Page 18 of The Light Within

A subtle hum filled the room as the thin canvas warped into a piece of flimsy cloth.

“What sort of motetech is this?” hissed Elliot.

Somewhat taken aback, Julien stared between the pile of material on the floor and the large metal safe installed within Eleanor’s wall. “I’m… not sure.”

A safe, yet no visible lock.

It was likely that it had some sort of detection system that would register anyone attempting to access it. Possibly, it could be traced right back to him.

Fuck it.

Julien yanked on the handle with some force.

“Yay, more files.”

“Files hidden behind a secret painting, Elliot. You think they’re going to be grocery lists? Or maybe her Christmas cards?”

Numerous folders were stuffed inside the safe, a plethora of coloured tabs and chunky paperclips poking out of many of them. With Elliot’s patience wearing thin, Julien had to adopt the most efficient search strategy possible. Without further ado, he yanked on the bottom folder, hard, sending the entire contents scattering onto the floor by their feet.

Julien awaited a verbal reprimand from Elliot, but he simply threw up his hands before dropping to the floor.

What Eleanor actually did all day had never been entirely clear, her job title vaguely linked to HR and foreign relations. As Julien poured through the files, helped by the light of his lumenmote ball, he became no more enlightened, as the files were meaningless to him. A fair few of them were in languages Julien had no knowledge of—Arabic? Japanese? Others appeared to be invoices, rows and columns of senseless numerals. His attention was briefly caught by a document listing a series of coordinates. He studied them, anticipating his brain magically inferring some meaning. Nothing.

Julien tossed the folder back on the pile, a sobering sensation of failure curling up in his stomach. This was useless. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. Elliot was exhausted and Cinn was back at home, expecting to find Julien in his bed if he woke.

“Let’s—”

A low hiss from Elliot. “This one is personnel files!” He withdrew a pile of paper from the fat manilla folder, flapping it in the air. A photograph of a man’s face was clipped to the front of a bunch of papers.

Julien snatched it. “This isn’t Béatrice,” he muttered, scanning the lines of handwritten information about the German man.

“No, but this one is.”

Julien’s head shot up. Elliot held up a similar file, this time with his sister’s pale face filling the frame. Her Auri intake ID photograph. “Let me see.” Julien reached towards it.

Elliot stilled, cocking his head. “Shh… Do you hear that?”

“What?” Julien snapped, trying to tug Béatrice’s file from his grip.

Elliot’s wide eyes and shushing sound forced him to pay attention. Footsteps. Heavy ones, coming from the floor below them. Whoever else was in the building with them in the middle of the night, it couldn’t be good news.

“Let’s just take it and get out of here,” hissed Elliot, jumping to his feet and stuffing the rest of the files back into the safe at random.

“Non, we have to photocopy it. Else she might spot it missing. Though, I think your reorganisation of her secret filing cabinet might have given the game away anyway,” snapped Julien, glaring at the pigsty Elliot had made of the safe’s interior.

“And which one of us tipped them all on the floor, you twat?” A thud below them, followed by a creak. Elliot sighed. “Fine, give me her file, quick. I saw a photocopier back near the bathroom.”

Julien stared down at the manilla folder Béatrice’s file had come out of, tossed to the floor with its innards spilling out. If Eleanor had a file on Béatrice… “Wait a second.”

“What? Give it to me!”

Ignoring him, Julien wedged Béatrice under his armpit and flicked through the rest of the files at the speed of light.

Which was not fast enough for Elliot.

“Julien!”

“Justone second!”

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