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Not from the last forty-eight hours. Whoever did this used the mental equivalent of a jackhammer and broke every memory up.
That suggests the spell stones were purchased sometime within that time period.
And might well mean that the DVR I’d found would have been erased. The other telepath would have skimmed the old man’s mind for any pertinent security information before mushing his memories.
Yes. Belle paused. But luck is with us, because the old man keeps a private record of all high-end spell stone sales in a safe in the other room.
As Samuel immediately left to investigate, I said, The other telepath would have picked that up in his sweep before erasure though, wouldn’t he?
Not if he was looking for standard security measures and records. It’s rare these days for someone to keep a handwritten personal account of sales. The old man did it for his larger cash sales. She paused again. Here’s an interesting tidbit—he’s done work for a Marlowe line.
Not mine, surely? My father was many things, but he wasn’t stupid enough to get involved in any way with gray magic. He was well aware that even a whiff of gray magic would forever tarnish his reputation.
She did the telepathic equivalent of a shrug. The information is sitting right on the edge of the destruction zone, so I’d have to do a deep dive into his memories to pull out a name and description.
I hesitated then shook my head. Samuel knows the old man is working with royal lines, so if it’s relevant to the case, he can dig for it. Is that it?
’Fraid so. As I said, it’s one big mess in there. It’s going to make pinning any charges on him rather hard, I would think.
Given the gray paraphernalia Samuel has already found, he’s going to face jail time regardless.
Which, given his age, will probably see out whatever time he has left.
I glanced around as Samuel reentered the room carrying one of those old-fashioned ledger books.
“It looks like luck is finally with us.” He placed the book on the table, then opened it at a tabbed page and ran his finger down to near the end. “These are all the entries for the last week. He sold two sets of primed diamond spell stones—well above market price, I might add—to one Russel Martingale.”
“I take it you know him?”
“You could say that.” Samuel’s voice was wry. “We’ve charged him multiple times over multiple offences but have never made anything major stick. The bastard is too cunning.”
“Is Russel a witch? Or a telepath?”
“Most brokers aren’t witches—in fact, many of them are magic immune to some degree. He is, however, telepathic, though not a particularly strong one.”
“He doesn’t have to be to make memories unreadable.”
“I take it that’s what he’s done to Martin here?”
I nodded. “Does the ledger say what spells were attached to the stone?”
He ran his finger across the line. “A fog barrier and, ah fuck, an incendiary explosive spell.”
I frowned. “Most government buildings are protected from such spells, aren’t they?”
“Yes, as are most high-profile residences. That doesn’t make them any less dangerous, particularly if they’re used as a diversionary tactic.”
“Then I guess we need to find this Russel Martingale before he has the chance to unleash that second spell.”
“I’m personally hoping that’s the spell they used to break through the basement and grab Julius. But I’ll put an APB on him and have his residences searched, although there’s a good chance he’s gone to ground.”
More than a good chance, I’d say, given he was working with our wraith. “There is another way.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Involving you, I take it?”
“Unless you’ve someone on your books gifted with psychometry—or can ask the PAC to provide you with someone ASAP—then yes.”
“We don’t, but I will contact PAC and see what they say.” He grimaced. “I’d rather keep you away from the front line as much as possible.”
