If you’re new to the Great Game, please have a quick look at the blurb to your left, where you’ll find a short catch-up introduction.
I could feel eyes on me as I got out of the pod. I ignored the feeling, and made a show of striding confidently to the nearest stairway. Mortimer lived four levels up, towards the left end of the building, and I made it to his door without seeing another soul. The feeling of being watched didn’t fade, though. I rang the door buzzer, stepped slightly to one side, and waited.
No answer, no stirring, nothing. Damn.
I took a closer look at the door. It had a fairly modern-looking scanner on it, the sort of thing you normally saw on town-houses rather than housing blocks. It made sense that a security officer would have better locks, though. I could get through it, but not quickly, and not without some tools from the pod. There were curtained windows to either side of the door. From the other apartments, it looked like one was in small lounge, and the other in the kitchen.
The windows had effective-looking locks, too. The hinges were a very different matter, though. Partially recessed, they were only locked in by a simple dead-bolt. It took a bit of digging around with my pocket knife to loosen the wood around them, but once that was done, it only took a moment for me to knock the bolts through. The window sagged as I did, and I got a good grip on the internal framework. A quick wrench, and it popped straight out with only a soft noise.
I ducked and waited for half a minute. There didn’t appear to be any reaction from inside, so I reached in with my knife, and carefully eased the edge of the curtain to one side. A quick glance suggested that the room was empty. I ducked down again, and then after a moment, reached up and slowly pulled the curtain across as much as I could.
By now, I wasn’t expecting any reaction. None came. Slowly, I stood up, and looked into the room. It looked tidy and uncluttered, with few obviously personal touches. I listened carefully for a moment, and then grabbed the window frame and squeezed myself into the apartment.
Immediately, something put me on edge. I drew my pistol and stood silent for several seconds, watching the doorway carefully. There was no hint of life, but the sense of wrongness remained.
Slowly and quietly, I started to make an initial sweep of the house. The lounge led into a stubby hallway; the kitchen was immediately opposite. Nothing. A bit further down, behind the kitchen, was a bathroom, the door open. I poked in just far enough to see inside. Nothing.
That left the two bedrooms. Both doors were closed. I went up to the nearer, pressed my ear against the door, and listened carefully. There was a soft ticking, but nothing else. No suggestion of breathing. I moved to the other door, and listened again. Still silence. I stepped aside slightly, slowly turned the door know, and gently opened the door, gun ready. Nothing happened again, so I looked in. It, too, was clear. I turned to the last room, and repeated the procedure.
Damn it. The whole place was empty.
I opened the front door, picked up the window, and propped it back in its hole. Then I had a second look around the apartment. There were no hints of a struggle, no obvious signs of preparation for a journey, nothing to suggest anything particularly out of the ordinary had happened. I went back into the lounge, and sat down.
I had several options.
- ... I could head to the alley where I'd last seen Mortimer the previous evening, and look around there. (37%)
- ... I could invest a decent chunk of time into going through the place with a fine-toothed comb. (33%)
- ... I could try questioning some of the neighbours and see if anyone knew anything useful. (22%)
- ... I could try visiting the Cadogan Place Security Center. (7%)
- ... Or, I could just go back to the office. (1%)
Voting Closes at: February 1, 2010 @ 2:00 pm
Loading ...Today’s photo is Living Room by P D Stahl
There has got to be a reason for that feeling of wrongness. [Of course it might be that we are short a marble or two.] But even if we don’t find anything, something may find us.
…What was making the ticking noise? Are we really dumb enough to ignore it?
I’m getting that feeling of wrongness, too. Clean apartment, few decorations, no signs of struggle or hasty departure, and an unexplained ticking noise in the bedroom. Very strange.
Mortimer either hates decorating, isn’t planning on staying long, or has had more than one unexpected visitor today. I think our hero should check the place again, this time looking for signs of a recent scrub-down or non-occupancy.
A good place to start would be the fridge and the trash can; a lack of groceries or recent garbage could indicate the apartment is a front. Likewise, too much cleanliness might mean someone’s already stopped by to take the interesting bits.
I’d also check out that ticking noise. It’s probably not a bomb, given the time period. It’s probably also not a clock; Mortimer doesn’t strike me as a brass-and-aviator-goggles kind of guy, so antique timepieces probably aren’t his thing. So what IS it?
It seems as if the ticking could just be a clock. but maybe it’s a time machine. or a dimension jumping device. perhaps Mortimer is in a parallel universe right now.