A Heartless Design by Elizabeth Cole

curtsey. She closed the door softly behind him. He noticed, yet again, a slight strangeness in her manner, but he couldn’t put his finger on what was odd about it.
    He walked back outside, glad to be in the fresh air and away from the distracting Miss Bering. Something was terribly wrong in that house. Something simple perhaps, but significant.
    Thorne headed for his favorite club, a haven for gentlemen trying to escape the life of the
ton,
and the likely location of a friend he needed to speak to. The building itself was set back from the street, and even the neighbors seemed to forget that it was not a private residence. Thorne walked up to the massive door in the front, and a liveried servant opened the door for him.
    The interior was cool and relatively dim, since the old stone walls of the mansion were thick, and the few windows in the front hall had their shades drawn. Another man saw him and said, “Good afternoon, Lord Thorne.” He was the club’s equivalent of a butler. His name was Baxter, and he had a terrifyingly accurate memory.
    Thorne nodded to him. “Do you happen to know if Lord Forester is here?” Which was a silly question. Baxter undoubtedly knew the precise location of every person in the building, and probably what they had all ordered to drink as well.
    “He is in the library, I believe,” Baxter murmured.
    Thorne went up the stairs. He found the man he was looking for exactly where Baxter said he would be, sitting in a large leather chair with a book his hand, although he was not reading it. Instead, he was sleeping.
    “Wake up,” Thorne said as he got closer.
    Forester opened his eyes even as Thorne spoke, suggesting that he hadn’t really been asleep. Bruce Allander, Lord Forester, was even taller than Thorne; his legs stuck out past the chair and under the one that sat opposite him. His jet black hair was messy. An untouched glass of whiskey sat on the table by his side.
    “Are you busy?”
    “Do I look busy?” Forester laughed, spreading his arms to indicate the complete lack of activity surrounding him. In fact, they were the only two people in the small library at the moment, which suited them both very well.
    “I have a question about astronomy,” Thorne began.
    “For that, I have to get some air,” Forester said. “Step outside with me.”
    The two men walked back down to the ground floor, exchanging a few words with Baxter as they left. They strolled toward a park, not speaking until they were well away from any buildings, and no one was near them on the path.
    “What’s in the wind?” Forester finally asked in a low voice. He didn’t look at Thorne as he spoke, and anyone watching the pair would merely think the two men were chatting idly while heading someplace equally idle.
    In truth,
idle
was a terrible word to describe Forester. Like Thorne, he had been recruited into the Zodiac several years ago. He’d joined the army more out of curiosity than any need to prove himself. He was a big man, naturally athletic, and had a good mind for strategy. When Neville first assigned the two men to work together on a mission, it had been the start of a camaraderie based on mutual respect. Whenever Thorne needed a second, Forester was the man he went to.
    Thorne began to explain. “I’m looking for some plans for something called Andraste.”
    “What the hell is that?”
    “I wish I knew.”
    “Aries mentioned you had a new mission, but he didn’t elaborate,” Forester said. “He knew you’d tell me if you needed anything. How can I help?”
    “I ran into a name. Alfred Bering. Did you ever hear it?”
    Forester considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Who is he?”
    “Who
was
he. He was an engineer. Primarily, he designed ships.” 
    His friend nodded. “I think I begin to understand. But this man is dead?”
    “For years. But the work he did is still around, and people are now very interested in it. Someone stole