"Inspector?"
Inspector Martin Brooks took his gaze away from the little fountain court sprawling a few floors below his office window, as he was known to do during the sparse moments of quiet he could find while at work. He always maintained that people watching kept his observation skills sharp, not sure he fully believed it himself. Maybe he kept repeating it as an excuse to play a little game. He turned towards the voice on the edge of the door.
"Yes?"
"We just got a report you might want to see. Another one."
"Another? Same M.O.?"
"Apparently."
"Where this time?"
"Berlin. Aegyptisches Museum."
"That's new. What else?"
"Same ordeal. Routine archives check and they identified a fake. By their estimation it's been gone for weeks."147Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFvvPspsFCH
"Have we heard from Wenzel yet?"
"No, just the report."
"You got the file?"
Detective Chambers pulled out a folder about 40 pages thick from behind his back and handed it over. Brooks dove right in and flipped through it. He pulled out his cellphone and found a Henrik Wenzel in his contacts list. The line rang twice before picking up.
"Brooks, hey."
"Hey."
"That was fast. I assume you heard about the Aegyptisches."
"Just about. What's this artifact?"
"By the museum's standards, nothing valuable, just ancient. A scarab amulet made of carnelian, the kind that would belong to a merchant, an artisan or local government."
"And they checked the rest of the archives?"
"Front to back. They've been on high alert ever since."
"But nothing else is missing."
"Nope."
"What do you make of it? Committing the perfect crime to steal something so insignificant?"
"Who knows, maybe it belonged to the thief's ancestors. Maybe they're putting together a collection."
"Yeah, maybe."
"Either way, seems like the low profile is working. What's the count now... Five?"
"Six with this one."
"That can't be a coincidence, right?"
"Not anymore, no."
"Leads?"
"Besides all of them being old, Egyptian and forgettable in terms of importance, nothing."
"The security footage should help."
"Don't hold your breath. Without a reference of when it happened, it'll take forever. We're still waiting to hear from everyone else."
"Alright, I'll let you know if something comes up."
"Same. Thanks Henrik."
Brooks went back to the folder, pulled out a couple of sheets from it, then turned to the big corkboard on the wall on his left side and pinned the pictures of the stolen amulet on the right side of the brown canvas, just about at the middle point. He sat on the short edge of his desk, the one facing the board, and stared.
A locket, an ostracon, a ring, a papyrus, an ankh and now this scarab. All gone missing in the last 18 months. Six different objects from six different museums. Same process: replaced with a perfect fake, under everyone's nose and nobody the wiser as to why or how. Random pieces of Egyptian history, attributed to nobodies and yet important enough to be the target of some high craft burglary. Surely there must have been more to them, what kind of importance did they have that nobody, not even the historians, were aware of? And more importantly, how many more pieces were there to steal? Would the theft stop at some point?
Brooks even thought that this was maybe practice or a distraction for something bigger and it got a chuckle out of him. He looked down, then around, grabbed his cigarettes and headed downstairs for a much needed hit of nicotine.
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