Plagium (Keepers Book 1)

Chapter 13 - In Which There is Adverse Action

The Bank of Mondon was one of the few reputable establishments within the large city of Mondon. Due to its trustworthiness, and ability to prevent the theft of customers' money (unlike other similar establishments), it quickly became the High Constable's number one source and trustee of its funds. It was of no surprise to Tracey, then, that Bentam was ready and waiting for them as they arrived that morning, already done with his business. It was also of no surprise that their own group had a low priority to the bank, leaving them waiting a full hour later than the combusted note had arranged for them.

Charlie, who had just given up in unlocking Mr. Porter's book, sat with his head in his hands and legs kicking and let out a loud sigh. "What time is it?" he grumbled.

Mittie's attention snapped up from a book that she had carried with her, her head swiveling to the glowing gearclock that hung prestigiously on the far wall. "Look at that, it's already half past 10." Mittie closed her book and stood. "D'ya think we should go ask for someone?"

"The more inconspicuous we can be, the better," Bentam said with a shake of his head.

"Oh," Mittie said, slowly sitting once more. "How's that locked book comin' along, Charlie?"

"All a' bunch of rust," he growled.

"Charlie...," Harriet said with a warning glance.

"Well, it is. Can't make heads or tails o' this lock."

Tracey scanned the bank, her eyes flitting on the bustling activity of businesswomen and businessmen scurrying about on their daily tasks. The crowd was so large that she couldn't tell if anyone was walking towards them, or simply crossing to the other side of the foyer. "It has been quite a while, Bentam," she sighed. "You were able to get your business done rather quickly..."

"That's right," Mittie joined, "How's it you were able ta get in so fast?"

Bentam waved a hand nonchalantly. "The Bank of Mondon doesn't tarry with High Constable business, I suppose."

Tracey sighed and settled back in her seat, looking once more at the teeming masses. "I wonder if this Wiliams Matthews know where Mr. Porter may be," she said.

"Hopefully so," Bentam replied. "The sooner we find your Mr. Porter, the sooner we can wrap all of this up."

Harriet suddenly straightened in her seat. "Is that the Williams Matthews fellow? He looks like he's walking over here."

Tracey's eyes followed her gaze. There!

From the crowd of people strode a small man, his most notable feature being a mustache stretching from ear to ear-or rather sideburn to sideburn. His sharp attire indicated his being a banker, from the high collar to the vest to the polished shoes. His eyes locked with Tracey's and his pace quickened. "Ms. Higgenbottom?" he boomed as he drew nearer.

"Y-yes," she stammered, taken aback by how loud his voice was.

"Please follow me." Everyone stood as if to follow. "Only Ms. Higgenbottom," he snapped.

"What?" Charlie cried indignantly. "We're all together here!"

"I'm merely following instructions," was his simple response before he whisked back towards the crowd. Everyone slowly sat once more.

"If you need us, yell!" Mittie said as Tracey took a few hesitant steps. She steeled herself, bunched up her shoulders, and took a deep breath before quickening to reach the banker in the crowd.

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The banker led Tracey through a grand corridor, down a set of stairs, across a perilous catwalk, down another set of stairs, and finally to a set of two, dark, imposing doors. He swung both doors open to reveal an equally dark and imposing room, and marched down the length of the long room before sitting at a desk at its far end. Tracey squinted to see the desk, let alone him sitting behind it. "Do close the door behind yourself, Ms. Higgenbottom," he said, his voice somehow just as loud as when he was right in front of her earlier.