CHAPTER SEVEN

The elevator dinged open on the top floor of the Henshaw Technologies building, and Finn stepped out, his eyes instantly drawn to the vast expanse of glass and steel that framed the London skyline. Amelia followed close behind, her notebook gripped in her hand—a signal she was ready to dissect every word they would hear.

"A little more upmarket from the mill," Finn muttered, peering around at the minimalist decor of Lucas Henshaw"s corporate headquarters. "Pendergast said Henshaw was successful, but I didn"t think this successful."

"That wouldn't be hard," Amelia agreed, her tone dry as they approached the reception desk. "But there's money here, and where there's money, there's motive."

"Detective Wright and Inspector Winters to see Mr. Henshaw's representative," Finn announced to the young woman tapping away at a keyboard behind the desk. She glanced up, her eyes flicking between them before nodding towards the corridor to their left.

"Second door. His executive assistant, Ms. Corbin, will meet you there."

"Thank you," Amelia said with a polite smile, leading the way.

The door to Henshaw"s office clicked open before they could knock, revealing a woman in her thirties, impeccably dressed, her face set in a professional mask.

"Ms. Corbin?" Finn asked, extending a hand.

"Indeed. You"re here about Mr. Henshaw"s... unfortunate demise?"

"Right in one," Finn replied, catching the brief flicker of distress crossing her features. Amelia dove straight in.

"Ms. Corbin, do you happen to know if Mr. Henshaw had any enemies or anyone who might have wanted to harm him?" Amelia inquired, her gaze steady.

Ms. Corbin paused for a moment, considering the question carefully. "No one specific comes to mind, Detective. Mr. Henshaw was a prominent figure in the business community, and one doesn"t rise to his level without stepping on a few toes along the way," she replied with a hint of somber reflection.

Finn interjected, "Was Mr. Henshaw known for being particularly competitive with other businesses?"

Ms. Corbin hesitated briefly before responding, "It"s possible that he may have pushed boundaries at times. Success in this world often demands such actions."

Amelia pressed further, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean by "pushing boundaries"? Could you elaborate on that?"

A guarded expression crossed Ms. Corbin"s face as she maintained her professional demeanor. "I"m afraid I can"t divulge much more on internal company matters beyond stating that competition in our industry can be fierce."

Finn observed Ms. Corbin"s reaction keenly, noting the subtle shift in her demeanor as he decided to delve into a more specific line of questioning.

"Ms. Corbin, are you aware of a particular item Mr. Henshaw purchased recently? A... "difference engine," if that rings any bells?" Finn inquired, watching for any flicker of recognition in her eyes.

Ms. Corbin"s composure wavered slightly at the mention of the difference engine, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone. "Detective, I"m afraid I can"t discuss Mr. Henshaw"s private projects or acquisitions," she replied, her voice firm but betraying a trace of unease.

A small grin played on Finn"s lips as he leaned back slightly in his chair. "Ah, so there is indeed a project revolving around the difference engine?" Finn prodded gently, observing how Ms. Corbin"s facade faltered for a split second.

Ms. Corbin stumbled over her words momentarily, regaining her professional poise as she denied any knowledge of such a project. "I… I quite… I quite assure you, Detective Wright, Mr. Henshaw"s focus was primarily on the company"s technological advancements and business strategies," she stated firmly, though a subtle tension lingered in the air between them.

Amelia"s gaze sharpened, a glint of steel in her eyes as she leaned in slightly towards Ms. Corbin. "Ms. Corbin, we appreciate your cooperation thus far. However, if we suspect any obstruction in our investigation, we won"t hesitate to bring you in for questioning," she stated firmly but with a calculated edge.

Ms. Corbin"s composed facade cracked ever so slightly at the implied threat. Lowering her voice, she met Amelia"s unwavering stare and asked, "What do you want to know?" Her tone held a mix of wariness and guarded curiosity, hinting at hidden layers beneath her professional demeanor.

Finn observed the subtle power play between the two women, his detective instincts on high alert as he noted the shift in dynamics. It was a delicate dance of words and intentions, each move calculated to reveal just enough without giving away too much.

Amelia"s next question hung in the air like a silent challenge, her voice cool and measured. "Tell us about Mr. Henshaw"s interest in Victorian technology."

