“Yet someone thought it was worth stealing from my dad,” North said.
Gwendolyn sighed. “I understand your concern, Mr. Chastain. I wish I could help you but I honestly don’t know anything else about the radio.”
Sierra narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “Did Mr. Chastain show interest in any of the other artifacts in your collection?”
Gwendolyn raised her brows. “Yes, he did, as a matter of fact.” She shot North an icy glare and cleared her throat. “He made another purchase.”
North stilled. “Why didn’t you mention that?”
“Because you asked about the object he took with him when he left my shop,” Gwendolyn said, a little too sweetly. “And because you were starting to annoy me.”
Sierra cleared her throat. “Moving right along, please tell us about the other artifact that Mr. Chastain bought.”
Gwendolyn turned back to her. “Of course. I was going to tell you anyway before you left the shop. Mr. Chastain said he intended to return to pick up the other artifact today. But he added that if he didn’t come by, someone from the Foundation might show up to collect it.”
“What happened to the other relic he bought?” North demanded.
“Your father asked me to store it in my vault until he came back for it. If you’ll wait here, I’ll go downstairs and get it.”
North felt his pulse kick up. “We’ll wait.”
Gwendolyn whisked out from behind the counter and disappeared into a back room. North heard a door open and close. He knew Swan was on her way down into her basement.
Sierra looked at him. “Are you thinking the same thing I’m thinking?”
“My father knew or suspected that someone was following him,” North said. “He bought two artifacts—the one he took with him was a decoy. The other one he left here at the shop until he thought it was safe to come back for it.”
“Yes,” Sierra said. “That sounds logical.”
The door in the back room opened and closed again. Gwendolyn Swan appeared. She had a black metal rod in her hand. It was about a foot long.
“Don’t ask me what this is,” she said. “I suspect it was part of a machine or a tool. I asked your father why he wanted it. He said he thought you might find it interesting. Something about you having an engineer’s mind.”
She handed the rod to North. The instant his fingers closed around it he felt a familiar rush of recognition. He tightened his grip on it.
“Yes,” he said. “I am interested in it.”
Gwendolyn eyed him. “Any idea what it is?”
“You’re right. It was probably part of an old lab machine. I find vintage engineering artifacts very intriguing. I collect them.”
“It’s all yours,” Gwendolyn said.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” North asked.
“Nope. Now, if we’re done here, I’ve got work to do.”
Sierra smiled at Gwendolyn. “I do have one more question.”
Gwendolyn tipped her head slightly. “Yes?”
“The crate of artifacts that you bought, the one that contained the radio and the metal rod, I assume it was delivered by a go-between?”
“Matt Harper,” Gwendolyn said. “One of my regulars.”
“Thanks,” Sierra said. “By the way, I got your message. When I finish this job I will be glad to authenticate your artifact.”
“Right,” Gwendolyn said. “Thanks.”
Sierra glanced at North. “We can go now.”
He was still trying to process the information she had extracted from Swan. Now they had a name. Matt Harper.
“All right,” he said.
She led the way out of the shop. North waited until they were well clear of the door before he spoke again.
“I had a few more questions,” he said.
“I think Gwendolyn Swan told you the truth. She doesn’t know anything else that would be useful. Our best bet now is Matt Harper.”
“The go-between who transported the crate that contained the rod and the radio?”
“Right. I’ll contact him. He may not know anything helpful but I think he’ll talk to us—or, at least, to me.”
“Why?”
“Matt owes me,” Sierra said. “Among go-betweens, repaying favors is not just good karma, it’s essential for staying in business. What the heck is that metal rod?”
“I have no idea,” North said. “But I do know one thing for certain.”
“What?”
“It belonged to my grandfather.”
“Griffin Chastain?” Sierra said. “Really? You’re sure of that?”
“I can feel his paranormal signature. Dad must have felt it, too. It isn’t the radio that’s the family heirloom. It’s this relic.”
“So we know it’s valuable but we don’t know what it is.”
“No,” North said. “But I’ll figure it out.”
“Hmm.”
He looked at her. “What?”
“Griffin Chastain was a famous magician, wasn’t he?”
“So?”
Sierra smiled. “It just occurred to me that the rod looks a lot like a magic wand. What do you want to do while we wait for Matt to get back to me?”
“Track down every dealer and collector here in Seattle who might have heard rumors of a recently stolen Bluestone artifact.”
“That will definitely keep us busy for the rest of the day and half the night.”
CHAPTER 10
Gwendolyn waited until the door closed before she came out from behind the counter and walked to the front window of the shop. She watched Chastain and Sierra leave the alley and disappear around the corner.
Satisfied her visitors were gone, she locked the door and started back toward the counter. Midway across the room she stopped to contemplate the vintage camera. She could sense the heavy energy infused into the machine. She knew it was still functional but she could not activate it.
Sierra had definitely sensed the camera’s vibe but it was impossible to tell if she could figure out how to use it.
