On Monday morning, Benedict got up early as usual and set off for work. The night had brought little recovery; without painkillers, normal walking was hardly possible. The fight with Moonshadow had left its mark. He not only had one or two cuts, but also an entire mosaic of bruises, stiff muscles, and dull headaches.
Even half blind and under the influence of tear gas, he had still been able to fight back and beat Benedict until he lost consciousness. On top of that, the annoying phantom thief had even worn a mask and a deep hood.
Benedict had fought many battles in his life.
However, he had almost always emerged as the victor.
He could not remember ever having been knocked unconscious after a fight. Something about this phantom thief was different, and although he had failed across the board, he was nevertheless euphoric at the thought of seeing the bastard again. It would give him the greatest pleasure to lock the little bastard up. It was a challenge he could not ignore, and now that he had discovered these strange feelings for Isaac, he needed something else to distract himself anyway.
The slippery phantom thief was just what he needed.
The tear gas trap had worked. The tripwires too. However, they would still need to make some fine adjustments for the next heist so they could make Moonshadow's life truly difficult.
After all, he had suffered some rather painful hematomas because of the phantom thief, and Benedict tended to hold grudges about that sort of thing.
He reached Café Noir at around half past six in the morning. The walk there cleared his head, and by now the painkiller had taken effect.
Benedict had arranged to meet Jasper early in the office so they could go over a few things before the morning briefing.
He had not seen Isaac since the previous week and had heard nothing from him either. As expected, he did not seem to be someone who used his phone much to stay in touch. All the more he looked forward to seeing him that morning. Since they had talked and Isaac had not been opposed to meeting him again, he had become something like an oasis of calm for Benedict.
Simply seeing the man with the striking albino features was enough to let him recharge his strength.
The guilty conscience toward Dan, however, was still present. How could it disappear when he was reminded of Dan every day in his apartment? He did not even want to get rid of the memory of him; he wanted to keep Dan in his heart forever, and he would never be able to forget him. Yet every day he noticed more that he was accepting his feelings for Isaac.
He entered the café. Expecting to see Isaac behind the counter as usual, a smile crept onto his lips. However, it was not Isaac serving the customers, but his loud, cheerful colleague.
Noah.
Benedict grimaced immediately. Of course Isaac had to have the day off today of all days. He had been looking forward to talking to him and then heading to work with his coffee. When it was his turn, he placed his order, had everything packed up for himself, Jasper, and Sebastian, and set off toward the precinct.
Of course Isaac was entitled to a day off. He couldn't work every day. But why did it have to be today?
He went straight to Jasper's office and entered since the door was open.
Jasper didn't react right away. He sat in front of the screen reading intently, his brow furrowed. On the desk lay a tablet with an open report and several paper files piled up in messy stacks.
"Morning," he finally grumbled.
The tone said enough. Benedict didn't need to ask what was bothering him. The last operation hadn't made anyone look good.
He set the coffee cups and the bags with breakfast on the table. In doing so, he noticed Jasper had his left leg propped up.
"You sure you should already be back at work?"
Jasper snorted. "I sit most of the day anyway. Besides, nothing's broken — just sprained. I'm definitely not staying home at this stage of the case."
During the raid he had been right in the middle of it himself. If Moonshadow hadn't crashed into him, he probably wouldn't have been injured. He had a cut on his chin that had been stitched up at the hospital the same evening, and he had also sprained his right wrist.
In addition, his sprained leg bore a substantial gash that certainly hurt like hell.
"Stubborn," Benedict muttered.
"I don't want to hear that coming from you."
Benedict sat down on the chair opposite and ignored the jab.
"How's it looking?"
"Except for one of our colleagues, only one isn't coming in. The knife went pretty deep into his arm and did quite a bit of damage. He wants to come back in two days and at least help with paperwork."
Benedict grimaced. In this group no one seemed willing to hold back; they were all working flat out on the case, and apparently nobody wanted to be responsible for slowing them down — especially not right after the incident.
"He was pretty lucky."
Jasper nodded. "Definitely. A miracle his artery wasn't severed. He'll manage."
"And the case?" Benedict asked.
Jasper leaned back, a hand at the back of his neck. "Nothing. Again nothing. No usable video footage, no traces, no DNA. And the knife is gone — he took it with him."
