Chapter 5: The Missing Player

Mara called the storage facility before opening. She gave the claim number printed on the ticket, without her name.

"There is a parcel associated with that number," the clerk said. "The person who deposited it must provide the release word."

"Can you tell me when it was deposited?"

"Three weeks ago. That's all I'm authorized to say."

Three weeks ago: the same week Evan had initialed the shelf move. Mara wrote the date beside his initials in her copy of the inventory.

She tried the title of the missing book as the release word. Wrong.

Knight.

Wrong again. The clerk warned her there would be no further attempts by phone. Mara thanked her before she could waste another guess.

June arrived carrying two breakfast sandwiches. Mara told her about the ticket, the book and Luca. June listened without interrupting.

"You trust him?" June asked.

"I trust that he didn't ask his company to look at the building. The rest is still being tested."

"What are you going to do?"

"Find what Granddad kept copies of."

They searched the upstairs cabinet together. Mara found catalog cards in her grandfather's hand, a box of bookplates, and a set of index slips marked with tiny drawings of chess pieces. The black knight slips listed purchases and private valuations. One bore the name Moretti, followed by an old account number and the word

duplicate

. Its matching folder was absent.

At noon, Walter called from the reading room. A man had come in, browsed for less than a minute, and asked whether the antique chess manual was for sale. Walter said Mara was busy. The man left without buying anything.

Mara checked her entry notification. The front door had opened normally. The camera June had lent her showed the visitor's face beneath a baseball cap. It was not Evan. She saved the clip in two places and added the time to her police report.

Luca had respected her instruction. He had sent nothing since Thursday. Mara disliked how often she noticed.

That evening she called Tomas from Luca's card, using the office number printed beneath Luca's cell. "Tell Luca I have something relevant to Evan. He can come to the store after closing. One conversation. No security inside."

Tomas said he would relay it. Luca arrived at nine ten with no one at his shoulder. Through the window Mara saw Tomas remain across the street, exactly where she had asked him to be.

She showed Luca copies of the claim ticket, the index slip, and the camera image. The original ticket and catalog remained in the safe. Luca examined them without reaching for her phone.

"The account number predates Evan's employment," he said. "My father kept private registers during a dispute with a partner. Adrian managed the archive after he died."

"My grandfather had a duplicate. Why?"

"I don't know."

She believed he was telling the truth. "Somebody knew Evan came here for it."

"The visitor in the cap works for a document retrieval firm," Luca said after she enlarged the image. "Adrian used them before. That isn't proof he sent this man."

"Then get proof. I'll keep the image."

Luca nodded. "What do you want from me?"

It was the first time he'd asked her that before proposing a solution.

"I want the old register's title and any release word your father used. I want the results of your check on that plate. I want you to tell me if there is a specific threat, even if it disrupts your investigation. And if I say stop, you stop."

"The plate belonged to a leased car. The company that leased it also billed Moretti Properties. I have no proof who drove it. I should have told you sooner."

"Yes."

"I'll bring the archive list tomorrow. The other terms are fair."

Mara set her own terms in writing, along with the date and a list of items she had shared. He read it and signed at the bottom. Then he handed her a copy of the incident report Tomas had prepared on the sedan. No names were blacked out.

"Why paper?" she asked.

"You can keep it. I can't make it disappear from your phone."

She appreciated the awkward attempt at trust. She did not tell him so.

As he was leaving, Luca stopped by the chess table. "You haven't taken the scoreboard down."

"June made it. She likes the typography."

"Of course."

"This isn't a rematch," Mara said.

"I know."

The next day he delivered a photographed archive index. Mara checked its dates against her grandfather's cards. Several entries matched, but a set of shipping related valuations had no corresponding folder in either archive. Beside one missing entry, her grandfather had drawn a black knight and written a single word:

Foundry

.

The storage facility on Mara's ticket was called Foundry Storage.

She went there in person. The clerk accepted the release word and led her to a counter. The parcel was sealed in brown paper and addressed to her grandfather, who had been dead for four years. Mara photographed it before opening it.

Inside lay the missing chess manual. Its rear endpaper had been carefully lifted. Behind it, in a narrow pocket, sat a thin envelope labeled

Copy B

. The envelope was empty.

On the facing page Evan had written in pencil:

If they got here first, ask who paid to move the originals.

Mara checked the parcel's custody receipt. Someone had accessed it the previous morning under a temporary authorization. The signature on that line was not Evan's.

She called Luca. "I have the book. Someone took what's inside."

"Where are you?"

"At Foundry. I have their access record, too."

"Don't leave the receipt with them."

"I wasn't planning to."

Mara asked the clerk to certify her copy of the access record and preserve the facility's camera footage. She left carrying the book, the empty envelope and a name she had not yet shown Luca: the temporary authorization had been issued to Adrian Voss.