Annulet (Keepers Book 2)

Chapter 2 - In Which an Interception Occurs

Tracey remained frozen in place, staring at her now empty hands. Combustible paper? she thought. I thought that I had seen the last of that once we found Mr. Porter. She frowned. Didn't Mrs. Pinot send those notes to incriminate Jon Starr? she thought, remembering the widow and actor. But she's in prison now—how could she possibly send it? And what interest could she still have in me?

Tracey carefully took the envelope that the letter had arrived in and tucked it into her pocket. I don't know who to ask about this... She sighed. Well, at least it doesn't seem like anyone's in mortal danger this time around.

Tracey paused, her hand still on the envelope. I wonder if I can get Bentam's help on this... she thought.

The last time she had told Bentam about combustible paper, he had at first dismissed her claims. Not soon after encountering such a paper, however, did he choose to help Tracey solve her mystery. The pair had since remained in contact. And his insight proved to be invaluable, Tracey thought.

"He should be at work right now, so maybe...," Tracey said as her eyes scanned the square. "Ah, there!" she said.

Tracey read the door's sign as she approached:

Local goods and necessities!

Staples, home decor, machinery parts, and more.

Steam-conversations available within.

It was the last of the listed items which captured Tracey's interest. Similar to motor-mail (which was a device that, as the name suggests, sends mail with the use of motors), steam-conversations were able to transmit voices from far distances through a complex process of steam. This process was so meticulous to complete that the inventor of the said technology was rumored to have given way to insanity. Thankfully, Tracey needn't worry about such an outcome, as the steps to starting a steam-conversation had since been greatly simplified.

After a few brief toots of steam, Tracey could hear the sound of a clacking typewriter. The clacking stopped, and the familiar, cold voice of Bentam sounded from the other end of her hearing piece.

"This is Mr. Berkley of the High Constable Record-Keeping Department speaking," he unenthusiastically said. "To whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking?"

"Hello Bentam, this is Tracey."

Silence.

Tracey looked at her receiver and shook it. Did I lose the call? she thought, peering at the machine's steam exhaust.

Bentam's voice sounded once more, noticeably more enthusiastic. "Tracey," he said.

"Ah, Bentam, yes!" Tracey said. "I thought our call may have disconnected."

"Oh, no," Bentam said. He cleared his throat. "I thought you were on vacation?"

"I am," she replied. "I'm calling you from Strattengear. I've just arrived."

"...Oh?" Bentam said. Tracey heard a tinge of surprise in his voice. "Well, thank you for letting me know of your safe arrival—."

"No, that's not why I'm calling you," Tracey said with a quick shake of her head. "Listen—." She stopped mid-conversation, observing a slim man enter the building, his clothes covered by a large apron and full of stains. "Listen," she continued, her voice lower. "Do you know of any way to have a...secure...conversation with you?"