The Memorist

Chapter 31

Vienna, Austria

Monday, April 28^th-12:48 p.m.

The Memorist Society had only been open for fifteen minutes when Dr. Erika Alderman arrived to have lunch with Fremont Brecht and found him already in the clubroom and glued to the television. “You need to see this. The gaming box was just stolen,” he said without bothering to greet her.

On the screen Jeremy Logan stood outside of the Dorotheum auction house, being interviewed by a reporter explaining that a smoke bomb had apparently been used as a distraction while the thieves got away with the antique. Behind him police cars and fire engines continued pulling up to the scene with lights flashing and sirens shrieking. Meer stood off to her father’s side; her chin-length dark hair was tousled and her wide eyes looked haunted. There was dirt on the collar of her white shirt and a black button was hanging by a thread from her blazer.

“Damn it, Fremont,” Erika said. “How many close calls must we have before you do something about what’s going on here? Someone is spying on what we are saying.”

“You’re forgetting about the article in the newspaper. The Beethoven connection made both the letter and the box worth stealing.”

“But three robbery attempts in three days and two people dead over Beethoven relics? I don’t think so. Someone out there is very ruthless and determined, and I think it’s because they know something.”

“We will just have to be more ruthless and more determined,” he said. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of anyone owning the gaming box but us. I’ve said that from the beginning.”

“How can we get it if it’s no longer for sale?” Erika was confused.

“We find out who stole it,” Fremont said matter-of-factly. “And then we’ll steal it back.”