Read Online Journey Into the Flame by T. R. Williams - Free Book Online Page B

wink as they walked by. “What would you like to drink? Champagne? Or maybe some of our very own wine from one of John’s wineries?”
    “No, thank you,” Logan said. “I don’t really drink.” Ms. Crawley handed him a glass of champagne anyway. “Are all these people here to bid on the Chronicles ?” Logan asked, surveying the crowd.
    “Heavens, no, dear,” Ms. Crawley said. “The Chronicles are certainly the jewel of tonight’s auction, but we have many other interesting items for sale this evening. Speaking of which . . .” She put on her reading glasses, took out her PCD, and displayed an image of the night’s auction program. “See, the Chronicles are sixteenth on the list, the final item of the evening.”
    Logan pointed to the display. “What’s that number next to it?”
    “That is the starting bid, dear.” Ms. Crawley looked at Logan and squeezed his arm. “We have had a few preauction bids from people who are unable to attend.”
    Logan could only raise his eyebrows in disbelief. Just that starting bid would solve all of his financial problems.
    Ms. Crawley smiled. “This is the art world. All logic is thrown out the window.”
    Logan remained speechless as Ms. Crawley turned off the display and put her PCD away. “The auction is going to start in about fifteen minutes. When you hear the bell, that will be your signal to take a seat to watch the night’s events unfold.”
    “Yeah, that sounds great,” Logan responded, still thinking about the large number he had seen.
    Ms. Crawley gave him a pinch on the cheek and walked into the growing crowd, greeting the attendees.
    Logan was glad he didn’t know anyone there. Being an anonymous seller seemed to ease his guilt. Just a few more hours, and everything will be better , he thought, as he took his champagne flute and walked over to the large windows overlooking the busy streets of New Chicago. It was twilight. He could see the protesters marching up and down the sidewalk in front of the auction house and the police working to contain the crowd. Away from the ruckus, people were out walking, some with their pets, some with their children, and yet others by themselves. An open-air tour bus drove down Michigan Avenue, showing visitors the landmarks of New Chicago. In the distance, Logan saw the old Willis Tower, now nicknamed Stump Tower. During the Great Disruption, the top thirty-three floors had toppled over and crushed a whole city block. The top of the building hadn’t been rebuilt. It had just been capped with a platform that was used as a broadcasting facility.
    “Everyone has someplace to go, something to see, and something to do, don’t they?” a familiar voice commented. “Most, though, lookstraight ahead as they walk, missing the chance to greet all the interesting people walking by.”
    Logan turned around. It was Sebastian Quinn, the gentleman he had met earlier that day at the museum. “Mr. Quinn,” Logan began, then caught himself. “I mean, Sebastian.” He reached out and heartily shook his hand. “I didn’t expect to see anyone I knew tonight. Are you here to buy more artwork?”
    “No, not tonight,” Sebastian responded. “I am more intrigued by the Satraya books. I recently learned they were going to be auctioned off.”
    “Yes, the books,” Logan said awkwardly. “Their coming up for sale surprised many people.” He paused, experiencing another pang of guilt. “I bet you have a wonderful collection of books. They would be a great addition to your library.”
    “No, I am not here to purchase them,” Sebastian said, taking a sip of his red wine. “I came tonight to see where the books will choose to go.”
    “That’s an interesting choice of words,” Logan commented.
    “I suppose that after our meeting at the museum, you think I am a bit eccentric,” Sebastian said. “But there’s something special about the original sets of the Chronicles . Books such as these are not possessed randomly. There is