Chapter Forty-Eight

T HE NOBLE MYSTERY'S headquarters were located in Murray Hill, just below Midtown and close to the East River. In many ways, it was a place tucked off the beaten path, somewhat forgotten by the rest of the world. The building looked like it could have been apartments, seven floors up with a fire escape right down the front. The windows on the top floor arched high, and ran floor to ceiling. It seemed like a holdover, as if it would only remain a commercial property for a short time before someone converted them to high-priced lofts. But for now, it remained an office building.

An esoteric book store, "Jay's Occult Books," took up the bottom floor, leaving a small doorway to the right of the book shop as the only way to get into the building.

"So this is the place?" Travis asked, looking up at the brick building.

"Yeah," Bo replied, his hand already on the door.

"Is there any reason to think this is an ambush?"

"An ambush?" Bo asked, turning to look at his companion.

"Yeah, like, they know you're going to come and visit, so they set up a trap."

"I don't think so."

"Really? It's what I'd do."

"But they, uh, kind of killed themselves."

"All of them?"

"I mean, I think so."

"So you're sure they wouldn't have set up traps and left them behind, right?"

"I guess not."

"So I go first."

"I'm not going to stop you," Bo said with a shrug, stepping to the side.

Travis flashed his perfect smile and opened the door.

The lobby was small, nothing more than a hallway leading to an elevator. The left wall had a cork board with various business names and office addresses. The right wall held the business mailboxes.

"Top floor," Travis said, pointing to the bulletin board.

They walked to the elevator.

The overall lack of security struck Bo as weird. Most New York buildings had some sort of locking system in place, some way to keep out transients and crazies. This place, though, was just wide open to anyone who wanted to swing on by. Maybe the distance from a major avenue kept it from needing more security. Or the general distance from any form of public transportation. The nearest subway stop was a solid hike.

The elevator was small, and the two large men had to get uncomfortably close.

Bo noticed how nice Travis smelled, and he wondered if he smelled bad. Travis hummed softly, and Bo recognized the song. He just couldn't quite place it.

The doors slid open on the top floor to reveal a very small wood paneled lobby leading to a single door with a frosted glass upper. The glass had simple black lettering reading The Noble Mystery Foundation.

"Guess this is the place," Travis said.

Bo nodded in agreement, but he wasn't really paying attention to the man with him. Bo was running through the limited bit of information he'd managed to glean from Brittany the previous day. Going over what he thought might be important, what clues he might look for inside. He was starting to worry this was a bad idea, that he'd manage to fuck things up by going into the headquarters without Brittany.

"Do you think—" Bo started to voice his concerns, but he stopped speaking when he heard breaking glass.

Travis stood in front of the door, and looked over his shoulder. "What?"

''What did you just do?" Bo asked, rushing towards the door.

"Got us inside," Travis replied, his head through the broken window already, looking inside the offices.

"But—"

"Looks clear in here," he said, clearly not paying any attention to Bo.

Travis ran his fingers around the door, feeling for anything. Then he reached inside to unlock the door. He pushed it lightly and it swung on its hinges with the lightest of squeaks.

Another wood hallway and more wood paneling, all leading to a small wooden desk with a nameplate.

Travis led the way, stepping carefully as he went.

Bo followed, and immediately managed to step on a loud, creaky floor board.

Travis shot Bo a look.

"Sorry," Bo whispered.

"Shut up," Travis hissed.

"You think they're going to hear my footsteps after they missed you breaking the glass to get in?"

"Just fucking around," Travis said with a smile, and stood up straight. He walked into the office, moving quickly, stepping over the desk.

Bo shook his head. This is a bad idea , he thought.

The headquarters of the Noble Mystery were odd. There didn't really seem to be any real planning or foresight behind the layout of the place — it was just a warren of tight hallways and small offices. Doors to opposite offices were laid out so that they couldn't both be opened at once. Each office had an identical setup, with the same small desk, same uncomfortable looking chair, same desk lamp, same extra lamp in the corner. The carpet was older, musty, industrial. Wood paneling was everywhere, on every vertical surface. The ceiling had drop panel acoustics. The place screamed out that it was stuck in the past, that it didn't want to change. At all.

It took a solid effort to get to the front of the building and find the windows, mainly because they were all hidden in individual offices. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything resembling a meeting room or a file room. Or anything besides the plethora of tiny offices.

"What the fuck is this place?" Travis asked.

"I, uh, I don't know," Bo replied, feeling very turned around, very out of sorts. The place made him uncomfortable. "This place gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"Seems like that's the job," Travis replied.

"Man, I don't know what the fuck this job is."

"Right. Day two."

"Yeah, and I started it by—" Bo clamped his lips shut, realizing he probably wasn't allowed to say what he'd done.

"What?"

"Nothing," Bo said.

"Shit you can't tell me?"

"I think so."

"Well fuck having a close partnership."

"Hey man, supposedly it's saving your fucking brain."

"But it doesn't mess with yours?"

"I don't make the rules."

"Just follow them?"

"Hey, I saw what it did to the cops who, you know, saw shit they weren't supposed to."

"Not good?"

"Depends on how much you like painting the walls with your own shit."

"Not on my top ten of weekend activities."

Bo gave a little nod, and opened another office door.

Just like all the rest.

Frustrated, Bo pushed the chair roughly to the side, and started wrenching the drawers out.

The first was empty.

The second had a few pens in it.

The third had one sheet of paper. College ruled, three hole punched, blank.

"What the fuck is this?" Bo shouted, snatching the paper up and holding it to Travis.

Travis shrugged.

Bo couldn't contain his frustration anymore. He grabbed the desk and flipped it over.

The desk crashed into the wood-paneled wall with a dull thunk.

"Feel better?" Travis asked.

"No," Bo snapped, pushing past the muscular model and into the hallway. Bo looked left, then right. Everything seemed the same. Both directions were as identical as they could be.

Right.

He stomped down the hall, and flung open the next door. Inside were all the same contents.

Bo threw the chair against the wall, and pulled the drawers open, upending them on the desk, and chucking the empties against the wall. But all that revealed were little bits of office detritus; paperclips, push pins, nothing of any actual value or use.

Bo stormed out, and repeated the procedure in office after office.

Nothing.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?" Bo yelled.

"Done?" Travis asked.

Bo shot the man a dark look.

"You got a better idea?" Bo asked.

Travis nodded, and pointed up. "I think it's time to look in the ceiling."