Almost as if of its own accord, the tip of his ballpoint pen flew across the paper of the notepad. The pages filled with hurried lines, arrows, and keywords while, in his mind, the events of the past night replayed over and over again.
It had been so close.
He had been just about to catch the phantom thief. Well, at least one of the two. There was Ink Phantom, the phantom thief who dressed entirely in black and always put on an enormous show whenever he appeared. And then there was the other, unknown phantom—the one clad completely in white, cracking locks faster than any thief he had ever encountered.
Why white? Didn't criminals usually dress in dark, muted colors? Of course, there were exceptions. Especially among the Mafia clans operating more or less openly in the city's shadows, there were the occasional flamboyantly dressed peacocks.
For whatever reason, crime was accompanied by the courage to wear striking outfits.
However, in his career so far, Benedict had never seen anyone dressed entirely in white. He couldn't get the image out of his head: the thief standing before him, illuminated by the light of the full moon.
Everything about him had drawn Benedict's attention—his movements, the way he had evaded his colleagues, and how, in the blink of an eye, he had seized Aurora's Tear despite all the security precautions. Benedict was more than certain it had been this man who committed all the thefts, not the infamous Ink Phantom.
He would have given anything to see his face.
He made a rough sketch, even though he wasn't particularly good at drawing and couldn't really remember the outfit. It had been such a brief moment amid absolute chaos that only a few details remained in his mind.
The tight-fitting trousers, the boots, and the hooded jacket that reached just to his waist. He had worn the turtleneck tucked into his trousers, and his face… had that been a mask? If he remembered correctly, he had been wearing gloves as well.
He sighed. If only he knew where he had wounded him.
The impact of the bullet had been fairly high when the thief was already vanishing around the corner. Chest, arms, or even back were all possible. Most likely it had only been a graze—or possibly a through-and-through shot. But for a through-and-through wound, there had been too little blood.
He sketched the route the thief had taken from the crime scene to where he had disappeared. He once again carefully noted where he believed he had fired, where the bullet had struck, and how far the trail of blood had led.
When had they called in over the radio that Ink Phantom had vanished?
At what time had the other phantom appeared?
He tapped the pen against his lip absentmindedly.
Black and white.
Why black and white? Did it have some kind of meaning? He tried to recall everything that came to mind associated with black and white.
Light and shadow.
Yin and yang.
Bright and dark.
Hope and ruin.
Maybe it had something to do with human intentions?
For a moment his hand stilled. Was this even important, or was he getting lost in trivial details? He needed more information. Had any of his colleagues ever seen this man before? Probably not—by now he knew every detail of the thefts, and there had never been even the slightest note about another phantom. How tall had he been? And how the hell had he gotten inside?
The only thing he could say for certain was that the man had been well-built. Slim and athletically muscled, and fast. Incredibly fast. He desperately hoped they had footage of him, just to get a rough idea of how he performed over short distances.
He could hardly wait for the upcoming morning briefing.
"Weren't you supposed to leave at half past seven? If you don't get going, you'll be late for work."
The calm, pleasant voice suddenly tore him from his thoughts.
He flinched almost imperceptibly, glanced to his right, and looked at Isaac, who was in the process of clearing away the used dishes. The waiter was so close to him that he could smell his pleasant perfume. He cleared the dishes almost noiselessly. When one of his strands of hair fell into his face, he elegantly tucked it behind his ear.
Since he was looking down at the table, his lashes were lowered.
The one word that came to Benedict's mind when he looked at the man was beautiful. It should be illegal for a guy to have eyelashes that long. At least Isaac wasn't shooting him a death glare again for staring—he was too busy with the dishes.
What had he just said? That he'd be late?
Benedict quickly checked his wristwatch and would have nearly jumped up with a curse, if Isaac hadn't spoken up in time.
"Oh damn—thank you for telling me. I was so focused I completely lost track of the time."
"I had a moment," Isaac replied, politely distant.