Ms. Corbin hesitated, her gaze darting to the now-closed office door. "I"m not privy to all the details. Lucas—Mr. Henshaw—was very secretive about it. Said it was going to change the tech world. Most of us were skeptical."

"Seems like a lot of secrets for an open-plan office," Finn quipped, but his eyes were serious. He noticed the tension in Ms. Corbin"s posture, the way her fingers played with the pen in her hand.

Ms. Corbin stood up and walked towards another door. "Whatever he was working on, Lucas spent hours in here," she said, finally opening the door to let them into the inner sanctum of Lucas Henshaw. "Alone, mostly. I don"t think anyone truly knew what he was onto."

The office was a shrine to contemporary design, sleek lines, and muted colors; a large desk dominated the space, surrounded by various digital screens. Yet, there was an absence, a sense of something hidden beneath the surface.

"Old books and diagrams, is that right?" Amelia pressed, her keen eyes scanning the room as if she could conjure the secrets from the walls themselves.

"Yes, quite the departure from his usual work," Ms. Corbin confessed. "He had a safe where he kept things... away from prying eyes."

Finn walked over to the expansive window, hands in his pockets, turning back to face Ms. Corbin. "Mind if we take a look at this safe?"

"Without a warrant?" she challenged, though her voice wavered slightly.

"It's better this way," Finn said, firmly. "Otherwise, we come in here and go over everything this company is sitting on, and that could get very messy, especially if you don't want Mr Henshaw's fascination with older tech getting into the public eye."

"You're perceptive," Ms. Corbin grinned. "If I'm honest, I thought Lucas was going mad. Why would a tech innovator look to the past with such glee? Clocks. Old cogs and gears. It's so outdated."

"And we're people in the boardroom worried about this newfound interest?" Amelia asked.

"It was a concern for everyone," Ms. Corbin said. "Lucas was the face of the company. His charisma and self-belief were what fueled the company"s meteoric rise."

"Let's not sully you're company then," Finn said, pointing to the back of the office, where a suspicious, overly-sized painting hung on a wall.

"Consider it a courtesy to avoid further disruption," Amelia interjected smoothly. "We"ll be in and out."

With a sigh, Ms. Corbin relented, moving to a painting hanging askew and revealing a state-of-the-art wall safe. She punched in a code, and the door swung open.

"Wouldn"t have pegged him for a fan of Victoriana," Finn observed, cocking his head as he peered inside the safe without touching anything. Books with worn spines, rolled-up diagrams, and a scattering of notes were visible.

"Lucas was obsessed, but brilliant," Ms. Corbin said, a touch of fondness creeping into her voice before it hardened again.

"Would you be averse to us going through some of these?" Finn asked.

"As far as I'm concerned," Ms. Corbin began, "the further Lucas's flights of fancy are away from the company, the better the chances are that there will still be a company for me to work at. Knock yourself out."

Finn pulled on some forensics gloves and then carefully pulled out the documents and parchments. Amelia then revealed an evidence bag, which she unfolded and held open as Finn placed the items inside of it.

Finn's mind now went to the second thread they needed to pull in the case—the anti-futurist, Tim Nolan. The man who had sent threatening messages to Emily Stanton. Finn felt that there must be a connection.

"Did Lucas ever mention someone named Tim Nolan?" Finn asked, watching her reaction closely.

"Can"t say he did," she responded, her brow furrowing. "Should he have?"

"He's an anti-tech blogger," Amelia explained. "We believe that he may be connected to some of this."

"The murderer?" Ms. Corbin asked.

"We wouldn't go that far," answered Amelia. "But a person of interest, and we wondered if Lucas had any dealings with him."

"I've never heard that name, sorry. Will there be anything else?"

"Would you be averse to us looking around here?" Finn asked.

"I don't think…" Ms. Corbin started. But Finn sensed that the protest wouldn't hold.

"As I said before, we'll just get a warrant, Ms. Corbin," Finn explained. "And that's a hassle, especially if the press get wind of us coming into your offices through legal force. It would be much better for the company, and for you, if we are able to quietly go about our business."

Ms. Corbin glared at Finn for a moment. "Okay, but don't tell the other board members, and please be quick."

"Thank you, Ms. Corbin," Amelia said.

Ms. Corbin turned and left the room.

Finn looked around. The room beyond was a dim cave of modernity—glass and chrome reflecting the sun outside. Amelia slipped in behind him, her presence a silent shadow that mirrored his own caution.

