Chapter Seven

The antique store

 

Splitting up the groups took Grant and Philip no more than a few seconds. They dispatched the members of the forensic team, along with five other members of the FRT, straight to the judicial morgue to assist in the investigation of Sil Moore's murder. While four others would accompany them directly to the antique store.

Contacting the owner of the store took no more than a few seconds too. He was an elderly man who lived a few blocks away from the store. Grant sent the order for a patrol car from that side of town to report to the house. They had no reason to be suspicious of the old man, since he had no record of any kind, but under the circumstances it was better to be cautious.

Under the pouring rain, Walter Grant got behind the wheel again, followed by a police car and the huge black truck that served as the FRT's mobile station. Given the nightly movement of air vehicles at that hour in the big city, it was not safe to travel by air and the party took the A1 heading west.

Despite the busy night, Grant was relieved that the event had not taken place in the subterranean part of the city. It would have become a quagmire if that had happened. The city had a whole other life subway, full of clubs, bars and other establishments that were packed to the rafters on weekends. Grant had lost count of how many times in his career he had had to go down in his younger days on patrol, to control the rampages that sometimes occurred.

Yes, Grant was relieved about that. What he wasn't so relieved about was his companion in the back, behind the safety glass. Agent Stuart, instead of riding with his team members in the back of the truck, had chosen to accompany Grant. That would have been no problem, but instead of sitting in the front seat next to him, he had chosen the back seat where he normally transported criminals.

Walter Grant looked back and gave the young red-haired fey a forced smile. He didn't dislike feys at all, but seeing him there behind the glass made him uncomfortable. Without much to do, he mentally went through a checklist of all the members involved in the case. Stuart's profile card was clean, if rather terse.

"I always wanted to ride in the back of a squad car," Stuart said with a wide grin on his face.

Fuck, that was the reason? It didn't matter if they were a hundred or two hundred years old, feys were always like that. Curiosity was always something inherent in their species. There was no mistaking that in the old stories about them. "You've never been arrested for anything?"

"No, fortunately. "

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How many years have you been at the Nevermore Institute?"

"Eighteen years. Fifteen working at the FRT."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-six years."

Well at least he's not older than me, thought Grant. "That's quite a few years. Are you thinking of becoming a field agent?"

"I'm a field agent, in the FRT."

"I mean in the SID."

"Hmm, no. Honestly, the risk in the FRT is much lower than the SID."

"How many years at Broxburn?"

"Eight, sir. I was at Birmingham and Cardiff stations before that. But now I'm in charge of a team. I don't want to move to SID field agent area, it would break my mother's heart if I did that, she was an SID officer for a couple of decades."

Mother?! Walter Grant turned to look at him again. "Are you natural born?"

 

"Yes, sir. Fey mother and human father."

That was a surprise. This fellow is a Chaos-Child.

The success rate of a pregnancy between humans and feys was of a low range. Because of that, feys almost always chose to be with someone of their own species. And even in cases like that the chances of pregnancy were low. Still, there was always a chance of success.

"At what age did your growth stop?"

"Twenty-one years."

"That's not a bad number."

"No, it's not. Although I wish I'd had more better look before my aging stopped completely."

"You people can't change your appearance after the aging stops?"

"Yes, it is possible, even some feys can very fast. But it's really hard. Double or triple everything. Double training, much stricter diet. It's not recommended in many cases. In mine it would take me more than ten years of continuous, non-stop training to change my physique a little bit. I have better things to do with my time."

[It would probably take you twelve years.]

The subdued female voice brought them out of their private chat. They had forgotten that Oxy had been added to the team as a special consultant. She had been quiet the whole time since they had left Sil Moore's apartment.

Grant once again checked the list of members related to the case, and there he found Oxy's personnel file as a special consultant for the Science Department. The personnel file revealed almost nothing, other than her name, position as a special agent and professor, along with the security badges that accredited her as a member of the main branch of SID.

Another high-ranking agent, Grant thought as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "So you're a teacher and a special agent?"

[Yes, I am.]

"How do you carry two jobs?"

[Special agents all have second jobs in addition to being field agents. That is, we may be agents, but we also perform extra duties.]

Grant quickly checked Philip Cook's personnel file and couldn't find what his second job was, but his partner Zi was listed as a professional sniper.

"I see. Do you travel a lot?" asked the detective.

[Not too much. I limit my area of work to our main base. I'm not on active duty much. I almost always provide support as well as science training to the first response teams.]

"I imagine you're always busy with so many different agents."

[Well... yes. Still, I'm not consulted very often, unless it's by the primary agent groups.]

Grant actually enjoyed the pleasant chat with Oxy more than with Stuart. He liked the woman's voice, although he was unaware that Oxy got into trouble more often than she could. And chatting they arrived at Inverleith Terrace, where another police car was already waiting for them, with the nervous owner of the antique store.

The old merchant was a bit worried when the police knocked on his door, asking him to accompany them to his store because there had been a problem with one of his recent sales. In all his years he had never had any problems with his customers, other than the occasional haggling over the price of an item. He took his umbrella and went to the police without complaint and waited for Grant to arrive with his strange entourage.

In the rain, which had begun to fall harder, Grant met with the frightened old man and the policemen. The old man became more concerned when he saw the FRT truck with its mobile station parked near the mobiles. He had lost count of how many times he had seen it on the news over the years.

