‘This one shouldn’t cause you too much difficulty,’ said Artie, waving a folder in the vague direction of where Myka was standing. She stepped forward to take it from him. ‘It’s in a pawn shop in Montreal, not even all that expensive. Budget and credit card are in the file.’
‘So if it’s so straightforward, why does Pete have to come with me?’
‘Because you can’t cope without me?’ said Pete.
Artie glared at both of them. ‘Because even a straightforward assignment like this can go horribly wrong. Besides, Warehouse agents work in pairs unless there is a very good reason not to.’
‘So what are we looking for?’ asked Pete, trying to get a view of the file over Myka’s shoulder.
‘Pontmercy’s ring,’ said Artie. ‘Belonged to a French nobleman of the 19th Century. As a youngster he got caught up in the Paris uprisings, and was the only survivor of his particular barricade. It actually isn’t due to his actions that the ring became an artifact - the man who saved him caused that. Since then, those who wear the ring have been known to commit feats of great bravery for those they love, but at the ultimate cost of their own life. We need to get it out of circulation. In other words - ‘
‘Bag and tag,’ said Pete.
Myka’s eyes had been focused on the file. Now she looked up at Artie, her eyes wide. ‘Pontmercy,’ she said quietly. ‘You can’t mean…’
‘Not everything you read in novels is fiction, Myka. Now, go.’
‘Already gone,’ said Pete, heading for the door.
Myka hung back, still looking at Artie in confusion.
‘Bring this one home,’ Artie said, softly.
Myka nodded and followed Pete into the umbilicus.