With that, the waiter turned away while Benedict hastily stuffed his things into his backpack. He ordered a coffee to go and paid his bill before heading off to the police station.
He still had plenty of time to arrive at work punctually.
Isaac is really a nice guy, even if he comes across as a bit cool. If it hadn't been for him, I definitely would've been late.
Satisfied, Benedict took his seat at his desk and waited for his colleagues to finally arrive. While he waited, he drank his third coffee of the morning.
___
"I'll briefly summarize what we have so far," Jasper said after they had discussed the events of the previous evening.
Their meeting had already been going on for two hours, and there wasn't much else on the agenda for the day besides analyzing everything and gathering all the evidence. They were still waiting on one or two reports, but that didn't stop them from at least reviewing everything their units had experienced.
"No one saw when or where he got in. He took advantage of the chaos and unnoticed picked both security locks that had been specially installed to protect Aurora's Tear. He not only outsmarted five highly trained police officers with years of experience, he also managed to escape them—even though they had visual contact with him. All seals on windows and doors are still intact, and to make matters worse, that damned thief was wearing white, which definitely should have stood out. Especially in the dark."
Jasper rattled it all off in a more or less irritated tone. His icy gaze swept across the colleagues in the room.
"Is that correct, or did I forget anything?" he asked, his eyes settling on Benedict.
An embarrassed silence fell over the room. They had failed across the board.
"Were you able to analyze the blood?" Benedict asked calmly.
They may have failed, but that was no reason to bury their heads in the sand. This wasn't the first cunning criminal he had hunted.
Jasper shook his head. "The DNA sample is still running through the database. We should have results by midday," he sighed. "It can't be that this guy managed to pull off his job despite all the security measures."
Jasper wasn't alone in that thought. Benedict, too, found it hard to accept reality.
Forty officers had been stationed in the museum. Every major entrance and exit had been monitored thoroughly, as well as the exhibit itself. No one had seen the thief until Benedict did. He moved with such extreme speed that it seemed almost impossible.
The posts from the Ink Phantom forum immediately came back to him. Magic. The people there always talked about magic when it came to the Phantom. He still considered that utter nonsense. But the man really was fast—he had to give him that.
"The forensic report isn't in yet either?" Laura asked.
She sat to Benedict's left and had been one of the officers guarding the room with him. She and the other three colleagues hadn't seen or heard anything; with the darkness and the noise, it had been hard to focus on anything else. The thieves had effectively knocked out two of their senses in one move.
They really weren't stupid. Their tactics changed every time, and yet they weren't the only ones constantly evolving.
Unfortunately, the police were always at a disadvantage, because all they could do was guess what the thieves might do next.
Jasper's gaze shifted to Laura. He shook his head. "No, not yet. Same goes for the technical report. There was a complete failure of the surveillance systems. Not only the cameras and our communications network were affected, but also all laser alarms and even the code-secured door locks. It's unclear where the guy went inside the museum. And it will take time before we've completely turned the place upside down."
He muttered a quiet curse under his breath.
"And if that damned press conference weren't breathing down my neck, this whole mess would be a lot easier to handle."
Benedict stared at his notebook, which he had filled with additional sketches and notes during the meeting. His eyes now rested on the rough floor plan of the level where the display case containing Aurora's Tear had been located. In his mind, he traced possible escape routes.
"Jasper," he said finally. "The thief probably escaped through the emergency exit. Didn't the officers outside see him?"
Another shake of the head. "None of the colleagues posted outside saw anything. It's like the guy was a damn ghost who just dissolved into thin air. Besides, that emergency exit was still sealed."
That left only the air ducts. Maybe the guy had simply waited inside them until he could slip away, laughing his head off while they searched for him. Benedict clenched his jaw. The thought alone made him angry. He was just about to ask Jasper whether the ventilation shafts had been checked, when the door swung open and Sebastian appeared in the doorway.
Jasper turned toward him irritably.
