Julian Sterling leaned down, his trembling fingers picking up the remnants scattered at the bottom of the cabinet. The first sensation was cold, a chill radiating from the metal of objects that had lain undisturbed for a decade, the damp, musty air of the storage room, and the cold creeping from within his own chest, spreading to his very fingertips.
There was not much left in the cabinet. The intruder had scavenged through almost everything, but perhaps they had been interrupted, or time did not permit them to inspect each item thoroughly. The proof lay in the fact that these things were still here, albeit tossed about in disarray.
