The Department of Curiosites by Karen J. Carlisle

Author:Karen J. Carlisle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kraken Publishing
Published: 2023-07-01T00:00:00+00:00

Tillie returned to the orphanage, replaced the bicycle and collected up her discarded skirts. She strode directly to the file room, ignoring the damp tendrils of hair that clung to her cheek; she wouldn’t sleep until she found out why Harrow was so keen to have her search Jackson’s files. If she was quick, she could sort out the puzzle before the others rose for breakfast.

She’d never encountered Harrow in the File Room but, as Saunders’ Upper Level equivalent, she’d assumed he had access. It was reassuring to know he hadn’t had a chance to discover she had been searching the Restricted Files, but...

Her hand froze on the File Room door handle. Harrow had followed her along the corridor. He must have been coming from the File Room.

<<He lies,>> whispered the Orb.

<<I know.>> Her heart raced. What had he been up to?

She locked the door behind her. A single droplet of water dripped from her bonnet and splashed onto her nose. She sniffed. Her damp skirt bundle slipped. The trim haemorrhaged from the gash in the skirt and tumbled into a growing pool of water on the floor at her feet. She wedged the torn passementerie into the tears created by the bicycle’s pedals, and grumbled as she ran her gaze over the sea of file drawers.

“What were you doing here, Harrow? What did you want me to find?”

She wandered along the nearest row and scanned the cabinets; each had a fine layer of dust. She glanced back down the aisle towards the Restricted Files. Her skirts had swept a trail though the dust during her previous visits.

<<I wonder if Saunders has noticed?>> she asked the Orb.

<<He notices all,>> it replied.

She grimaced. The man had a keen eye, but he was also discreet. Still, if he deemed her secretive jaunts as suspicious, he would report it. He was the General’s man, after all. She twisted the brooch at her neck. She wasn’t sure how much the General had been informed about her; he mustn’t know about her visits to the Restricted Files. Not yet.

“We need a little diversion, I think,” she whispered.

She unfolded her skirt bundle, wandered down the next aisle and dragged the material along the dusty shelves. She worked her way along a few aisles and crossed to the next section to repeat her ruse. She paused, mid-alphabet, and studied the drawers. The dust had already been disturbed here.

She snatched up the swathes of material that cascaded from her bundle, and edged along the aisle, scanning the floor and each drawer before she ventured onward.

The disturbance stopped abruptly about one-third of the way along the aisle. She ran her fingers along the labels: I-v, I-x, I-z, J-a.

“J-a?” she read out loud. “Jackson?”

She pulled the drawer out and thumbed through the cardboard satchels until she found one labelled Jackson.

The satchel contained diagrams on how to modify the Bots, notes on Jackson’s service and background information; enough evidence to suggest he was the traitor, or at least in league with one.

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