Eddington Black Market Cofffee

The next few days were dead ends, until an accident happened. I was tired of chasing dirt in back alleys, so I left Michael on the phone, and went into a little antique shop. There was a chess set, but it didn’t look like it was native to Eastern Europe.  

It looked odd, and I couldn’t place it. I pulled Michael off his cell and showed him. He yawned, ask the owner how much he wanted. The man gave a price, he shook his head and walked out. The owner followed him out, and they negotiated.  

We walked back in, and he bought I for a thousand. I bought an old beat up coffee pot, it was a good decorative piece for Stefaniak’s. When we left, I toyed with the idea of shopping some more, but Michael said no.

“We’re going back to Otecko and Sam. This is a piece that was stolen years ago. It was black market, but the dealer who was selling it with a load of stuff, got greedy. He asked more than his buyers wanted to pay.”

“They took his haul, and he was the one who paid. One item was never accounted for, a chess set. There were rumors that the seller’s assistant took a few pieces and escaped while the others were using bullets to open the front door.”

“No one ever knew who that was. Now I think I do. This shop, its connected to a particular black market dealer, one we know is chummy with the Professor. It’s not valuable, so they probably finally had the nerve to discard it. Now, we use it as leverage.”

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