"We're in the middle of a briefing. What do you want?" he snapped. His patience seemed to be hanging by a thread.
Sebastian handed him a newspaper. "Figured this might interest you," he said.
Jasper took the paper, his expression questioning—then darkening with anger. A bad feeling settled in Benedict's stomach.
"How the hell did they manage to get a drone through?" Jasper muttered angrily.
"No idea," Sebastian replied. "I just stumbled across it by chance. But the media's in a real uproar over it."
Jasper kept his eyes fixed on the article. "Thanks, you can go," he said distractedly.
When the door closed behind Sebastian, Jasper exhaled heavily. He rubbed his face with both hands and leaned against the table before setting the newspaper down slowly.
"They're calling him Moonshadow. Someone managed to film the second phantom with a drone. The photo quality isn't particularly good. Laura, check the forum for the corresponding video so we're all up to speed." His gaze shifted from Laura to Rick. "I want the full scope of this mess on my desk in half an hour. Take care of it and coordinate with tech. The rest of you, take a short break."
Laura and Rick nodded to him and immediately went to work on their new tasks. The others stood up, stretching before leaving the room to grab fresh coffee or step outside for a cigarette.
Benedict got up and walked over to Jasper to take a look at the photo. He nearly laughed—it was that bad.
"Reminds me of those old UFO sighting photos."
"The photo's still miles better than your terrible sketch," Jasper snorted with amusement. "You really missed your calling as an artist."
Benedict shrugged with a grin. "As long as you can tell what I'm trying to show, it's all good," he said while studying the image in the newspaper. It was extremely blurry, taken in the dark and in motion. He wouldn't have been surprised if it were just a screenshot from the video itself. "If I remember correctly, you formed a pretty clear picture in your head rather quickly."
"This whole thing is a disaster," Jasper said.
"What are you going to tell the press?" Benedict asked, setting the newspaper down.
Jasper sighed. "The truth—minus all the details that actually matter for the case."
"So basically nothing."
"Exactly," Jasper said. He picked the paper back up. "Moonshadow, huh. I want this guy behind bars as soon as possible. He's played games with us long enough."
"It's almost a miracle he stayed undiscovered for so long."
"That just shows how good he is—though I hate to admit it," Jasper replied as he stood up and stretched. "I really hope the blood analysis turns up something. By the way, good work. It's the first real lead on the thief's identity—at least one of them."
"I wish I'd hit him properly."
"It was your first time on one of those thefts. You've already done more than quite a few colleagues who've been on the case much longer," Jasper said, placing a hand on Benedict's shoulder. "I trust you'll catch him. After all, you're my favorite pit bull in the squad. Once you latch on, nobody gets away. Seriously, Ben—if anyone can do it, it's you."
Jasper spoke so quietly that only Benedict could hear him. They had been friends for many years, having gone through police training together. Alongside Sebastian, Jasper was one of his closest and best friends—even if they couldn't show it too openly at the precinct. They didn't want to fuel rumors that Benedict and Sebastian were favored because of their friendship.
A small smile played across Benedict's lips.
"You really have a lot of faith in me," he replied just as softly.
Benedict didn't feel even half as useful as Jasper made him sound—but Jasper was right. He was back in the game. He was more than capable of handling the case, and he was confident he could bring down the phantom duo. No matter how much time and effort it would take. He would prepare himself—and come up with one or two traps that Moonshadow wouldn't be able to escape.
He gave Jasper a confident grin.
"I'm here to end that guy's winning streak. Trust me, Jasper—I'll do everything I can to catch him."
"I don't doubt that for a second." Jasper grinned just as confidently. For the first time that morning, he looked relieved. "Coffee?"
Benedict shrugged. He had already had three coffees that morning—a fourth really wouldn't hurt.
"Sure. But you're paying—considering I work my ass off every day for your precious prestige," Benedict replied with a grin.
Jasper laughed. "I'll give you anything you want if you just solve this damned case," he promised.