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When Jordan realized what was inside the package, he paused in unwrapping it, eyes narrowing in thought. A phone, delivered anonymously and discreetly to him, though all active trainees and Hunters carried their phones at all times. He put it down on the desk, got up, and locked the door before returning and pulling off the rest of the paper, checking it over briefly for any markings or evidence of where it might have come from before folding it and putting it into the back of the desk drawer.

There were two texts and an unfamiliar icon that stood out; the rest of the contents of the phone seemed relatively normal, except for the contact list with only a single name in it. Mark. Jordan frowned. That name sparked an echo in his memory, but he couldn't place it. Ferros?

I don't know either, the dragon said.

Someone had to have put this phone here for me to find, Jordan reasoned. Whoever did that is offering me the chance to follow a lead that I wouldn't have otherwise had. The fact that it was done with such care to avoid notice suggests that this is either unofficial or a test of some sort. Either way, I should assume that I'm supposed to keep this private or judge very carefully as to whom I call in to help. Make sense so far?

Small words, Ferros said sarcastically.

Oh, yes, I forgot, Jordan returned in the same tone. I'm not supposed to have this, whoever put it in front of my door knows that and did it anyway, and that means I shouldn't tell anyone else unless I absolutely need to.

I did catch that.

Well, then, you shouldn't tell me to summarize. A moment of amused mutual understanding, then Jordan returned his attention to the problem at hand. Both new texts are from Mark, and he's the only one in the contact list. He hesitated. If this phone - if this was Sandy's, whoever delivered it to me knows she - she doesn't need it any more. He closed his eyes for a moment, pushing away the memory of splashing and screams cut short. If Mark knows she's dead, then he's sending texts to a phone that someone else has by now, which would mean that he's giving the recipient deliberate hints. If that's the case, it's probable that he's the one who left it for me, or he knows it's been left for me.

Sounds logical, Ferros agreed. I can follow that.

If he doesn't know she's dead, Jordan continued, then whoever left the phone for me is directing me towards Mark for information, but I'll need to be careful about what I ask and how. The second message suggests that he'll be mostly out of contact for two weeks. When he returns, he'll find out, if he hasn't already, so that's the amount of time I have to find anything out using this phone. Unless I find that he knows what's going on, I'll have to get rid of it before then. He paused and rubbed a hand across his eyes. I feel bad impersonating the dead, he said quietly.

You could give it to someone else in Death, Ferros said.

You know we'll never hear a damn thing about it again if I do that.

What if it's not Sandy's?

Then I've been given a phone that belongs to someone else, and whether they're alive or dead, I'm still not supposed to have it, Jordan said. Even if it isn't Sandy's phone, my chain of reasoning holds. I should avoid names, though.

He flipped back and forth between the texts again, looking carefully at each. I don't have a frame of reference for the numbers mentioned in the second text, so if I want any information I'll either have to ask Mark or use the information in the first text. The extra icon asks for a three-digit code, and the first message mentions an access code. He bit the edge of his thumbnail as he thought, an old and unconscious habit. Ones and zeroes - binary?

A moment of calculation made him shake his head. No, the number's too big. Three binary numbers? Also too big. So it's something else. Three zeros, maybe they mark number separation. Three ones, zero, four ones, zero, four ones, zero. 3-4-4?

He returned to the interface and pressed the spiral icon; when it requested a passcode, he entered 344.

Let's see if this does anything, he said to Ferros.

Had that been a response to the code, or had it been coincidental? Jordan stared at the glyph key, wishing more than ever that he had formal access to translations and background information. This surreptitious, fragmentary approach was a challenge and a frustration all at once. Could he transfer the key onto his own phone?

Connecting the two phones might prove risky, he decided. He didn't want to leave traces in the unknown phone, and who knew how closely the personal phones were monitored? Then again, if the phones were traceable enough through the network to put him or the unknown person helping him at risk, he was taking that risk just handling it.

He scrolled through the glyph key again, studying it carefully. His memory was good, but not photographic. If he was to get any useful information from the key, he would have to carry it with him, be that in electronic or physical format. He could probably memorize it, given time, but without usable context, he wasn't sure he trusted his memory alone. It was probably not English, which made sense, but without an adequate working knowledge of the language in which it was written, any translation he could make would be limited to a pidgin analogue.

Still, that was better than nothing. He hesitated a moment longer, then took out his own phone and took a careful series of pictures of the key, making sure to get a clear image of each section. Carrying the key with him was an inherent risk, but it was one he would have to take if he wanted to follow up on this. And if I wasn't going to do anything about it, he said to Ferros, I'd already have handed the phone in.

What journal is it talking about? Ferros asked.

Hell if I know. Jordan frowned at the message. Not sure where to start with that. I could send a reply to the unknown sender, but who knows if it would be delivered or answered? Or I could text Mark. Damn, I wish there was a way to have a look at what else might have been on this - He sat up straight as an idea suddenly occurred to him.

Is that safe? Ferros asked dubiously.

Don't know. Up to them if they want to try it. If it'd even work. No harm in asking, right? Jordan flipped his own phone open and brought up a name from the contact list.

I'm not sure this is a good idea, Ferros grumbled.

It's worth investigating, if B0nez can do it, Jordan said.

When Harrison arrived, he'd find that Jordan had claimed a computer in the least visible corner he could find, and was doing searches on various types of monsters. The research was unrelated to what had brought him here, but it was a good excuse, at any rate.

Jordan looked up with a small smile. "I've got something I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to have officially," he said, very quietly. He produced the phone from his pocket, flipped it open. "This was dropped at my door in unmarked wrappings; don't know whose it is, it's got a couple of puzzling texts and a spiral icon on it, and has only one contact." He hesitated, then added in a voice barely above a whisper, "I think it may have been Sandy's."

He opened the text with the glyph key so that Harrison could see it. "This is what I got from a try at the passcode on the spiral icon. Unknown sender, the next text mentioned a journal. Before I try fishing for further information from outside sources, I wanted to see if it was possible to get any more data out of the phone itself, like confirmation on who the phone belonged to, or traces of deleted files. I'm no hacker, though. I thought B0nez might be able to pry something out of it. I've got a cable with me to connect the phone to the computer - y'know, same way we upload the phone pictures."

He paused, gave Harrison a serious look. "This probably has a good chance to get me and anyone else involved into some deep trouble if we're caught. So if you don't want to mess with it, I'm not going to push you."

"Yeah, as in the spiral that keeps popping up in disturbing places," Jordan confirmed.

He quirked a smile at Harrison's immediate indignant reaction to the idea of getting in trouble, and produced the cable from the same pocket that had had the phone in it. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I owe you one."

"Flip it over," Jordan suggested. "I hate plugging those things in. It always does that - won't fit, flip it over, still won't fit, flip it over again, this time it fits." He eyed B0nez sideways, spoke to the weapon directly. "I bet you do that on purpose. Trolling?"