Gwendolyn went back behind her desk and picked up the old landline phone. When it came to calls to her sister, low-tech was far more secure than high-tech.
Eloisa Swan answered immediately, which indicated she was in her office at the pharmaceutical company where she was employed as a research scientist.
“Someone responded to the camera’s vibe?” she asked.
If she felt free to mention the artifact it meant she was alone.
“A go-between named Sierra Raines,” Gwendolyn said. “She’s handled a couple of deliveries for me lately. I was going to hire her to check out the camera. She just did by accident. She’s good. Smart. Honest. Reliable. I’m sure she detected the energy but I couldn’t tell if she was able to resonate with it.”
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t as if I could come right out and ask her. She wasn’t alone. Unfortunately she was here with a new client who happens to be from the Foundation. North Chastain.”
“Shit. You’ve had another visit from someone from the Foundation? That makes, what? Three of them in the past month?”
There was a sharp note in Eloisa’s voice. Gwendolyn understood. She was a little anxious, too. There had been a lot of attention from the Foundation recently. That was not good news.
A couple of weeks earlier Slater Arganbright, one of Victor Arganbright’s many nephews, had arrived in Seattle on the trail of a killer. Gwendolyn had been unnerved when he had walked into her shop accompanied by Catalina Lark from the Lark & LeClair investigation agency. The pair had asked for information regarding a certain hot artifact.
She did not mind doing occasional business with the Foundation—Victor Arganbright always paid his bills—but she did not like getting entangled in a mur
der investigation, especially one that involved rumors of Vortex. Arganbright and Lark had closed their case without realizing how close they had come to discovering the link between Swan Antiques and Vortex, but it had been a near thing.
Now, twice within the past twenty-four hours, she had found herself dealing with two more Foundation agents, Chandler Chastain and his son, North. It was enough to make anyone with an ounce of psychic-grade intuition uneasy.
“I don’t think we need to worry about the Chastains,” she said. “There is nothing to indicate they are chasing a Vortex rumor. Chandler Chastain purchased a couple of artifacts from me yesterday. He took one with him and left the other one behind. Said he’d be back for the second one. He also said that if he didn’t return I was to give it to whoever came around asking questions. Evidently someone attacked Chastain last night and took the first relic. He was badly injured but not killed. North Chastain is trying to find the person responsible.”
“And his first stop was your shop? That’s not good.”
“I did what I told his father I would do—I gave North the second artifact. Both relics are now out of my shop, and so is Chastain. Good riddance. There’s no reason for me to be involved any further in the Foundation investigation.”
“What kind of relics did you sell to Chandler Chastain?”
“Neither seemed important. One was a vintage radio. It may or may not have been from one of the lost labs. That’s the one Chandler Chastain took with him.”
“The one that was stolen?”
“Right. The second artifact was just an old metal rod. Probably a machine part. It might have come from one of the labs, but other than that there was nothing unique about it. A low-level collectible.”
“You’re the expert on artifacts,” Eloisa said. “But if someone attacked Chandler Chastain because of that radio, I think you’d better assume it had some unique qualities.”
“Maybe. But even if the radio is more interesting than it appeared to be, there’s nothing to link it to the old Vortex lab or to our project. There’s no reason why the Foundation should take any more interest in my shop. We need to focus on the camera.”
“I agree. It’s our best lead. But this princess-and-the-pea experiment of yours is not working.”
“It’s only been on display for a few days.”
“We’re wasting time, Gwen.”
“It’s too soon to give up the test. Sierra Raines obviously sensed the energy in the camera. If she can do that, there will be others like her.”
Setting the camera out in the middle of the sales floor, where it was surrounded by fakes and reproductions, had been a tactic born of desperation. The plan was to see if one of the clients who frequented Swan Antiques responded to the device. Gwendolyn had been hopeful at first. But now she was afraid Eloisa was right. The princess-and-the-pea experiment might have to continue for a very long time before the right talent walked into the room.
Still, what choice did they have? It wasn’t as if they could place an ad on one of the online sites devoted to the paranormal. Seeking high-level talent who can figure out how to operate vintage camera. Oh, and by the way, once the artifact has been unlocked we will have to kill you.
“I’m starting to wonder if the camera was tuned to the psychic signature of the original owner,” Eloisa said, her tone very grim.
“Don’t go there,” Gwendolyn said. “If that’s the case we’ve got an even bigger problem than we do now. It means the only person who can activate it is a direct descendant of the owner.”
“I know,” Eloisa said.
“Shit,” Gwendolyn said.
There was a short silence.
“Well, on the upside, at least we know the identity of the descendant,” Gwendolyn said.
“That’s not exactly an upside,” Eloisa said. “You’re talking about taking an enormous risk.”
“I agree. I’ll keep the camera on the sales floor a little while longer and hope that we get lucky.”
“One more thing before we hang up,” Eloisa said. “Are you finished decoding the diary?”
“Almost. Just a few more pages.”
“Anything new we can use?”