"Ned Harvey Cormac?" Grant asked.

"Yes sir," the older man admitted.

"Detective Inspector Walter Grant, CID. This is Jim Stuart, FRT, agent from the Nevermore Institute. We have a few questions for you. Can you open up your store for us, please?''

The old man saluted them both and nodded. Accompanied by the policemen and the FRT members, they entered the place. The store was filled with old objects from different eras, although what surprised them was to see how the lights of the place shone on the brightest objects. The old man sure spent a lot of time cleaning the objects so they wouldn't get dusty.

"You keep records, of all your sales?"

"Yes. Everything is inventoried. From the smallest object to the largest."

"A couple of days ago a young lady came in and made a purchase," Grant said, and pulled out a copy of Sil Moore's ID photo, which with a wave of his hand he sent straight to the old man's brain. "Do you remember her?"

"Oh, yes. Lovely girl. She bought a mirror I had there," the older Cormac said, pointing to the store window. "Has something happened?"

"We need to know where the mirror came from," Stuart said.

"I'm going to have to do some digging. That one's been here for years. I bought it in a lot from another store that its owner died decades ago."

"A lot you say?" Stuart asked.

"Yes, I bought a whole lot of antiques. And that mirror was there."

"Was it the only one?"

"No, it's six, as I recall. I tried to offer one more to this girl, but she only took one."

Grant and Stuart looked at each other, almost breathing a sigh of relief. "Where are the other five?"

The old man pointed to the back of the store, toward some stairs that led to the second floor. "Up there, in the storeroom."

"Show us, please."

"I don't understand, did something happen to the lady who bought the mirror?" Cormac asked, as he walked to the back of the store.

[Jim…]

"Yes, Professor?" Jim Stuart was surprised by the sudden change in Oxy's voice. Her calling him by name felt good. He had fond memories of his teacher when he had been her student on the island.

[Make sure only humans touch that mirror. Ask the old man if the mirrors are covered?]

"Excuse me, Mr. Cormac? Are the mirrors covered?"

"Yes. The frame is old wood. The ones I have up here are a little better than the one I sold to the girl, but that's only because they're covered, so they don't get dust on them."

[Okay. If they're covered up, make sure they don't get any light then.]

Stuart thought about it for a few seconds. "You think they could have some SAAD, Professor?"

[Exactly, maybe I'm overreacting but it's best to be on the lookout. If the mirror box can act as a whole, it wouldn't be unusual for the parts to be connected in some way even if the parts are disassembled.]

Always thinking ahead, Stuart thought with a smile.

Cormac led the group upstairs. The warehouse was a much more cluttered place than the first floor. But it was obvious that the cleanliness in that part was nowhere near the neatness of the first floor. Maybe old Cormac didn't go upstairs as often.

"Come on, it's this way," Cormac led the way to one of the corners, as he turned on the lights.

Next to a huge closet, from which a few cockroaches escaped at Olympic speed as he turned on the lights, were the huge mirrors, each covered by a black cloth with a layer of dust so thick it looked as if it hadn't been touched in decades.

"Professor, are you getting this?"

[Yes, don't uncover them,] Oxy ordered, addressing Grant as well.

The FRT team deployed reading instruments on site, with MWP devices to scan the mirrors under the fabric, and FCS readers to detect anomalies, but there was nothing to suggest that the mirrors had anything abnormal. Stuart took it upon himself to check the edges carefully, finding the same grooves they had found on the other one. Most likely the hinges had been removed some time ago to facilitate the move. Still, it was a miracle that the wooden frames and glass had held up so long without being broken.

Meanwhile Grant took it upon himself to question Cormac about the purchase of the mirror. The old man was nervous, to which Grant omitted to tell him that his client had ended up murdered. He merely told him that an anomaly related to the Dark Events had been detected, at which the old man blanched.

"I should have known," he said, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?" Grant asked.

"It always gave me a bit of a bad feeling. I've had it here for decades but I've lost count of the times it' scared me."

"Scared you, you say?"

"Yes, sir. More than once I heard blows, coming from it. And from the others in here too. But they were almost always from the one in the window. That's one of the reasons I lowered the price."

"Blows?"

"Yes, on the glass."

"If you already suspected that this might be a strange object you should have reported it."

The old man smiled. "It's an antique store, here everything can cause noises, rustling. But sometimes it's scary when it's quiet and all of a sudden you hear a noise."

[Did you hear that?] Stuart asked Oxy.

[Yeah... I hadn't thought of that.]

"The what?" asked Grant.

[I guess Zi's not alone in the mirror...]

Grant was about to say something else, when an incoming call snapped him out of his thoughts. It was the last thing he expected that night. He was silent for a few moments as he spoke into the secure line. Then frowning, he looked at Stuart with an expression that did not bode well.

"I just got a call from MCITHQ."

"What happened?" Stuart asked.

Grant looked at the old man and said. "The vehicle carrying four of our FIs just disappeared and their NWs are down." He then sent a direct message to the chat window. [Someone is apparently interested in the victim's corpse.]

Stuart looked at him with a frown. [Is this a joke?]

[Things get complicated.] Oxy added.

At that moment Walter Grant received a new call. What now?