Chapter 2 #3
But luck was actually on my side for once.
I didn’t hear anything. With one final heave, I hooked my arms over the edge and pulled myself through, emerging into the blessedly fresh air of the kitchen.
I silently slipped out of my boots and jacket and shoved them back down the chute to the garbage heap below.
No sense in tracking the compost smell through the house.
Ambrose’s nose would wake him before I made a single sound.
My shirt still carried a faint smell, but there was nothing to be done about that now. I padded across the kitchen, walked the thirty-two paces down the hall, and crouched in front of the Employer’s office, glad I had the entire floorplan memorized to the inch and could navigate it at night.
As I blindly pulled out my lockpicking set in the pitch darkness, a thought struck me. What if the Employer was inside? What if he only came when the rest of us had gone our separate ways and Ambrose was sleeping?
I shrugged the thought away. The Employer had never been seen before, there were no other lights on, and no one had entered the building since I’d left.
Wherever the Employer was, it wasn’t here.
I refocused on the lock, barely visible in the heavy darkness.
With only the tiniest scraping sound, I inserted the first tool into the keyhole and began jiggling it around to find the tumbler.
The lock was a moderately difficult one, hard enough that a novice would find it impossible, but simple enough that I was able to manage. The trick was easing the tension just enough without forcing it.
It took several tense minutes of fidgeting with the lock and adjusting the tools based on feeling alone.
Each second felt like an hour, and a bead of sweat slid down my neck as I worked.
I tried to time each scrape of the tools in the lock with one of Ambrose’s soft snores from the next room, praying that he would stay asleep.
I wouldn’t be able to escape in time if he woke up and ran to discover the source of the noises.
At long last, there was a satisfying click and the door opened.
I tensed, half expecting the Employer to jump out or announce himself, then I gave a jump as Ambrose let out a thunderous snore. The door began to creak as I pushed it open, so I paused until Ambrose resumed his usual snores before quietly entering and locking the door behind me.
Once in, I lit a candle and held it aloft.
Somehow, I’d expected the Employer’s office to be more impressive, something worthy of such a secretive man.
The study smelled faintly of leather and lavender.
Bookshelves lined the far wall, their spines gleaming faintly in the low light that the candle was throwing off.
There were several filing cabinets, a desk, an armchair, and only a few sparse pieces of dusty furniture that looked like they’d rarely, if ever, been used.
I frowned.
What was going on? The bounties were being paid, so the Employer had to be real.
The money came from somewhere. Did The Employer ever come to the safehouse?
More likely they were simply at a different location and relayed information via letters.
I nodded to myself, satisfied. The Syndicate had more than one safehouse sprinkled throughout other countries.
The Employer likely had to visit many. He didn’t need to only stay here.
I pushed the matter from my mind. I wasn’t here to hypothesize about the comings and goings of whoever coordinated and paid most of the bounties.
I was here for information, and most fortunately, Ambrose’s meticulous nature had spilled into this room as well.
All filing cabinets were clearly labeled and well organized.
I pulled open the R cabinet. Files for Rathbone, Renshaw, and Revenge were among them.
I silently chuckled as I looked at the fat Revenge file and skimmed past it.
Apparently, both the Employer and I shared the same deep-seated desire.
Now, where was Roderick? There was Rook I must’ve lost track of time.
I chanced a glance out the window and saw the inky blackness fading to a smooth, velvety blue.
The early pinks and oranges of sunrise would come soon; I was out of time.
I gave one last look, then, a little regretfully, replaced the file exactly as I’d found it. I could see the pages perfectly in my mind, down to the way the corner of one sheet had been folded. Before leaving, I crossed to the window on the far side of the room and withdrew the pomegranate’s rind.
With a slight smirk, I plucked two of the remaining seed pods free and let them fall to the floor near the window.
They landed with a barely audible sound against the rug, then I dug my nail into one of the pods so the dark juice stained my fingertips, which I brushed against the windowsill and along the desk.
There. That ought to be enough incriminating evidence.
I unlatched the window and slid it open as silently as possible, then heaved myself through to the open air beyond.
As tempting as it was to leave immediately, I wasn’t done yet.
I kept to the shadows and tiptoed back around to retrieve my jacket and shoes from where they’d fallen into the compost heap.
My boots were half covered in something slimy, but I gritted my teeth together and held my breath as I pulled them on.
I went back to the window and made sure to leave footprints walking toward the Serenade Inn, where Elvin liked to stay, before hopping a fence, stripping my boots off, and backtracking toward my own pathetic lodgings.
A crisp breeze sent a waft of my jacket’s smell up to me and I grimaced. I would need to burn the jacket and boots, then, once I had a few hours’ sleep, I would purchase new boots from the cobbler.
I came to the old inn I enjoyed frequenting and crept up to my room to find the embers of last night’s fire still waiting for me in the hearth. I tossed the jacket and boots into the fireplace and stoked the embers, waiting for the jacket and boots to light.
Once they did, they filled the room with a foul, overripe scent that scorched my nostrils so I ran to open a window and vent the stench before it attracted the innkeeper’s attention.
As the final bits of the jacket curled to ash, I added another log to the fire and stripped to bathe, pulling off my shirt and unwinding the long swathe of fabric from around my chest.
The bath was a short, efficient one, but even that short amount of time was enough to make me feel uncomfortably vulnerable.
Even if a situation arose in which I wanted to look like the woman I really was, it was too risky.
I hurriedly re-wrapped my chest and dressed in clean clothes so I could drop into bed, sighing with relief as my familiar disguise wrapped me in security that nothing else could bring.
I turned over in bed and punched my pillow to flatten out some of the lumps and frowned at the sky as it faded into lighter, warmer colors. Roderick’s file hadn’t been as helpful as I’d hoped for, but just before I fell asleep, one bit of information kept coming back to me.
He’d been seen accompanied by a young man with red hair, dressed all in green.
It looked like I had a lead, after all.