The meeting with Dr. Elena Vargas was set for a neutral, non-pawnshop location: a quiet, high-ceilinged cafe near the UCLA campus, shielded from the sun by deep awnings and old sycamore trees.
Fred and Dusky waited at a corner booth. Fred felt the constant thrum of his 2.7x enhancement, a quiet vigilance that made the cafe's chatter sound muted and predictable. He noticed the slight strain in the antique wooden beam holding up the ceiling, the precise composition of the stainless steel espresso machine, and the tiny, almost imperceptible stress fractures in the window glass.
Dusky was nervous. "Remember the rules, Fred. We're a clean operation. We found an ancient sextant at a flea market. We don't mention X-rays, the meteor, or the fact you can bench press a refrigerator."
Elena arrived precisely on time. She was sharp, mid-thirties, with severe glasses and a posture that spoke of long hours spent leaning over fragile manuscripts. She carried a slim portfolio and a skeptical frown.
"Mr. Fred. Mr. Dusky," she greeted them, her voice clipped and professional. "Dusky mentioned you have a navigational fragment that predates known European charting. Frankly, I'm expecting a very clever forgery."
Fred pushed the small, climate-controlled box containing the vellum fragment across the table. It was wrapped in a protective linen cloth, adding to the drama.
"We're confident this is genuine, Dr. Vargas. We just need to know what it is and where it points," Fred said, keeping his focus on her face, trying to gauge her reaction.
Elena ignored Fred's intense gaze and carefully lifted the vellum with gloved hands. She placed it under a high-powered jeweler's loupe and examined the ink. Her expression, which had been dismissive, slowly tightened into one of profound concentration.
Appraisal Data Log (Person):
* Object: Dr. Elena Vargas, Archaeologist and Antiquities Specialist.
* Current State: Professional skepticism overridden by intellectual fascination. Heart rate elevated 15 BPM.
* Motivation: To preserve historical accuracy and make a definitive, verifiable discovery in her field.
Fred watched as the Appraisal Log confirmed his initial assessment: she was honest, brilliant, and genuinely moved by history.
After several minutes, she lowered the loupe and pushed her glasses up.
"This is… extraordinary," she admitted, her tone shifting from doubt to reverence. "The base script is highly variant Paleo-Hebrew, but the stellar notation is the key. The ink composition alone is unlike anything I've studied. It's rich in magnetic iron oxide. But look here," she pointed to a repeating symbol adjacent to the star cluster.
"The star map section clearly outlines the constellation Perseus. Specifically, this cluster of symbols corresponds to Algol, the Demon Star."
"Algol," Fred repeated. "Dusky said that sounded encouraging."
Elena gave them a dry look. "Algol means 'ghoul' or 'demon' in Arabic, referencing its erratic brightness. But to the early Mithraic cults, it was the Eye of the Gorgon—a fixed point of occult power used for celestial geometry."
She began sketching rapidly on a napkin, translating the Paleo-Hebrew notations and cross-referencing them with the star chart. "They didn't mark locations in standard latitude and longitude. They marked them by celestial alignment. The symbols translate to a sequence: 'Under the gaze of the Demon Star, where three rivers meet the tide of the North Sea.'"
She stabbed the napkin with her pen. "The geographical coordinates embedded in the geometry—it's Antwerp, Belgium. The junction of the Scheldt, Rupel, and Nete rivers. It points to a specific, very old structure near the harbor."
Fred felt a rush of adrenaline. Antwerp. His abilities were confirmed: the random junk lot had indeed yielded a treasure map pointing to the first legendary fragment.
"This Star Map... it's not just a map, is it?" Fred asked, leaning in.
Elena looked Fred in the eye, finally seeing past the distraction of the "junk lot" story. "No. This is a sequence. A key. They used star alignment to hide a chain of objects. And if you found this one, that means there are others. This could rewrite the timeline of early Mediterranean trade."
