by Simon Hawke
Loomis sighed. "All right. I'll try to get some rest. But I don't know that I'll be able to. But we've still got a problem, you know." He shook his head. "After what you did tonight . . . You assaulted two police officers, for God's sake, and you stole a cruiser. And every cop on the shift knows I'm meeting you here."
"Tell them I didn't show up," said Modred. "You found the cruiser, but I was gone."
Loomis sighed. "That part's no problem," he said, "but you realize it'll leave me with no choice but to put out an A.P.B. on you. I'll have to say you're armed and dangerous. There's just no way around it."
"Do what you have to do," said Modred.
"After tonight, you'll have every cop in the city out gunning for you," said Loomis.
"Then I'll have to do my best to stay out of their way."
"What if you can't? I don't want any of my people hurt. Because if you do, I'll be coming after you, you know that. I'll have no choice."
"I understand."
Loomis looked up at the sky again. The sun was starting to rise. "Two lousy days," he said. "After what happened tonight, the media will be playing this thing up big. In a few hours, I'll have the mayor, the commissioner, the chief, and the entire city council on my ass. As if I didn't have enough troubles."
"If I may make a suggestion," Modred said, "why not redirect them all toward the Bureau field agent? Technically, the case is out of your jurisdiction, anyway."
"That's right," said Paul. "The only reason you've been handling it is because I didn't feel qualified. The Bureau agent will insist on taking charge. Let the Bureau handle the flak."
"Well, I've never been one to pass the buck," said Loomis , "but in this case, I think I'll make an exception. I keep thinking that if I'd stayed in Chicago, I could've retired by now and this whole thing could have been someone else's headache." He smiled wryly. "But on the other hand, how many cops ever get to work on a case involving an immortal serial killer? Hell, I could retire, write a book, sell the mini-series, and become rich."
"Joe . . ." said Paul.
"Just kidding," Loomis said. He glanced at Modred. "Were you serious about being able to make me forget all this?"
"Absolutely," Modred said. "It's a relatively uncomplicated spell and quite safe, I assure you. You wouldn't even know that anything was different. It would be like a form of highly selective amnesia."
Loomis took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And I suppose there'd be nothing I could do to stop you."
"No."
"Well . . . we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Loomis. "In the meantime, we've got us a killer to catch."
It was almost six in the morning by the time they returned to Paul's house. Billy was alone, waiting for them, drinking black coffee, and chain-smoking cigarettes. "Where the bloody 'ell were you?" he demanded. "What 'appened?"
Modred had shapechanged back to Wyrdrune on their way home, just to play it safe. By now, in keeping with the cover story of Modred's having failed to make the meeting, Loomis would have had to put out an All Points Bulletin on him. Fortunately, Paul hadn't told Loomis about Modred's ability to shapechange. Telling him about the Dark Ones, and that "Inspector Michael Cornwall" was actually a two-thousand-year-old adept, the son of a half-breed enchantress and a legendary British king, seemed more than enough to strain credulity. He had decided not to bother trying to explain that Modred was actually a warlock known as Wyrdrune, whose real name was Melvin Karpinsky, an erratic young man from Queens who had been kicked out of thaumaturgy school and had the ability to physically manifest a spirit entity residing in an enchanted runestone. Things were complicated enough as they were.
"I had a little trouble," Wyrdrune explained, somewhat sheepishly.
"A little trouble?" Billy's voice deepened by several octaves and his accent changed as Merlin spoke through him. "Not three seconds after I arrived here, a blasted unicorn appeared in the center of the living room! Do you have any idea what it was like, trying to get him through the door?"
"I'm sorry," Wyrdrune said. "I don't know what went wrong. I guess I screwed up."
"So what else is new?" said Merlin sourly. "Did you at least manage to escape from the police? Or was Paul forced to bail you out?"
Briefly, Wyrdrune told him what had happened.
"Well, perhaps it's for the best," Merlin said when Wyrdrune finished. "Telling Loomis might have been risky, but at least he now knows what he's up against and it might prevent him from doing anything foolish. I think your instincts were correct, Paul. Joe Loomis strikes me as a man who can be trusted. With any luck, he'll be able to keep this field agent from getting in our way."
"Where's Kira?" Wyrdrune asked.
"Asleep upstairs, I should imagine," Merlin replied. "I saw no point in disturbing her. We could all use some rest. Though how I'll get to sleep now with all this coffee Billy dumped into us is beyond me."