"Lucas clearly had a thing for the past," Finn murmured, sweeping his gaze over several shelves lined with leather-bound books, titles embossed in gold declaring their Victorian heritage.

Finn"s gaze swept over the shelves, lined with leather-bound books that seemed to whisper of a bygone era. Among them, an old, worn book caught his eye. Its spine bore the name "Ezra Bellamy" in faded gold letters, triggering a surge of recognition deep within Finn"s memory.

Turning to Amelia, Finn"s eyes lit up with realization. "I know this name," he said quietly but with a sense of urgency coloring his tone. "Ezra Bellamy... I remember seeing it among the books at Emily Stanton"s house."

Amelia"s face broke into a rare grin, her eyes alight with the thrill of progress in their investigation. "Finally, we have a connection," she exclaimed softly. "But who is Ezra Bellamy?"

"Let me see what we took from the safe, please," Finn asked.

Amelia removed the books and parchments from the evidence bag in her hand, laying them out on the desk. Finn"s gaze lingered on one particular book with a weathered cover. He picked it up, flipping through the pages before his eyes widened in recognition.

"This one, too," Finn pointed out, showing Amelia the name inscribed on the title page. "It"s by Ezra Bellamy as well."

Amelia studied the book closely, her brow furrowed in concentration. "We"ll need to find out who Ezra Bellamy is," she stated firmly, her mind already racing with possibilities as they delved deeper into the mysterious connections surrounding Lucas Henshaw"s hidden pursuits.

"Look at this parchment," she said, picking up on the drawings of intricate gears and springs. "This looks similar to the drawings we found at the old mill. He must have been deep into whatever he was working on. "

"Too deep," Finn agreed, thumbed through the book by Ezra Bellamy. The book was ancient, its pages yellowed and delicate, but what drew Finn"s attention were the feverish notes scribbled in the margins.

"Amelia, check this out." He pointed at a passage in the journal. "Our friend Lucas was not just a casual reader."

"Seems he fancied himself a decoder of sorts," Amelia said, leaning in closer to inspect the annotations. Numbers, symbols, and equations formed a chaotic constellation around the text.

"But without a codex, I doubt we can decipher what it means," Amelia mused.

"Here," Finn tapped on a note that stood out amongst the mathematical maelstrom. ""The Tempus Machine - key to control?" What do you make of that?"

"Tempus… I think that means Time in Latin," Amelia offered, her voice low. "A tempus machine would then infer something that controls time itself. Ms. Corbin was right, Lucas Henshaw really had lost his mind. A time machine? It's like something out of a steampunk novel."

"Look at this," Finn murmured, revealing hand transcribed notes on a piece of paper tucked inside one of the books. "Our man Lucas wasn"t the only one with flights of fancy. This is the same handwriting, and it looks like Lucas was working alongside someone else."

Finn pointed to a passage that read ‘Chronos knows. Must ask him about differential gear slip. Won't work without it. But don't trust him. Need to be careful.'

Amelia leaned in closer, her breath making its presence known on the back of Finn"s neck. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Someone who goes by "Chronos,"" he replied, scrolling through the exchanges.

"Isn't that another reference to the past?" Amelia asked. "I think Chronos was a Titan in Greek mythology."

"Different spelling," Finn said. He pulled out his phone and quickly searched for the name. He then read out loud what he had found. "I thought I'd heard of it. Chronos was a deity of sorts, he was the keeper of time itself. The being that kept time moving."

"A bit of a dramatic name," Amelia said. "Much like our killer's flair for the dramatic."

"Agreed," Finn said. "But look, on the same page. There are coordinates."

"We should put them into our maps app," Amelia suggested.

"Already on it." Finn"s eyes didn"t leave the screen as his fingers danced across the screen. The room around them faded into background noise—the hum of electronics, the soft wheeze of the air conditioning system—all underscored by the relentless ticking of the clock on the wall.

"Got a location," Finn announced, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

"Where does it lead us?" Amelia"s voice held a mix of anticipation and dread.

"Let"s find out." Finn pulled up a map on the screen, plotting the coordinates. A red dot blinked into existence, marking their destination. "A house on the outskirts of Bingham Town. Looks like it's Victorian."

"Of course, it is," Amelia said, pushing away from the desk with a sigh. "Let"s go pay a visit to our mysterious "Chronos.""