In Plain Sight

15 The Workshop

The crawler flowed over the streets of Manhattan on its energy legs, far faster than any streetcar could move, but it still felt slow to Alex. He had to hurry back to the brownstone and see Iggy. Clubs like The Emerald Room wouldn’t let ordinary working schlubs in; you had to look the part.

He needed a tuxedo.

The only person he knew who might have one he could borrow was Iggy. The old man was a little shorter and heavier than Alex, but it was his only option.

When he reached the brownstone, Iggy laughed in his face.

“What would I need a tuxedo for?” he said. “What do you need it for?”

Alex explained about the Broker and where he could be found.

“So you want a tuxedo so you can what? Kidnap this guy, drag him out the back of a Core nightclub, and then beat the truth out of him somewhere quiet?”

Alex had been so focused on finding a tux that he hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. Shiro Takahashi had been right; the Broker wouldn’t give up client names without a fight.

“And what are you going to do when you’re done?” Iggy went on. “He’ll have seen your face. He won’t rest until he’s found you and put a bullet in you, so you’re going to have to kill him. Is that your plan?”

“What do you want me to do?” Alex yelled, whirling on him. He regretted it instantly, but the stress of the day was getting to him. “I’m sorry—” he began but Iggy put a hand on his shoulder.

“I want you to think,” he said. “And I want you to listen.”

Alex sighed, his temper back under control, and he nodded.

“All right,” Iggy said. “You need to get into that club and find this Broker all without anyone knowing who you are or questioning your right to be there.”

“If you’re suggesting a disguise rune,” Alex said, trying hard not to roll his eyes. “You know those never work, and even when they do, any magic at all disrupts them. I couldn’t even ride the crawler while using one.”

Iggy did roll his eyes — and shook his head.

“My dear boy,” he said in his most professorial tone. “You haven’t used one of my disguise runes yet. They’re as solid as Gibraltar.”

Alex’s jaw dropped open for a moment, then he snapped it closed so hard his teeth clacked.

“Why didn’t you teach me that?” he protested. “Do you know how useful that would have been whenever I was tailing someone, or doing something questionably legal?”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t teach it to you,” Iggy said. “It’s so useful, you’d justify using it all the time.”

Alex was beginning to see the problem. “How much does it cost to cast?” he asked.

“Forty dollars a rune,” Iggy said. “Lots of expensive materials.”

Alex whistled. He’d have burned through everything he had in less than a week. He might anyway, if he wanted to get into The Emerald Room.

“I figure you’ll need four separate runes,” Iggy said. “One for your clothes, one for your face, one for your money, and another one for your face when you leave.”

“Why don’t you do them all in one rune?” Alex asked, doing the math in his head and feeling his wallet groan.

“Illusions work best when you don’t ask them to do too much,” Iggy said.

“So why do I need a new face when I leave?”

“Because, if you’re seen leaving, you don’t want anyone to be able to identify you later.” He waved a hand at Alex. “Now go away,” he said. “It’ll take me close to ten hours to do all four castings, so you’ll have to go tomorrow night.”

“That doesn’t leave me much time,” Alex pointed out.

“Can’t be helped,” Iggy said. “On the bright side, it gives you time to figure out how you’re going to get the Broker fellow to talk. Now leave me be; I’m going to my workshop and don’t wish to be disturbed.”

The word workshop hit Alex like a runaway cab and he suddenly realized what he’d been missing.

“Thanks Iggy,” he yelled as he sprinted down the stairs and out into the street.

Ever since he’d searched Thomas Rockwell’s apartment, something had been bothering him. Runewrights like Iggy and Alex had their workshops inside their vaults, but now that Alex thought about it, Thomas didn’t have a vault rune in his lore book. That meant he had to have a workshop in the real world, somewhere he could keep his supplies, write his runes, and research his craft. Runewright work tended to involve toxic and caustic substances, something no landlord would allow in an apartment building, so runewrights usually did their work elsewhere.

All Alex had to do was find where Thomas did his work.

As he rode the crawler south, he wondered what he might find in Thomas’ workshop. Would Sorsha’s missing rune diagrams be there? Had he found the Archimedean Monograph and fled with it?

More likely the only thing there is Thomas’ shadow burned onto a wall.

That thought soured Alex’s mood. It was further soured when he exited the crawler a few blocks from Thomas’ building. The FBI still had the building under surveillance. He wondered what Sorsha and her goons would do if they heard he was back?

