I climbed the creaky steps. As I neared the top landing I could hear a piano. Someone was hesitantly running through the chords from Satie’s Gymnopedie Number One. I paused on the landing. Cello sounds droned from another room farther down the corridor. As I passed the piano room I heard a muffled voice with a Slavic intonation giving corrections. I stopped outside 216 and listened for a moment. I could hear no sound from inside. It was right next door to 218 where Bathmore had to be. I could hear no music or voices coming from 218 so his student must not have arrived yet if that was indeed what Bathmore was doing here. He could be up to something else. If so, I needed to know what it was. There was no bolt lock on the door to 216, just a cheap knob set. I tried the handle. It was locked. I had a pick gun, a bump key, and the picks I had used to get into Bathmore’s building with me. I decided to try the bump key first. It made some noise but the loud violin from a couple of doors down would help. I inserted it into the key hole, gave it a bit of tension, and realized I needed something to tap it with. There was nothing nearby so I quickly removed my shoe and used the sole. On the second tap, the lock turned. I pulled the door open, verified that the room was empty, and stepped inside.
The space was about twelve by ten feet. It had a warped hardwood floor gray with age and lack of proper care, a window overlooking the roof of the building next door, and nothing else. I set my backpack down quietly and, seating myself on the floor, put my ear against the wall which was shared with Bathmore’s room next door. Eyes closed, I listened. At first, I heard nothing. After a minute, I thought I heard the sound of a mouse scurrying along inside the wall. Another minute passed and then I heard the sound of an occupied chair scraping over wood floor, as if someone had scooted an inch or two. I thought I heard muttering but couldn’t tell if it was real or my imagination. The sounds of violin and piano continued but muffled now. After maybe ten more minutes of the same sort of sounds I heard a sharp voice say “Damn it!” then the sound of a pencil or pen being tossed down hard onto paper. The chair slid, feet paced around the room, then Bathmore sat down again. I imagined him seated at a desk or table. What was he working on? Was he trying to crack the code too? Working from Wolhardt’s notes? I hoped so. That would mean the notes were just in the next room and my job was close to done. I would merely have to wait for him to leave then go in and take them.
He kept me waiting for a while. I spent two more hours sitting on the floor and listening before I finally heard him stand up. A loud zipper opened and closed followed by a curious bang like metal striking metal, then the door opened and Bathmore left the room, slamming the door closed behind him. I had to think fast—follow Bathmore or search his office first. It was an easy choice. I knew I had to search his office, even if it meant losing him. I waited for two minutes, then peeked out into the corridor. It was empty. I repeated the bump key trick on Bathmore’s door and the lock gave way. Inside I found a simple wooden desk, a locking file cabinet, two stools, and a music stand. Early afternoon sun shone through the window and dust motes circled in the shaft of light. There was a sheet of paper, folded in thirds on the desk. It had a piece of tape on it as if it had maybe been taped to the outside of the door. I picked it up. It was from the building management—an official notice of eviction effective at the end of the month. It was June thirtieth so Bathmore’s time was up. I opened the unlocked file cabinet drawers. They were empty. He had taken the notes with him if they had been there at all. I hurried from the building, hoping I could catch up to him.
Chapter 13
Beer and Necromancy
July 2: London
Bathmore was nowhere to be seen when
