Chapter 42 - The Observatory
No one slept that night.
The invitation rested in the center of the conference table while Harold, Catherine, Samuel, Michael, Arthur, and Detective Elena Morris examined every detail once again.
The paper contained no watermark.
The ink revealed no identifiable chemical markers.
Even the wooden box had been crafted from a species of oak that could not be traced to any modern manufacturer.
"They expected us to analyze it," Elena observed.
Harold nodded.
"They also expected us to fail."
Arthur turned the ivory chess king over in his hand.
"Chess was never about the king."
Michael looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"The king survives because everyone else moves first."
Harold's eyes narrowed.
"The piece isn't the message."
"Then what is?"
Harold pointed toward the base.
A tiny number had been carved beneath the felt covering.
14.
Samuel frowned.
"We never numbered chess pieces."
"No."
Harold stood.
"But we numbered observation sites."
Catherine's expression changed.
"Observatory Fourteen."
Everyone looked at her.
"It was one of the earliest meeting locations."
"I thought it had been demolished."
"So did I."
Historical records showed an abandoned hilltop observatory outside the city had officially closed nearly forty years earlier.
By sunrise, the team stood outside its rusted gates.
Nature had reclaimed much of the property.
Vines covered the stone walls.
The dome had partially collapsed.
Yet one thing immediately caught Elena's attention.
Fresh tire tracks.
May you like
Someone had visited only hours earlier.
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