Pushing that thought aside, Alex entered the building and followed the signs downstairs to the basement where he found the apartment of the building superintendent.

“What can I do for ya?” he asked in a brogue that could only have come from Scotland. The super was a short, slight man of about fifty. He had a mop of graying blond hair that looked like it resisted any attempts he might have made to tame it, and bright blue eyes over an infectious smile.

“I’m a private detective.” Alex handed the man his card.

The super took out a pair of wire spectacles and scrutinized the card for a moment.

“Now how can I be helping a shamus?” he asked, handing the card back.

“I’m looking into the disappearance of one of your tenants, Thomas Rockwell.”

“Thomas is missing?” he said. The super’s smile evaporated.

“His sister said he’s been gone for almost a week.” Alex nodded. “Asked me to help find him.”

“That’s terrible.” The super’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Did you know Thomas well, Mister…?”

“Flynn,” he said. “Michael Flynn. And yes, I knew him. He was a simple, kind man, kept his apartment clean, always paid his rent on time. I liked him. He even helped me with the accounts from time to time and didn’t ask a penny for it.”

“Did you know that Thomas was a runewright?”

“He had a rune that helped with my rheumatism.” Michael nodded. “I paid him for those, of course; I don’t take charity.”

“Do you know where he did his work? He would have had a workshop, probably nearby.”

“He had to fix up a rune for me one time,” he said, nodding. “He left and came back about an hour later.”

A rune to ease pain and improve joint mobility would take about half an hour, more or less. That meant Thomas’ workshop was close.

Unless he took a cab.

“Did you notice anything different about Thomas in the last few weeks?”

“Now that you mention it, he did seem a bit different,” Michael said, rubbing his stubble covered chin. “Happier maybe? Excited about something. Couldn’t tell you what, though.”

“Did he have a girlfriend?” Alex asked, remembering the state of Thomas’ bedroom under the glow of silverlight. Michael nodded.

“Betty something-or-other. Pretty enough as lasses go,” he said. “I only met her once.”

“Can you describe her?”

“Oh, a little taller than me, shapely, with long, auburn hair clear down her back. I’m sorry, that’s about the best I can do.”

Alex thanked him. “Is there anyone in the building Thomas was close to, who might know more about Betty or where Thomas had his workshop?”

Michael stroked his stubble again.

“The old battle-axe in 2F might know.”

“She friends with Thomas?”

“No,” Michael said with a chuckle. “She’s just the type who listens at keyholes, the old busybody. Her name is Hilda Jefferson.”

Alex laughed and thanked Michael. As he turned to leave, however, the little man grabbed his wrist.

“Saints be with you, young man,” he said, an earnest look on his face. “Bring Thomas home safe if you can.”

Alex didn’t have the heart to tell the old man that Thomas was probably dead, so he promised that he would do the best he could, and headed back upstairs. He now had a name and description of Thomas’ female companion, but he was still no closer to finding the workshop.

The door to Mrs. Jefferson’s apartment faced the stairwell and he heard her scurrying back as he approached.

“Mrs. Jefferson,” he called, knocking on the door. “Mr. Flynn downstairs said you might be able to help me.”

A much slower shuffle approached the door and it opened a crack. A woman’s eye appeared, covered by thick glasses that made it look comically large.

“Whatcho want?” she said, her voice like the creaking of a rusty gate.

“You know Thomas Rockwell in 5C?” He asked. “He’s missing and I’m trying to find him.”

“Don’t know you,” the woman said, starting to close the door. Alex jammed the toe of his shoe in the jamb to keep the door from closing.

“Please, Mrs. Jefferson,” Alex said in a mild voice. “His sister is very worried about him.”

“Hah,” the old woman cackled. “He’s been having a woman up to his apartment lately but if that’s his sister, I’m the Queen of Sheba.”

“You mean a pretty girl with long, auburn hair?”

“That’s her,” Mrs. Jefferson said. “Coming and going at all hours of the day and night, whispering her black magic in his ear. She’s a bad one, that.”

“That’s his girlfriend,” Alex said. “Name’s Becky. Thomas’ sister is named Evelyn.”

“That’s the only girl that visits Thomas,” the woman said, though Alex couldn’t see how she could know that.

“Did you ever hear Thomas say where he went to work on his runes?”

