The story of the FALLEN

10. Leads and books

Zack walks down the street to his fifth book store today. Hopefully this one can give him at least something, besides disappointment. The previous ones were a bust. The rarest book there was a first edition Tom Sawyer. Not really the thing he was looking for. Not to mention the pushy lady who tried to sell a book on herbology to him, just because she thinks it’s occult. It’s just plants, nothing interesting about them.

This book store looks promising, he thinks as he comes to a stop. The front of the store is dressed in wood. The display window promises old books, and they are serious about them. He can see the books are in a glass case that is locked. Each one sitting on a velvet stand of its own. The glass is thick and UV proof. No sunlight will damage the old books. He checks the address again to be sure, before he walks in. Hoping for the best, but at the same time with no expectations to actually find anything he is searching for.

The inside of the store is surprisingly well lit. It reminds him of the old monastery libraries in its design. The few chairs are antiques, so he is mostly sure those are decorative and not meant to be sat on. The lights are special as well. There is no sting of the strong electric bulbs, the light itself is bright, but soft on the eyes. They must have put a lot of thought into this. All in the interest of providing the best possible place for the books. No humidity in the air, no dust anywhere. And he can see the one employee, or maybe the owner, wearing special white gloves.

“Hello.” Zack greets softly. The guy is clearly very interested in the book in front of him and he missed the bell of the door when Zack walked in.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The man looks up at Zack. Not a fashion statement with the grey hair, the wrinkles on the man’s face give away his true age. “I tend to forget the store is open. What can I do for you?”

“I’m searching for more unusual books. 15th century or earlier. Transcripts preferably. I know finding anything in print would be most suspicious.” Zack tells the man.

“By the vagueness of your description, I assume you are into the forbidden arts?” The man smiles. “Can you be a little more specific? Spells, grimoires, occult medicine… I have come across a lot of weird books in my life.”

“Demons.” Zack answers. Maybe this guy will be of some help?

“I see.” The man nods. He puts his book away very slowly before he turns back to Zack. “That is not common. Books on witches, I could do. But demons? I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure you have any, or you’re not sure you could acquire any?” Zack asks.

“I have a bunch of books I’m not sure what they are. Got them at an estate sale years ago.” The man answers. “Doesn’t hurt to let you look at them, I guess.”

“Would that be possible now?” Zack inquires. The books must be weird, if the owner doesn’t know what they are.

“Yes.” The man nods. He steps around his counter and locks the door. He flips the sign to closed, before he pulls the metal grate closed and locks that too. Zack is wondering if the guy will arm the security alarm as well? He is serious about locking up just to step a few feet away from the door.

“This might seem redundant to you, but I can’t leave the door open, if I’m not here. We are going upstairs.”

“I was wondering why you were suddenly locking up.” Zack answers.

“I value my books more than some of them are worth. You might be new, but I get a feeling of safety around you. Call it professional deformation, but I think I’m a good judge of character. I’ve been in this business for a long time and I’ve never been wrong about someone.” The man answers. “You can call me Tom.”

“Thank you. My name is Zack.” He nods.

Zack follows the man, Tom, around a few shelves and up the stairs. It didn’t look like the store is over multiple stories of the house, but the upper floor looks just the same as downstairs. More books on velvet clad shelves. Most of them look really old to him.

“Your store reminds me of a monastery library.” Zack tells Tom.

“Thank you. I wanted it to look different.” Tom answers. He stops in front of a random shelf. “These are the ones I mentioned before. I could decipher these five to be in Greek, but that’s the extent of my knowledge. I read English, German, Latin and French, but these are a mystery. I haven’t found anyone that could tell me what they are.”

Zack reaches a hand out for the books, but stops midair. He looks over at Tom for permission. The frown of the guy’s face is funny, till he realises why Zack stopped. Tom leans down and pulls a set of white gloves from a drawer in the small side desk.

“Thank you.” Zack says. He pulls the gloves on and takes the first book from the shelf. He places it carefully on the table. The cover is brown leather, artfully stitched and decorated. The writing is indeed Greek, so this book must be a transcript. He opens it slowly to see the inscription on the front page. “It’s a transcript, dating to the 14th century. It was done by Brother Mark in the Abbey of the Holy Cross in Florence.”

“How do you know that?” Tom gapes. The guy is staring at the book like he’s never seen it before.

“Look here.” Zack points to the curlique decorations on the bottom of the first page. “The monks usually hid their name somewhere on the front page. It was forbidden to sign their work, but they found a way around that.”

“Oh my God!” Tom exclaims. “How come I missed that? How do you know that?”