Benedict stared at the files.
"Shit."
"You can say that again. We also don't know how he got in. Or how he got away. He was in the gallery first, then you followed him. When we arrived you were lying unconscious on the floor and Moonshadow was gone. We were only a few minutes behind you."
Irritated, Jasper took a sip of his coffee and grimaced as he burned his tongue.
"Damn hot."
He set the cup down and briefly rubbed the corner of his mouth.
"He showed up and vanished like a ghost again, as if he'd never been there at all. Only our own injuries prove that this guy was physically present," Jasper growled. He leaned back in his chair in annoyance. "Why does he even wear white? Don't criminals usually go for dark colors — preferably black?"
"Don't ask me," Benedict sighed. "I'd very much like to find that out myself."
"These damn thieves are annoying. We couldn't even arrest Ink Phantom, even though we had seven times as many officers outside!"
Benedict tilted his head. "How did he escape, actually?"
Jasper grimaced. "Through a swarm."
"What kind of swarm?"
"All the reports say a massive swarm of flies appeared, and when it dispersed, Ink Phantom had vanished too."
Benedict ran a hand over his face. He tapped his foot nervously. Everything surrounding the thieves was beyond anything they had ever known from ordinary criminals. Involuntarily, he thought of the forum posts about Ink Phantom.
They all talked about magic.
While Moonshadow dissipated as if he had never existed, Ink Phantom disappeared amid a swarm of flies. If I hadn't experienced it myself, I'd dismiss all of it as nonsense.
"As far as I know, flies can't be trained," Benedict said dryly.
Jasper gave a brief, humorless laugh. "They don't."
"If I remember correctly, there were videos of huge birds carrying him away last time. Why switch to flies now?"
"Maybe because we opened fire on Moonshadow last time. I can't tell you. In any case, there were so many that the officers didn't have a clear line of sight from any position."
"So he's unharmed, Moonshadow got away, and they successfully stole the painting?"
"That's how it looks."
"Damn," Benedict muttered.
They were silent for a while, drinking their coffee. Benedict's thoughts raced. There had to be some way to finally catch the thieves.
"The tear gas had an effect."
Jasper waved it off. "He looked a bit disoriented, but he still managed to take out six trained cops on his own." He winced in pain, and Benedict was more than aware of his own injuries.
"Still, he didn't see one or two hits coming. I landed some solid blows."
Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Sure you remember correctly? You looked more like he used you as training equipment."
"Shut up."
Jasper chuckled quietly. "What were you trying to say?"
Benedict leaned forward.
"We cornered him and he gave everything to get away. Like a wounded animal, he produced strength we didn't expect," Benedict explained as a plan slowly formed in his mind. "We know almost nothing about him. From the way he fought me, I suspect he knows martial arts — and not just one discipline."
"Okay, but without a clue to his identity, we're just playing guessing games."
"It won't tell us who he is, but it'll help us prepare."
Jasper thought for a moment. "Do you happen to know which technique he used?"
"Not exactly, but I wanted to research that this week."
"No idea if that'll help, but go ahead. We've got nothing else we can use anyway, and adjusting the profile of our phantoms is a good idea."
"Alright. Also, I'd structure the traps a bit differently."
"In what way?"
Benedict grinned as an idea occurred to him. Jasper raised a hand to stop him from speaking.
"Wait — is this idea still within legal limits?" Jasper asked.
"Should just about fit," Benedict replied with a shrug.
Jasper now grinned broadly as well. "Then let's hear it."
___
Benedict spent the week researching again. He compared Moonshadow's movement patterns with every martial art he could find and had meanwhile determined that Moonshadow had developed his own style from various disciplines.
A very fast and fluid style that reminded Benedict of a panther.
It still frustrated him that they had no usable evidence. There wasn't much left for them to do except compile everything into a complete report and move on to other tasks. Part of the team, for example, reviewed all the new online videos about Ink Phantom.
Another part coordinated with the museums so that appropriate countermeasures could be implemented.
The perpetrators worked unconventionally. So the police had to do the same.
Benedict even liked this part of the job, and it was enjoyable to come up with new traps or improve the previous ones. If everything went well, the next heist would be the last for these damn thieves. Catching Ink Phantom would only be difficult. They would probably only get him if they shot him early on.