“No,” the old woman said, and laughed. “He never said, but he didn’t have to. I saw him out my window.”

Of course you did.

“Where did he go?”

“Building across the street,” she said. “Next to the five-and-dime there’s a door that leads to a stairway. He went up there whenever he left at night.”

“Did the auburn-haired girl ever go with him?”

Mrs. Jefferson shook her head. “He always went alone,” she said.

Alex stifled a laugh and thanked the old woman. He turned and went down the stairs but Mrs. Jefferson didn’t close her door until he was out of sight.

Thank God for nosy neighbors.

If Mrs. Jefferson hadn’t gone the extra mile and watched her departing neighbors out the window, Alex would have had to knock on every door in the building in the hopes someone else knew where Thomas went.

He’d gotten lucky.

The sun was just setting when he stepped out of Thomas’ apartment and into the cool New York night. He wanted to call Iggy, to get an update on the disguise runes, but Iggy was probably working, and even if he was taking a break he’d only yell at Alex for interrupting. On the bright side, he wouldn’t yell at Alex for staying out late. That gave him all night to go through Thomas’ workshop.

He pulled up his collar against the wind and set off toward the five-and-dime whistling a tune.

“Well you’re in a good mood,” Evelyn’s voice came from behind him. “Did you learn anything?”

Alex turned and found Thomas’ sister coming up the sidewalk behind him. Her dark curly hair blew sideways in the wind and she was trying valiantly to keep a broad-brimmed hat on her head. She wore a flowing white blouse with a tight, black skirt that went down to her knees.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asked, delighted to see her.

“Between you and the FBI, Thomas’ place is quite a mess,” she said. “If he’s… if he’s really dead, I want to collect his things. You know, family pictures, heirlooms, that sort of thing. It’s just junk, really, but it’s all I’ve got left.”

Alex felt like a heel. When he didn’t speak, Evelyn grinned sadly.

“It’s okay,” she said. “What are you doing here? Did you find something?”

“I did.” Alex turned and pointed to the five-and-dime. “Your brother had his rune workshop in the building next to that store. I’m on my way to see what’s there. Maybe I can find out something about his mysterious girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Evelyn said, a look of interest crossing her face. “Thomas never said he had a girlfriend.”

“Her name’s Becky,” Alex said. “That’s all I know.”

“Could she be the reason he’s dead?” Evelyn’s voice trembled, and Alex put his hand on her shoulder.

“Right now I don’t even know her last name,” he said. “Let me look around Thomas’ workshop and I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“No,” she said, and shook her head. “I’m coming with you.”

Alex thought about what his ghostlight might reveal — Thomas’ shadow on the wall. He didn’t want to hurt Evelyn any more that she had been. On the other hand, she deserved truth.

“All right,” he said. “But I go in first and you don’t follow until I call for you.”

She folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with a hard stare. When he didn’t relent, she said, “All right.”

The stairway next to the five-and-dime went up to a long, straight hallway on the second floor of a plain-looking building. Windows filled the left hand wall, showing a view of the five-and-dime’s roof and the street beyond. Doors were set along the opposite wall at regular intervals. Only one of them bore the triangle and eyeball symbol of a runewright, right above a sign that advertised office hours from seven to ten PM, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

“It’s locked,” Evelyn said, trying the door.

Alex had been expecting that, so he pulled his rune book from his jacket pocket and flipped to the back. That was where he kept the rarer, more expensive runes. When he got to a triangular one with what looked like a deformed duck inside, he stopped and tore it out.

“What’s that?” Evelyn asked.

“Something I’m not supposed to know,” Alex said, licking the paper and sticking it to the doorknob. Lighting a match from the book in his pocket, he touched it to the paper. The rune glowed bright orange as it disappeared in fire and the door lock opened with an audible clack.

“That’s amazing,” Evelyn said as Alex opened the door. “You must be able to get in anywhere you want.”

“Not really,” Alex said, tucking his rune book back in his pocket. “That rune costs ten bucks to make. Not to mention that what I just did is breaking and entering.”

“Not with me here,” Evelyn said. “I’m the owner’s sister, after all.” She reached over and flicked a switch on the wall, filling the room with light from the magelight crystals hanging on wires from the ceiling. “See,” she said. “I’m helping already.”

