Excerpt: No Price For Tomorrow

“I knew your father,” she said, and the boy almost choked on the tea he was drinking.
“You did?” he asked then warily, thinking of the tales his aunt had told him about his father, the real reasons for his suicide, the hidden item and the organization of Merchants.
“He was a brave man,” Miss Dexter said. “A great friend. Loyal, skilled.”
“Thank you.”
“Mr. Leigh, what do you know of your father’s previous career?”
“What do you mean?” Morrison asked, now tense and clearly suspicious. Miss Dexter attempted a smile again.
“You father worked together with the company I am currently working with,” she explained. “Too bad he left his job unfinished.”
“What do you want from me, then?” Morrison asked. “No offence madam, but I know nothing of my late father’s work and therefore wouldn’t be able to help you in any way.”
“We could train you,” she replied. “You work currently in that silly little bookshop, no? I assure you we pay more for the hour.”
“I don’t really care about that stuff anymore,” Morrison said. “I mean the pay. I wouldn’t be able to live doing paperwork all day long.”
“We’d train you to the same profession as your father,” Miss Dexter told him gently, and Morrison’s fingers curled against the watch-mirror in his pocket. It was magical how suddenly he could practically sense how transparent her lies were; she couldn’t be his father’s friend and Aunt Matilda had told him that his father had worked against an organization, not in one.
‘It’s true what Aunt Matilda used to tell me, then,’ Morrison thought. ‘Lies have no reflections.’
“He was a… tracker of rare artefacts, so to say,” Miss Dexter continued. “He had an unusual talent.”