Page 42 of The Society of Unknowable Objects
He looks so tired. He’s always been old to me, but I’ve never seen himactually lookso old as he does now.Sobeaten.
“Well, I suppose it’s time,” Frank continued. He pointed across the table to Will’s seat. “It seems the Society has come to the end of its natural life. Maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s right. If nothing else, that stunt in the park today, using the rook like that...” He shook his head. “I must be losing my mind.”
“It’s what I’ve been saying for years, Frank,” Magda said, reaching for his hand again. “You don’t have to do it all by yourself, and you don’t have to give it up. You’re carrying all this weight on your own and you don’t need to. All I’ve ever wanted to do is help.”
Frank grunted. “I wonder if you’ll still think that after you know the truth, Sparks.”
“I’m not scared of the truth about anything,” she replied, sounding more certain than she felt.
Frank swallowed another mouthful of Coke. Then he looked at Magda again. “Okay. I’ll tell you about the book, but it isn’t down here. I put it somewhere you would find it...” He nodded at her. “You know.”
“What? After you’re dead?”
He laughed, and the noise surprised and pleased Magda. “You may not have noticed, Sparks, but I am very, very old.”
Magda tutted at him, choosing not to reveal that this was exactly what she had just been thinking. “Don’t talk nonsense. Go and get the book. I don’t want to find it when you’re dead and gone. I want to talk about it now.”
He closed the Impossible Box and pushed back his chair. “I’ll fetch it if you make me a coffee. I can’t be drinking that fizzy stuff all night.”
This feels right. This feels good. He’s going to tell you everything and it’s a relief to him too.
Frank headed to the door and Magda wandered over to the kettle to reboil it, her mind spinning about the truths that were about to be revealed. She was excited at what would come. She doubted the conversation would have gone the way it had if Will and Henrietta had turned up, and she found she was secretly pleased that they were absent. Maybe it was better that it was just her and Frank.
She heard Frank opening the door to the stairs and then she heard a gasp and a shocked “What?,” and a moment later there was a muffled grunt and the scuffling of feet.
Magda spun on the spot to see Frank careering backwards as if shoved with sudden force, his arms thrown out in front of him. His head banged heavily against one of the bookshelves and he collapsed to the floor, a grimace of pain on his face.
Before Magda could react, before she could scream or move, the man who had killed James Wei stepped into the room. Smiling, he pulled a gun from his waistband.
Unexpected Visitor
“Frank!” Magda shrieked. She darted across the room and dropped into a crouch to pull him close. Frank’s eyes were wide and unfocussed, his face pale, and blood was running freely from the back of his skull. “You could have killed him!” Magda yelled at the man.
The man back-heeled the door shut behind him, his gaze travelling around the room quickly before settling on Magda. His eyes were icy blue and unblinking.
Eyes of a psychopath.
“You’re not going to fly away this time, are you?” he sneered at her. “Unless you can melt through the ceiling.”
Magda ignored him, turning her attention to Frank. She cradled his head, his blood running over her hands. “Frank?”
“Leave him,” the man snapped, cold eyes narrowing with impatience. “Get up.”
“He’s an old man!” Magda yelled. “He’s injured.”
“You are confusing me for someone who cares. Get over there.” He grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked her to her feet, shoving her towards the far side of the room. “Sit in one of the chairs where I can keep an eye on you.”
She refused to move, glaring at the man in spite of the fear coursing through her. “I’m not leaving him.”
The man watched her, his top lip curling in the face of her defiance. He was dressed in a smart black suit, white shirt open at the neck, but his skin was so pale, Magda thought, his face so gaunt that he looked unhealthy.
Like an undertaker. He deals with death. He lives in the shadows. He’s a creature of the night. He’s not a man who turns his face to the sun.
Frank spoke, his voice a strained whisper. “There’s nothing here,” he said. Magda watched him lift his face to his attacker. “Nothing to find.”
“Really?” the attacker asked, his eyes fixed on Magda, even as he replied to Frank. He pointed over his shoulder at the door. “Not many places have keypad entry and a reinforced steel door if they have nothing of value.” He took a step forward, lifting the gun at Magda.
Oh god!