Thomas’ workshop was a complete contrast from his apartment; of course, his apartment had been ransacked. The workshop looked like an advertisement for runewright shops. Three workbenches stood in the center of the space; the one on the right had a blotter pad on it. A freestanding set of drawers occupied one side, where pencils and penknives would be kept, with a wire rack on the other, filled with pot after pot of ink. Along the back were two stacks of trays that held paper.

The workbench on the left had a gas canister below it with a long rubber tube that ran up through holes in the tabletop to burners. A maze of glass tubes, distillers, evaporators, and extractors were set up and ready to brew the special inks Thomas used in his work. None of the glass was dirty or smudged.

The middle workbench was completely empty, but based on the scorch marks and scoring on the top, Alex guessed it was where Thomas tested his runes and refined them.

Along the walls stood orderly shelves holding neatly stacked containers, cabinets full of materials, and cases full of books. An industrial sink stuck out from the wall in the back, next to a door that Alex assumed went to a bathroom. In the far corner there was a small workbench up against the wall with a hot plate and a coffee pot on it and a set of cupboards overhead. A comfortable-looking reading chair and lamp stood to one side, with a neatly made bed on the other. Apparently Thomas was prepared if he had to work late. No sense waking Mrs. Jefferson up by coming in after midnight.

Now this is the workshop of a bookkeeper.

“Well, this is it, I guess,” Evelyn said. “What are we looking for?”

“First, I need to find what your brother was working on,” Alex said, approaching the middle workbench. Set into the bench’s top were four brass triangles that pointed out, like the corners of a square. Thomas would slip the corners of his drawing paper under those to keep it in place when he wrote or activated his runes.

Based on the position of the writing equipment on the end desk, Thomas was used to working on the opposite side of the workbench, so Alex circled around. On the back side, a drawer was set just beneath the top. Pulling it open, he found the large square drawing pad that fit the brass holders on the bench top, a box of matches, and a worn and dog-eared notebook.

He set the pad and the notebook on the workbench, then shut the drawer. He wanted to restore the last thing Thomas had drawn, like he’d done with the map in Jerry Pemberton’s apartment, but he’d need his kit for that, so he set it aside.

“What’s that?” Evelyn asked, peeking around his side to look at the book.

Alex opened it and found page after page of the finding rune from the Archimedean Monograph. Each one was slightly different with copious notes about the things Thomas had tried while attempting to unlock its secrets. Alex turned to the last written page.

“I’ve done it,” he read. “I’ve finally cracked the damn thing. For a while there, I thought it would drive me mad, but I won. The solution was staring me right in the face the whole time. I knew the rune was written out of phase, but it’s also upside down. Once I reversed it, everything made sense. I’m exhausted, so I don’t dare try writing it now; I’d probably make a mistake and blow myself up. I’ll go home and come back tomorrow. With any luck I’ll have the monograph when Becky comes to see me. Won’t she be surprised! This is the best day of my life!”

Alex closed the notebook and set it back down on the workbench.

“Is that it?” Evelyn asked. “What does it mean?”

“It means your brother is dead,” Alex said. “I’m sorry.”

Evelyn swayed and Alex had to grab her before she fell.

“I’m sorry,” she said, clinging to his shirt. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and she rubbed furiously at her eyes, smearing her mascara. “I knew he was gone, I…I just didn’t want to believe it.”

She stepped away from him, but her knees buckled, and Alex had to grab her again.

“You’d better lie down,” he said, leading her over to the neat bed in the corner. Once he had her situated, he went to the cupboard over the sink and searched until he found a clean washrag. After running some cold water on it, he wrung it out and folded it, placing it on Evelyn’s forehead.

“Now lie there until you feel better,” he said.

She thanked him and he returned to Thomas’ notebook. The next time Alex looked up, the clock on the wall told him it was eleven twenty-two. He’d been sitting on the stool behind the workbench reading, re-reading, and re-re-reading Thomas’ quest to solve the Archimedean Monograph’s finding rune. Alex could see what Thomas had been trying to do and scribbled copious notes under and around the ones Thomas had made. It seemed to Alex that Thomas had been on the right track, but just hadn’t possessed the knowledge or skill to fully unscramble the rune.

He checked on Evelyn and found her asleep on the bed. Taking the opportunity of not being watched, Alex chalked a door onto a bare patch of wall and opened his vault. Normally he’d never open his vault in front of someone other than Iggy or Leslie, but he wanted to get his kit and have a more thorough look around Thomas’ workshop. An hour later, Alex called it quits.