“I think so,” Gwendolyn said. “Aurora Winston notes that she was able to overcome the last technical hurdle in tuning the weapons. Evidently the initial experiments provided proof of concept but a new problem came to light. Of the three people who were able to activate and fire the devices, two of them suffered immediate and severe blowback issues.”
“What happened?”
“When you fire a conventional gun there’s always a recoil,” Gwendolyn said. “Apparently something similar happened when they fired the prototype Vortex weapons. But instead of a physical kickback the subjects got a shock wave of paranormal energy that disrupted their auras.”
“What were the effects?”
“Both subjects were initially rendered unconscious. When they woke up they were disoriented. Hallucinating. One went insane and became paranoid. He murdered two lab techs before he could be stopped. The second one suffered a complete loss of his paranormal senses. He took his own life.”
“What about the third subject?” Eloisa said. “The one who didn’t suffer complications.”
“Winston writes that she considered him a success for a while. She planned to conduct further research on him. But he deteriorated rapidly, slipped into a coma and died.”
“Damn, damn, damn,” Eloisa muttered. “Did Winston indicate that she considered further research useless?”
“No,” Gwendolyn said. “Just the opposite. Wait until you hear how she decided to move forward.”
“Talk to me, Gwen.” There was renewed excitement in Eloisa’s voice. The scientist in her was intrigued.
“Winston writes that the setbacks made her realize she needed an entirely different approach to the problem of weaponizing paranormal energy. She came up with a bold new theory and was starting to run some experiments when the orders came to shut down the Bluestone Project, including Vortex.”
“Fortunately for us it’s impossible to destroy all evidence of a government project the size and scope of Bluestone.”
“Someone certainly tried,” Gwendolyn said.
Most of the people associated with the old lab had died under mysterious circumstances within months after it was shut down. Aurora Winston may have been the only one who survived, and that was probably because she had managed to disappear with her young daughter, Gwendolyn and Eloisa’s mother.
Aurora Winston had ended her days in an insane asylum. Gwendolyn and Eloisa had not discovered the truth about their grandmother until they found her private journal while cleaning out their mother’s attic.
Gwendolyn told Eloisa about Aurora Winston’s solution to the problem of weaponizing paranormal energy. When she was finished there was a lengthy silence while Eloisa processed the information.
“Brilliant,” she finally whispered. She sounded genuinely awed. “Grandmother was fucking brilliant. We have to find that old lab, Gwen.”
“We’re getting close,” Gwendolyn said. “I’m sure of it. The camera is the key.”
A muffled thud reverberated through the floorboards beneath her feet. She sighed.
“Sounds like I’ve caught a rat in my trap,” she said. “I’d better go take care of it. Talk to you soon.”
“Right. Oh, and Gwen?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
“You, too.”
Gwendolyn hung up, crossed the room and unlocked the door that led to the basement sales floor.
At the top of the stairs she paused to shut the door. The basement was illuminated in an eerie glow thanks to the large number of hot artifacts crammed together in the windowless space.
She flipped the light switch at the top of the stairs. The regular gal
lery lighting came up, revealing the glass and steel display cases.
She descended the stairs and made her way through the crowded space to the rattrap. Sure enough, there was a body on the floor. She did not recognize the raider.
She donned her leather apron and a pair of gloves and went through the dead man’s pockets. She found a wallet. The driver’s license identified the raider as one Harold Molland. The address was a town in California.
Gwendolyn looked at the four-foot-tall clockwork doll dressed in a vintage nurse’s outfit, complete with perky white cap, white dress and white shoes and stockings. The doll held a syringe in one mechanical hand.
The rattrap was efficient and lethal. The nurse was stationed near the concealed tunnel. The syringe in the doll’s hand was filled with a drug that stopped the heart within seconds. The trap was triggered by anyone who tried to enter the basement via the tunnel.
For the most part the local raiders avoided Swan Antiques. No one knew exactly what happened to those who attempted to steal from the shop, but it was no secret in the Pacific Northwest underworld that security on the premises was tight.
“He’s not from around here,” Gwendolyn said to the clockwork nurse. “That’s not a good sign. It means the rumors about Vortex are spreading beyond Seattle.”
The clockwork doll did not respond. Gwendolyn refilled the syringe and reset the old-fashioned spring mechanism in the platform. When it came to basic security, sometimes the old-fashioned ways were the most effective.
When she was finished she went back up the stairs, picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. A gravelly voice answered.
“Pest Control.”
“I need service as soon as possible,” Gwendolyn said.
“Again? You’d think the rats would learn to avoid your place.”
“I’m sure real rats would learn. But we’re talking about the human variety. They aren’t that smart.”
CHAPTER 11
Another unstable client.
Sierra stifled a groan. Just what I do not need.
But a professional go-between had to overlook the minor inconveniences. She had already come to the conclusion that the vast majority of people connected to the underground market were weird in one way or another. Some were obsessive. Most were secretive and reclusive. A few were violent. And then there were the flat-out crazies. Figuring out how to handle the odd clients who came her way was a job requirement.
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