Of course, he would prefer to take him alive, but dead was acceptable too — as long as they got Moonshadow alive. Which, in his and Jasper's assessment, would be much easier.
His morning route led him, as usual, to Café Noir. He hoped to finally run into Isaac that morning, because unfortunately he had not been there for three days in a row and he was starting to worry.
He didn't know what was going on with Isaac — whether he simply had extended time off or had fallen ill. Benedict entered the café, and that morning it was again not Isaac behind the counter, but the café's owner. Kieran, if he remembered correctly.
"Good morning," Benedict greeted him when it was his turn.
"Good morning," Kieran replied with a friendly smile.
He was the kind of person around whom one felt comfortable. Certainly no innocent — Benedict had seen him flirt shamelessly with female customers often enough. Still, he seemed like someone people liked to confide in. Someone who listened and made you feel better after talking to him.
It was the charm of an experienced middle-aged man who, without effort, radiated a pleasant calm.
Benedict nodded. "And a caramel macchiato and a latte as well, please."
"Right away."
Kieran immediately began preparing the order. Benedict watched him and, as on the days before, compared Kieran's movement patterns with Isaac's. The café owner definitely knew what he was doing, but like Noah, he still couldn't match the elegance and quality Isaac displayed.
"Is Isaac alright?" he asked when he thought of him again.
Kieran looked at him in surprise. "He's just sick, nothing more," he replied and continued working.
"I see," Benedict said thoughtfully.
Isaac lives alone — does he have anyone looking after him?
Maybe I should write to him, or I could cook something and bring it over. As reserved and distant as Isaac is, he probably doesn't have many people checking on him. Maybe that friend he mentioned.
Kieran's smile grew warmer. "He'll be back soon," he continued conversationally. He briefly studied him while preparing the coffee. "You've become a regular here recently, if I'm not mistaken."
Had he really been coming here long enough to count as a regular? It had been at least a month since he started getting his breakfast here every day.
Strange how things sometimes turn out. If Sebastian hadn't brought me that coffee to go, and Jasper hadn't given me leave that same day, I would never have come to this café.
I would have remained just as stubborn and wouldn't have found my way back to myself at all. I wouldn't have met Isaac — and above all not these feelings I kept locked away for so long.
He paused for a moment and took in the pleasant atmosphere of the café. This was the place he had sought refuge so he wouldn't have to stay at home. The café had simply been there. Nobody knew him here, nobody talked at him. He was simply present and could pass the time like everyone else.
A smile touched his lips. No one here had pitied him or reminded him of Dan. Here he hadn't had to grieve. He could breathe. Here he never had to pretend, and no one cared enough to ask uncomfortable questions.
Even if things progressed with Isaac — somehow he felt the quiet albino would never pressure him.
He liked this café.
"I've really become addicted to the coffee here," Benedict laughed. "It's honestly frightening how quickly that can happen."
Kieran chuckled in amusement.
"There are many things to consider in preparing coffee so the aroma can fully develop."
Kieran explained calmly as he packed everything neatly together.
"Whatever your secret is, it makes me not want to drink coffee anywhere else," Benedict joked — though he meant it completely seriously.
"That will certainly please Isaac. He makes a great effort to satisfy his customers, even if he doesn't seem like it."
He's definitely different when you get to know him privately.
Should he just visit him? No, that would be strange. They weren't close enough yet for him to simply show up at Isaac's home. However, he could text him and check on him. Benedict had the feeling Isaac accepted help only with difficulty and would block him at the door if he appeared unannounced.
While he was still lost in thought, Kieran placed his order in front of him.
"Have a nice day," said the friendly shop owner. "I look forward to our next meeting."
"You have a nice day as well," Benedict said with a smile.
Still on his way outside, he took out his phone and wrote Isaac a message.
Benedict
Hello Isaac
How are you?
It somehow felt strange to write to him after a week of silence between them. His heart pounded like a teenager's as he nervously waited for a reply. He kept catching himself looking at the screen, hoping to see a message from Isaac.
But nothing came.
He's probably still asleep. Isaac will surely reply once he's awake.
In a good mood, he went to the office. In his mind he was already going through various dishes he might cook for Isaac. He hadn't cooked himself in a long time, but he wouldn't mind doing it again.