by Craig Zerf
Bastian guided Emily through the intricacies of the London underground, buying her an Oyster card, ensuring that she had enough money on it and making sure that she knew where to stand on the escalators.
Just before they had left the apartment, Bastian had handed Emily a leather wallet. Inside was a warrant card with her rank, name and number. According to the card she was a DS, detective sergeant, in the Special Branch.
According to Bastian it was a genuine card, although if push came to shove and someone looked more deeply into it they would discover that she wasn’t actually a member.
But the Jamaican assured her that it wouldn’t get to that, so she need not worry. They merely carried the cards as it gave them a reason to question people without raising suspicion.
Under an hour later they were sitting in the Emporium’s reception area, waiting for the owner.
And when he walked into the room he was nothing like Emily had expected. This was no insipid, eccentric, bespectacled purveyor of antiquities. Instead, the man who walked in towered over both her and Bastian. Around twenty three years old, his brown hair short and clean but a little bit shaggy, like he had simply ran his hands through it instead of using a comb. He wore a dark single breasted suit that had obviously been handmade, as had his Oxfords. A pale blue shirt offset his blue eyes, so pale as to resemble flecks of shattered ice. But even the well-cut lines of the suit could not disguise the cords of muscle that stood out in ridges on his arms and shoulders.
He walked towards them, confident and assured. His movements controlled. Economical. Graceful yet somehow unrefined. As if he was purposefully keeping himself in check.
‘William Townsend,’ he greeted, shaking Bastian by the hand.
‘Thank you for meeting with us, Sir William. I am DI, detective inspector, Bastian Miller and this is my associate, DS, detective sergeant, Emily Hawk.’
William grasped Emily’s hand and she had to stop herself gasping. It was as though someone had run an electric current through her. And sudden images of his shirtless torso filled her mind. She blushed a high red and pulled her hand back like a scorched cat.
Sir William raised an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry, miss Hawk,’ he said, his voice a low, husky growl. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Of course,’ snapped Emily. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
William looked away, obviously slightly taken aback by her waspish reaction.
Emily felt an immediate urge to apologize. Grab him by the arm. Pull him towards her. But she quashed the feelings and tried desperately to assume a calm and professional demeanor.
God, Emily, she scolded herself. Show some control. What the hell is wrong with you?
‘Sir William,’ interjected Bastian. ‘I wonder, could we talk about the break in?’
‘Of course. Not much to tell. I’ve given your lot at the station a copy of the CCTV. Seems to have been on the blink. Kept skipping forward or something. Pity. Although they didn’t take anything. Most likely just a bunch of youngsters looking to trash a place. A few breakages, mirrors, vases and such. All covered by insurance. Sorry, not much more that I can say. Obviously no one was here. Took place around midnight.’
‘So you’re absolutely sure that nothing was taken?’ Insisted Bastian.
William nodded.
‘Well then, that’s about it,’ said the Jamaican. ‘Oh, one last thing. Have you heard of any other similar robbery attempts in the area?’
‘No. Sorry, nothing that I know of, although I certainly wouldn’t take that as gospel. I don’t actually spend a lot of time at the shop.’
‘Thanks,’ said Bastian as he turned to leave, beckoning to Emily as he did so.
Emily nodded her goodbye to William and followed Bastian from the Emporium.
As she got to the door, however, the tall man hurried after them.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But if I don’t do this then I shall regret it for a very long time, of that I’m sure.’
Bastian looked at him quizzically, wondering what information he was going to give up now. ‘Go ahead, Sir William. What would you like to tell us?’
‘Well, nothing. I mean, nothing to tell.’ He looked a little abashed. ‘What I mean is…’ he hesitated and bit his bottom lip. ‘Miss Hawk,’ he continued. ‘I was just wondering if…perhaps you might…on the off chance…possibly be free tomorrow night. You know. To go out. Dinner. With me. And you of course. I mean…the both of us.’
Emily blushed again and then cursed herself internally for doing so.
‘Of course, Sir William,’ she said. ‘That would be great.’
The tall man looked disappointed. ‘Oh, well. Yes. Of course. Sorry, I just thought that it was worth an ask. You know. Nothing ventured and all that. Silly of me really.’
Emily laughed. ‘I said yes.’
William’s grin was a pleasure to behold as it spread over his face, lighting up his eyes and revealing his strong, white teeth. ‘Of course you did. Splendid. Right, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.’
‘Fine,’ agreed Emily.
‘Where?’ Asked William.
Emily gave him the address to the apartment in St Pancras and then she and Bastian took their leave.
As they walked away from the Emporium, towards the tube station Bastian chuckled under his breath. ‘You know, Emily,’ he said. ‘You can control that.’
‘What?’ Asked Emily, suddenly paranoid that Bastian had somehow perceived her visions of William’s naked torso or noticed her electric reaction to the tall man’s touch.
‘Blushing,’ he continued. ‘It’s simply a visible manifestation of the physiological rebound of the basic instinctual fight/flight mechanism, when physical action is not possible.’
‘I wasn’t blushing,’ she denied.
‘Course you were,’ affirmed Bastian.
‘Well what if I was,’ continued Emily. ‘You’re saying that it’s a flight or fight response. Not true, I didn’t want to fight William and I certainly didn’t feel an urge to run away.’
‘That was just a simplification,’ said Bastian. ‘What I meant was that it was triggered by an emotional stimulus. Fear, embarrassment, anxiety. Whatever, you figure out what emotion is causing it, once you know that then you can control it. Easily. After all, we are Shadowhunters. We’re meant to be able to control our emotions and stuff. So work on it.’
‘Up yours,’ grinned Emily. ‘I’ve got better things to worry about.’
‘True,’ laughed Bastian. ‘Tell you what, let’s split up. We need to visit as many antique places as we can. See if there have been any similar occurrences compared to the break in at the Emporium. I really want to know what that bunch of blood suckers were searching for. Obviously they didn’t find it at Sir William’s place, so odds are that they’ll keep looking. Unless our posh friend was lying, but I don’t think that he was. Anyway, you can take the opportunity on your date to grill him a bit more. See what you can get out of him.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Emily. ‘Okay, I’ll head this way and you go that way.
I reckon that we pop into any place that looks as if it sells old or interesting stuff. Check if they’ve had any break ins and question them as to what they’ve heard or what they might know about Sir William’s break in.’
‘Suits me,’ agreed the Jamaican. ‘Look, if you keep heading in that direction, eventually you’ll come to central London. Soho, Leicester Square, so on. It’s also going to get dark soon, around four o’clock. When you’re done, get a cab back to the apartment and we can consolidate our info there. Right?’
Emily gave a thumb up. ‘Right.’
Chapter 11