Dusky coughed nervously. "Well, Fred's going to rewrite the timeline of his own bank account. So, Antwerp it is."
Fred spent the next two days preparing while Dusky arranged the meeting with the buyer for the container of French miniatures, netting them their $750,000. He upgraded his gear, bought a burner phone, and acquired documentation for European travel. His enhanced senses made preparation effortless; he learned Belgian railway schedules and Antwerp's historical architecture in a single evening.
During a break, Fred found himself staring at a fashion billboard near the 405 freeway—a massive advertisement for a luxury diamond brand. Diana's face, breathtakingly beautiful and poised, smiled down at the traffic.
Appraisal Data Log (Subject: Diana Rodriguez):
* Current State (Image): Projection of untouchable glamour. Contractually obligated smile.
* Accessory: The 'Astraea' diamond necklace (total 120 carats).
* Value: Retail: $12 million. Insurance value: $15 million.
* Subject Focus: Concentration on career advancement. Subtle financial anxiety related to familial responsibilities.
It was a cruel reminder. She was surrounded by millions in commercial value, yet burdened by real-world debt. His motivation, the desire to win her respect and secure their future, flared white-hot. He wasn't just chasing old maps; he was chasing the freedom that wealth could buy.
The night before the flight, Fred was organizing his passport and money clips when his X-ray vision flickered over a small, seemingly new feature of his front door.
His door had a cheap plastic peephole cover. Now, he could see a tiny, almost invisible pinprick carved into the plastic, placed just at the edge of the lens.
He focused his Appraisal Power.
Appraisal Data Log: Object: Surveillance Pinprick.
* Origin: High-grade Industrial Laser, modified for precision carving.
* Purpose: Non-visual, targeted tracking (micro-vibration and sound dampening measurement).
* Attribution: Pattern consistent with Theodore Vance's private security contractor (The Curator).
Fred felt a surge of cold fury. Vance hadn't bought the container to test Fred's bidding; he bought it to confirm Fred's interest in hidden items, and he confirmed it with a thirty-five thousand dollar bid. Now, Vance had put a subtle surveillance device on his home. The game had just escalated from suspicious observation to active tracking.
The realization pushed Fred's physical enhancement past the subtle threshold again. A faint tingling ran down his spine, settling into his limbs. His reflexes tightened, his perception expanding marginally. He was now steadily moving toward 3x enhanced capacity. He felt incredibly ready.
He gently removed the peephole cover and held it up, inspecting the microscopic laser mark.
He knew he couldn't leave evidence of his knowledge. He walked into his kitchen, took a handful of steel wool, and, with the perfect precision afforded by his increased strength and coordination (2.7x), meticulously ground the pinprick into dust, dissolving the marker without leaving any visible trace of alteration.
Later, as Dusky came over to finalize the travel plans, Fred casually handed him the Patek watch.
"Take this, Dusky. Go see a few high-end shops in Beverly Hills. Flash it. Let people think we're selling off an inheritance, not starting a new fortune. Let Vance see the sale."
"You want me to throw him a red herring?" Dusky asked, pocketing the heavy gold watch.
"A beautiful, expensive, distracting red herring," Fred confirmed. "He needs to believe we're small-time money movers. Not hunters of the impossible."
They went over the Antwerp plan: fly commercial, take the train, and operate under the cover of searching for obscure, late-19th-century Flemish artifacts. Elena would meet them there, providing legitimate academic cover.
As the sun set over the Torrance rooftops, painting the sky in fiery orange and indigo, Fred looked at his packed bag—a single, lightweight carry-on that contained his passport, cash, and the brittle vellum map fragment, the key to the Demon Star's geometry.
The white-collar world was gone. The simple life was over. He was leaving the country, chasing a centuries-old puzzle, with hundreds of thousands of dollars and the full, terrifying attention of a global rival. The feeling was intoxicating.
"Antwerp," Fred said, a hint of a smile finally cracking his stoic facade. "Let's go find some gold under the gaze of the Demon Star."