Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9) Brad Magnarella (the best novels to read .TXT) 📖

carefully over the threshold, locked the door behind me, and hurried downstairs.

“And you still think the perp is Sven?” she asked.

“He did try to kill me using a sigil from the Attican cult.”

“But if he can travel through this shadow present, why didn’t he plant the sigil from inside your office? Why do the deed in the hallway where anyone could see?”

It was a great question, but as I stepped outside, our connection started to go staticky.

“You’re breaking up,” I said, flagging an approaching cab. “I’ll call you after the lecture.”

Trevor of the Sup Squad phoned me on the way to the club with an update on the Sven Roe investigation.

“No match to the prints we lifted from his desk,” he said. “Just means he’s not in any of the crime databases. His picture went out this afternoon, and we’ve been getting some calls. Nothing solid yet. The facial recognition search is probably our best bet. If he’s active online, we’ll find him. A tech’s working on it.”

I’d left him a message earlier about my dead-end search for the tanzanite, and I filled in the details before ending the call. The cab was pulling up to a line of five-story townhouses on the Upper West Side. We stopped in front of a handsome stone mansion, a metal plaque beside the door reading The Discovery Society.

I paid the driver and hurried up the steps with about a minute to spare. A proper doorman who was long in years and short in stature confirmed my reservation number on a tablet, then ushered me down a wainscoted corridor lined with portraits. A large Discovery Society flag, like the one in Bear’s photo, presided over them.

“The public should always arrive fifteen minutes before the start of a lecture,” the doorman tutted, a purple mole bobbing beside his nose.

But distracted by the passing portraits of club luminaries, I only half heard him. I glimpsed one of Sir Edmund Hillary of Mount Everest fame and another of pilot Amelia Earhart. At a portrait of a man with copper-blond hair, I stopped.

Bear Goldburn, the plaque read, followed by a list of expeditions.

The doorman snapped his fingers and hissed, “Come! It’s about to start.”

Opening a door, he motioned me inside. I stepped past him and into an antiquated library adorned with old maps and several taxidermy mounts, including a massive Bengal tiger and polar bear. Rows of chairs faced a wooden lectern where a thin man was organizing some notes, his mustache a perfectly inverted V. The audience consisted mostly of older gentlemen in sweaters and tweed, and it looked as if every chair was taken.

“Psst!” someone called. “Over here.”

A man with blond hair to his shoulders who looked to be about my age was motioning me over to an empty chair beside him. The doorman issued a final frown from the doorway before sealing it.

“Don’t mind Eldred,” the blond-haired man said in an accent that sounded Scandinavian. “He is like that with everyone. The authority of letting people in and out of the club for so many years has gone to his head. He is drunk with power.”

“I know a few people like that,” I muttered. “Thanks for the seat. I’m Everson.”

“Ludvig,” he replied. His bright blue eyes crossed slightly above a broad smile of crooked teeth. The features conspired to give him a semi-crazed look. “So, what is your interest in asteroid families?”

“Asteroid families?” The lecture topic, I realized. In the madness of the afternoon, I hadn’t taken a good look at it. I hadn’t even had time to consider a cover story. “I’m more interested in the club, really.” Not a lie, but it was about as much as I wanted to share on the subject. “What about you?”

He released a high giggle that turned a few heads. “You are interested in membership?”

“Oh, well, not right away or anything,” I stammered.

“No, this is excellent! I will introduce you to some people after the lecture.”

Wonderful.

My plan had been to look around a little without drawing attention to myself. But if my magic had led me here, it may also have intended for me to meet Ludvig, an apparent insider. I nodded my thanks as the man with the inverted mustache tapped his notes into a pile and began speaking in a monotone.

I was awakened by my head being nudged. I opened my eyes, startled to find I was still in the library at the Discovery Society. The lecture had apparently ended, and the audience was standing now, murmuring conversationally.

I jerked my head from Ludvig’s shoulder. “Oh, man, I am so sorry. It’s been a long day.”

He giggled. “It is all right. When you come here as long as I have, you learn little tricks for staying awake. You did much better than I did my first time.”

I wiped my mouth with a handkerchief. “Are you an explorer?”

“A statistician, but exploration is in my blood. My great grandfather was Jesper Lassgard. He was on both expeditions that were first to the North and South Poles. In fact, he was one of the club’s founders. I’m just an associate. One of the fellows is sponsoring me for full membership, but this can take time. I have to prove myself, and nowadays it is not enough to cross an ocean or trek to the poles. You must advance knowledge in some way.”

Given the stuffy crowd, I couldn’t help but wonder if Ludvig’s odd mannerisms were as much a hindrance to his membership as anything.

“The fellows?” I asked.

“Yes, four sit on the Council. Well, three now.”

“I was sorry to hear about Bear Goldburn,” I said, testing whether he was the subtracted fellow in question.

Ludvig nodded. “He brought a lot of energy and standing to the Society.”

I was trying to come up with a follow-up question when someone caught Ludvig’s eye. His chest convulsed with another giggle.

“Wait here!” he said and darted into the dispersing crowd.

Odd guy, but he seemed to know everyone. I used his absence