Page 58 of Tightrope

The knob turned easily in Matthias’s hand. The door swung open on rusty hinges, revealing a heavily shadowed space crammed with anarray of mechanical equipment, tools, and what appeared to be spare parts from various types of machinery.

Amalie stopped in dismay. “You’re right, the place looks like a junkyard. There’s stuff everywhere. How in the world are we going to conduct a search when we don’t even know what we’re looking for?”

“We’re not interested in the hardware or the mechanical and electrical equipment.” Matthias went down an aisle formed by workbenches. “We’re looking for notebooks, journals, ledgers, phone numbers—anything that might give us a lead.”

Amalie trailed after him. “Where are you going?”

“Pickwell’s office. I told you that the first time I was here I didn’t have time to conduct a thorough search. In addition, I didn’t have all the information I’ve got now. With luck we’ll find something that I didn’t notice the first time, something that will make sense given what we now know.”

A huge metal figure loomed in the shadows. Amalie stopped to examine it.

“This thing must have been an early version of Futuro,” she said. “It doesn’t look anything like the one that Pickwell demonstrated at the Palace.”

The mechanical man was an awkward assemblage of parts that had evidently been salvaged from a variety of other machines. The face bore a striking resemblance to a toaster.

Matthias glanced at the figure. “An early version, all right.” He paused and took a second look. “A very early version.”

He opened the door of a small room and pulled a cord that dangled from an overhead fixture. A weak bulb came on, illuminating an office that was nearly buried under years of clutter. Papers, notebooks, manuals, and catalogs advertising engineering and scientific supplies were stacked on the floor and piled on top of an old metal desk. The bookshelves that stood against one wall were crammed with heavy manuals and thick tomes.

“Are you responsible for this mess?” Amalie asked.

“No, it was like this when I got here the first time,” Matthias said. “I don’t think anyone, except me, searched the place. There’s a thick layer of dust on the stacks of books and the drawings. Norman Pickwell was not a man of neat and orderly habits.”

Amalie turned on her heel. “Where do we start?”

“I’ll take the desk. You can start with the papers and drawings piled on the floor.”

“What about the filing cabinet? Isn’t that where most people put important papers?”

“We’ll save the cabinet for last. Judging by the condition of the workshop, it’s a good bet that Pickwell was the kind of inventor who would have kept anything related to a current project conveniently at hand.”

“Good point. You’ve had some experience with this sort of thing, haven’t you?”

Matthias opened a desk drawer. “Some.”

“What am I looking for?” she asked.

“We’re interested in any papers or notes that look new or recent. Ignore anything that has turned yellow with age or has a coat of dust on it.”

“That means we can ignore ninety percent of the stuff in this office.”

“Yes, I think so,” Matthias said.

Amalie hefted a copy ofMechanical Engineers’ Handbookand picked up the drawings that it had anchored on the floor. The title of the first one was “Ball and Roller Bearings.” The next one was “Spring Relief Valve.”

“This is going to take a while,” she said.

“We’ve got time.”

Twenty minutes later Matthias closed the last drawer in the desk. He had a large envelope in one hand.

“This looks new,” he said.

He dumped the contents of the envelope onto the desk. A familiar stillness came over him.

“Now this is interesting,” he said softly.

Amalie moved closer to the desk and watched Matthias flip through some drawings.

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