all of Myka's things just because she isn't here to kick your ass."
"Myka never kicks my..." He stopped at Steve's expression of incredulity. "Yeah yeah, ok," he acquiesced.
"So Myka and HG had a thing?" Jinksy asked, drawing the obvious conclusion.
"Apparently," Pete pulled a face. "I knew there was something but she never tells me anything," he huffed.
"I wonder why," Steve muttered.
"We need HG here," Lattimer continued, ignoring the comment. "Don't ask me why. I've been low on the mojo since we found our artefact but I've got a good feeling about this."
So that's the first three chapters. I like writing poetry but am never quite sure if it translates well for other people. That's kind of the nature of poetry though, right? Does it sound like something HG would write? Other than the few quotes I've read of other people's fic, I've never read any genuine HG Wells literature. Something that I intend to remedy when all of my house-moving malarky is over with.