Alex shook his head and put the book back in his pocket. He’d have to spend some time studying it later. Right now he had other things to worry about. As soon as Danny got him the warehouse manifest, he’d be traipsing all over town looking for Pemberton’s murderer. Until then, however, he had time to call in a few favors and hopefully find out something about the elusive Charles Beaumont.
He thought about that on the crawler ride to his office. If Sister Gwen had been right that Beaumont was a thief, he couldn’t be the kind of penny-ante thief that would sell pocket watches to a hock-shop. His clothes were too good for that. Beaumont was a man of means. Not rich, or maybe rich and frugal, but either way it made him an entirely different class of thief than some pickpocket or street thug. Alex was looking for a man who stole from rich people and that made him either a stockbroker or a cat burglar.
If he actually is a thief.
Alex pushed that thought aside. If Beaumont was a cat burglar, that made him one of the rarest types of thieves. Few people plied that trade — the stakes were too high. Rich people had safes and guard dogs and, on occasion, armed security. Beaumont’s thefts might be easy to find, but anything about him personally would be rare as hen’s teeth.
He’d look into it, but first he had to see if Danny had any word on the warehouse manifest. As much as Alex wanted to find Beaumont and track Father Harry’s killer, his first loyalty had to be to Danny, not to mention keeping himself out of jail.
“Morning, Leslie,” he said, entering his office. She sat behind her desk reading the paper. He expected a sardonic comment from her on his lateness but instead her face was serious. She nodded toward the inner office and mouthed the word Feds.
Alex groaned. He pulled Thomas’ Lore book out of his pocket and placed it on her desk with a nod. She immediately picked it up and put it in her lap.
“Any messages?” Alex said, more loudly than usual.
“Nothing,” Leslie said, just as loud. “There are some gentlemen in your office.”
“Okay, I’m expecting a call from Danny. Just take a message.”
Alex straightened his jacket and took a deep breath. Feds in his office were never a good thing. At best they mucked about with his investigations and at worst they kept trying to put him in jail for getting in their way. Of course they never told him that he’d gotten in their way until after the fact. He plastered a smile on his face and opened the door.
Two men waited for him, and neither of them could rightly be called gentlemen. The elder of the two looked like a G.I. recruitment poster, square jaw, flat nose, blue eyes, and perfectly slicked dark hair. He wore a blue wool suit with a gray vest, and his shoes were well-polished. He sat in one of the chairs in front of Alex’s desk with a fedora in his lap that exactly matched his suit and a leather briefcase on the floor by his side.
The younger man stood behind Alex’s desk, looking through the appointment book. He was average in height with wavy blond hair and blue eyes in a handsome face. His suit was gray but not so well-tailored. Alex could see the bulge of his pistol under his right arm.
Lefty.
“Something I can help you find?” Alex asked the younger man. He favored Alex with a sneer and moved around to stand behind the dark-haired man.
“Mr. Lockerby,” the other man said, standing. “I’m Agent Davis.” He stuck out his hand and Alex shook it. “This is my nosy partner, Agent Warner.” Alex nodded at the younger man, but didn’t offer his hand.
“What can I do for you, Agent Davis?” he said, sitting behind his desk. “May I ask what agency you’re actually with?”
Davis reached into his jacket and produced a large wallet containing a badge with the letters FBI clearly printed on it.
“We’re here for your help, Mr. Lockerby,” Davis said, returning his badge to his pocket. “We need your expertise. One of our investigations came across some rune lore that, well, we’ve just never seen before. We were hoping you could identify them, maybe tell us if anyone you know uses them?”
“I can take a look, sure,” Alex said, shrugging. “But I can’t help you with who might use them.”
The young Agent curled his lip, but Davis was unfazed.
“I understand your reluctance to involve a fellow runewright in an FBI matter, Mr. Lockerby, but I assure you, this is very serious.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you, Agent Davis,” Alex said. “I said I couldn’t. Runewrights are a secretive lot. We don’t share our Lore with each other.”
Davis seemed to consider that for a moment, then he nodded.
“All right.” He reached into the briefcase at his feet and pulled out a manila folder, tossing it onto the desk. “Anything you can tell us about these would be greatly appreciated.”
Alex opened the folder and felt his blood freeze. Years of poker had conditioned him to keep emotions off his face so he just stared at the six photographs the folder contained. Each picture was of a complex rune, drawn on a single sheet of plain paper. Alex didn’t have to examine them closely — he already knew them. All of them appeared in the last pages of Thomas Rockwell’s Lore book. He paged through the pictures slowly, giving himself time to think. Each rune was exactly the same as it appeared in the blue book. There was no way that was a coincidence. What was Thomas mixed up in that brought out the Feds?
“I recognize three of these,” he said, being careful not to tell an outright lie. He put down three of the pictures so Davis could see them. “This is some kind of finding rune, this is a heavily modified life rune, and this one is some kind of protection rune. They’re more complex than anything I’ve ever seen before. I’d have to study them to tell you more.”
“You sure there’s nothing else you can tell us?” Warner said, speaking for the first time. He had a midwestern accent, Iowa or Illinois. Alex smiled.
“I didn’t say that. Let’s take a closer look.” He rose and went to the filing cabinet behind his desk. He pulled out a multi-lamp like the one in his kit and clipped a ghostlight burner into it.
“What’s that?” Davis asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.
“Well,” Alex said, igniting the burner with the touch tip lighter on his desk. “These are just photographs of runes,” he said, indicating the six pictures. “I can’t really judge how the magic was laid down without seeing the originals.” He pulled a set of mustard-yellow spectacles from a case in the file cabinet and clipped them onto his nose. “This light will let me see if the camera picked up anything.” Davis and Warner exchanged nervous glances at that, but Alex continued as if he didn’t notice. “It’s a long shot, I know, but I wouldn’t want you boys to think I didn’t do a good job.”
Alex sat back down and held each picture in the light, scrutinizing it as carefully as he dared. The lines that made up the runes had been written in magical ink, so they glowed brightly, but they were the same lines visible under normal light. He hadn’t been lying about this being a long shot; magic auras like the ones these runes possessed required special cameras and special film to capture. Still, it made him look thorough.
As he paged through them, he noticed a small line of script on the bottom right of the pages the runes had been drawn on. Pulling out a magnifier from his desk, he scrutinized each one. All of them seemed to be written in some foreign language until he recognized a number at the end of one line. It was the number seven, but written backwards. The text wasn’t foreign, it had been written on the back side of each page. Whoever drew the runes had made the notes with the same pen and magical ink.