“I’ve been around old books all my life.” Zack smiles. “This book is written in 1st century Greek. Unfortunately not what I’m looking for. It’s a chronicle of Athens. Interesting from a historical point, if you have the other volumes. It’s five books all together.”

“These five look almost identical. Could it be the whole chronicle?” Tom inquires.

“Let’s see.” Zack pulls the rest of the books down. The covers might look alike, but one is not a part of the series. “Hate to disappoint you. You’re missing one. Book number three is not here. This one looks like it belongs, but it’s a book of recipes for a pharmacy. Tonics, ointments, things like that.”

“Oh.” Tom sighs. “At least I know what they are. I never pegged you for a guy that reads old Greek.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” Zack inclines his head. He lets Tom put the books back up, because something caught his eye. “What’s this one?”

“Don’t know. I thought it was Aramaic, but the guy at Oxford said it’s not. I haven’t found the answer yet.” Tom tells him. “Any chance you know what it is?”

“Yeah. A transcript of something very old. The original author is Thomas Aquinas. A 13th century Dominican friar.” Zack smiles. This book is going home with him today. “What puzzles me is the language. He usually wrote in Latin, but this is an Italian dialect only found in Sicily.”

“A current dialect?” Tom inquires. He seems interested in what Zack has to say about the book.

“A long dead dialect.” Zack answers. “This is going to take some serious study time.”

“You can come back anytime you want to.” Tom tells him. “I have the feeling you could tell me so much about the books up here.”

“I can do that, but I really want to buy this book.” Zack looks the man in the eyes. He just issued a challenge to a collector.

“I wasn’t planning on letting it go.” Tom says. He shakes his head like he’s debating something with himself. “But you did give me valuable insight today.”

“Does that mean you would consider selling it?” Zack inquires.

“Yes.” Tom nods. “Seven hundred pounds and it’s yours.”

“Done.” Zack smiles. He didn’t think it would be this easy to get the book. “Do you take cards? I don’t have that kind of cash on me.”

Zack steps out of the shop some time later. His new old book under his arm and a satisfied smile on his face. The day turned out to be good after all. He scored a book on demons, by a respectable author. He’s got a new lead on old books and a guy that practically worships the ground he walks on. These rare book dealers are all weird, they treat you like God, if you can read a long dead language. He’ll never understand it, but it is useful.

“Detective Holland? What can I do for you?” Zack answers his phone. It had been buzzing in his pocket for sometime now, he just decided not to ignore it any more.

“Can we meet? There’s been a development in the Father Angus murder.” The detective asks him.

“Why not?” Zack sighs. He is in a good mood, nothing can spoil it today.” Where? I’m in Greenwich. It’s gonna take me a while to get back to Kensington.”

“Book hunting?” Detective Holland inquires.

“Yes. I actually got one.” Zack chuckles.

“Embassy Cafe in one hour?” The detective suggests.

“I’ll be there.” Zack answers. He will even have time to leave the book at home.

Safely depositing the book at home, with a note for Niki to be careful with it, he grabs a sandwich to eat on the way. Maybe it could count as a meal, if he gets a pie or something at the Cafe? He can’t function on coffee alone. He tried it, but it didn't work out. He can see the detective sitting outside again. Is the guy an outdoors kind or just hates the tight confines of the Cafe and all the people in there? Zack doesn’t mind sitting outside, he doesn’t get cold the way humans do.

“I’m here.” He says to the detective. He orders a pie when the waitress brings his coffee. Now the waiting game for the detective to say something can begin.

“We lost the corpse.” Detective Holland says. “Someone gave the order for Father Angus to be cremated. Not only that we have no leads, no evidence, now we have no body.”

“What do you mean? Gave the order? Doesn’t his family decide how the burial will take place?” Zack asks.

“No. There was an order from somewhere in the police department. His family didn’t ask for cremation.” The detective scoffs. “You can’t imagine the trouble we now have with the Catholic church for desecrating the remains of a priest. It’s a nightmare.”

“Someone is covering their tracks.” Zack nods. “Can you trace the order? Can you find out where it came from?”

“I’m working on that. I have a guy in IT, he’ll trace the emails back. It might take time, though.” The detective tells him.

“There’s been no activity on the southside of Holland Park.” Zack lets him know. “I’m there practically every evening for a run. Not even the usual potheads are around.”

“Now that’s suspicious all on its own.” Detective Holland looks surprised.

“Tell me about it. I never had so much peace running as the last few days. I can’t say I miss the music they keep blaring out of the speakers, but it is weird that they suddenly found a new spot to hang out.” Zack scoffs. He wasn’t paying much attention to the human junkies, but he did notice them gone.