The lab was just as clean as it appeared in normal light. Silverlight revealed plenty of fingerprints and signs that the workshop was used regularly, but there was no sign of blood, and no indication that anything other than sleeping had ever happened in the bed. Some of the books were more used than others, but none of them contained hidden compartments or scraps of paper.

All was as it should be.

Finally Alex pulled out his ghostlight burner and lit it. He’d been avoiding this moment, but with Evelyn asleep he’d best do it now. The multi-lamp cast its greenish glow around the room until it fell on the back wall. There, reaching out from where Alex stood and running up the wall, was the shadow of a man. It ran over the bookshelf and the little kitchen counter with the hotplate. The form showed a man with his hands thrown up over his face, as if shielding his eyes from a flash bulb he hadn’t seen coming.

It was all that remained of Thomas Rockwell.

Alex put his hand on his forehead and pinched it. He’d been without food, liquor, or a cigarette in quite a while and it had given him a pounding headache. The beam of his lantern fell across Evelyn’s sleeping form as he lifted it to extinguish the ghostlight burner. She stirred and Alex quickly blew out the flame. The light no longer illuminated her, but he could still see her in his mind. Even disheveled, with her makeup a mess, she was beautiful.

He sighed and returned the gear to his bag. A small wooden box was tucked into one end of the bag and Alex withdrew it, setting it on the workbench quietly. Inside was a flask with a nice single malt scotch that he’d pilfered from Iggy’s liquor cabinet. Usually this was his reward for a case solved and a job well done, but in this case, he’d make an exception. Evelyn wanted her brother found, and he’d done that. She wanted to know who killed him, and he knew that now, too. Whoever the mysterious Becky was, she’d brought Thomas the Monograph pages. She set his feet on the path that ultimately lead to his death.

Removing the cup from the top, Alex opened the flask and poured out two fingers of the amber liquid.

Becky had torn Thomas’ place apart looking for his notebook. She wanted to see how he’d attempted to solve the rune, maybe use the notes to entice the next patsy she conned into looking for the Monograph. It was the only thing she could have been looking for. Thomas copied the original Monograph pages into his lore book, and they weren’t here in the workshop, so Becky must still have them.

“She’s miles away by now,” he said, draining the tiny tin cup and refilling it from the flask.

“Who?” Evelyn’s voice drifted to him out of the semi-darkness. He’d turned off some of the lights when he’d used his lamp in order to see better. Evelyn sat up on the bed and brushed her raven hair out of her face. She looked frightened for a moment, her tired mind not recognizing her surroundings for a moment, then she stood and walked to where Alex sat at the workbench.

“Can I have one of those?” she said, pointing at the tin cup.

Alex nodded and stood, offering her the stool. She sat and he went to the cupboards over the table that had the hot plate, returning a moment later with a glass. He set it next to his tin cup and poured whiskey in both.

Evelyn drained hers in one go, then tapped the glass with her finger. Alex refilled it and she drained it again.

“You’re behind,” she said, indicating the tin cup. Alex refilled her glass again, then raised his cup.

“To Thomas,” he said.

She smiled a grateful smile and they both drank.

“You’ve been wonderful,” she said, putting her glass back, upside-down. “Thank you.”

Alex poured himself another whisky and sipped at it, nursing it. “I still haven’t found the person responsible for Thomas’ death,” he said, picking up the notebook. “But this is what she wanted. I might be able to use it as bait to lure her out, but I suspect she’s headed for the hills.”

“You mean the girlfriend,” Evelyn said, and Alex nodded. She looked away. “If she wants the notebook so bad,” she said, her voice hard, “I want you to burn it.”

“If that’s what you want,” Alex said, finishing his drink. Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

“I just want all this to be over,” she said in a small voice. She wobbled on her feet and Alex put his arm around her waist to steady her. She buried her face in his chest.

She felt good in his arms.

He looked down at her and she raised up, pressing her lips to his. It wasn’t a chaste peck or a gesture of gratitude but a fiery, pulsating need. She needed to feel alive, needed to be held. Alex pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together. He didn’t know if he’d initiated the kiss or if she’d done it. All he knew was that it felt right and she tasted sweet. A minute later he bent down and picked her up, carrying her toward the bed. He was sure she’d tell him to stop before he reached it, but she didn’t.