"Has anyone seen Gomez?" Paul asked.
"No, I haven't seen him," said Merlin. "And come to think of it, I haven't seen Broom, either."
"Broom's probably in the closet," Wyrdrune said, going toward the kitchen. "I'm just going to tell it not to bother getting breakfast, since we're all probably going to be asleep."
"I'm worried about Gomez," Paul said. "I know he's only trying to help, but I'd hate to see anything happen to the old warrior. I've grown quite attached to him."
Merlin smiled. "I know what you mean. There are times when I still miss Archimedes."
"Your computer?" Paul said, frowning.
"No, my owl," said Merlin. "The original Archimedes. My computer is named after him. I never did find out what became of him after I fell under Morganna's spell. There were times when I was sorely vexed with that cantankerous bird. My robes were always covered with droppings and I must have threatened to have him stuffed a thousand times, but I do miss him."
"Broom's not here," said Wyrdrune, coming back in from the kitchen. He was frowning.
"Maybe it's upstairs," said Paul.
"Broom isn't very good at climbing stairs," Wyrdrune replied. "Broom usually stays in a kitchen or hall closet."
"Maybe Kira took it up to change the sheets or something," Merlin offered.
Wyrdrune went upstairs.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm all done in," said Paul. "If I don't get some sleep, I'll pass out on my feet."
"We've done about all that can be done for now," said Merlin. "You might as well get some rest, Paul. You look exhausted."
"Kira's not here!" said Wyrdrune from the top of the stairs.
"That's strange," said Merlin, frowning. "Did she say she was going anywhere?"
"No," said Wyrdrune, coming down. "She's supposed to be here, getting some sleep."
"Did you check all the rooms upstairs?" asked Paul.
"Yes. She isn't here." He looked worried. "I don't like this."
"Do you think she might have left a note?" asked Paul.
"I don't know, I'll check," said Wyrdrune. He went to the coffee table and started rummaging among the maps and papers spread out there.
"I'll check the kitchen," Paul said.
"Where would she have gone?" asked Merlin.
"I don't know," said Wyrdrune.
"Perhaps she took Broom to the all-night supermarket to get some groceries," said Merlin.
"That must be it," said Wyrdrune, looking relieved. "She probably got up early and went out to get some stuff for breakfast—"
"No," said Paul, coming in from the kitchen. "She didn't." He was holding a piece of paper in his hand. "She left a note on the refrigerator. 'Gone with Broom to get file on Megan Leary from Archimedes. Be back soon. Kira,'" he read. "I don't understand. Where would she find a computer and modem in the middle of the night?"
"Your office," Wyrdrune said.
"But my office is locked," said Paul. "And so is the building."
Wyrdrune grinned. "That wouldn't stop Kira. She was one of the best cat burglars in the business. She d
idn't want to involve you in pirating confidential Bureau files, so she went to break into your office and do it herself."
"Good Lord!" said Paul. "The lock to my office is spellwarded! "
"What?" said Wyrdrune, the grin instantly slipping from his face. "How?"
"It's standard Bureau field office procedure," Paul said. "Straight from the manual. The spell itself is not dangerous, but if the lock is forced or picked, the spell sends an alarm signal on the standard Bureau pager frequency."
"Oh," said Wyrdrune with visible relief. "Is that all? Jesus, for a second there, you had me scared."
"You don't understand," said Paul, crossing the room quickly and going to the small table in the foyer. "I left my pager here tonight. I didn't see any reason for—" He opened the small drawer in the table. "Oh, hell," he said.
"What is it?" Merlin asked.
"The pager isn't signaling," he said.
"So?" said Wyrdrune.
"Don't you see?" said Paul, an expression of great concern on his face. "If she broke into my office, she had to have set off the alarm. And she wouldn't know she'd done it. Right now, this pager should be beeping intermittently in a special signal that denotes a break-in. The fact that it isn't can only mean one thing. The alarm received an answering signal, which means that someone has responded to it." He held up the pager. "Every Bureau agent carried one of these!"
"Christ," Wyrdrune said. "The field agent!"
Kira sat at a table in an interrogation room at police headquarters. Broom stood behind her chair, wringing its hands.
"I'm only going to ask you one more time," said Megan Leary, shaking the file printout in her face. "How did you get this?"
Kira said nothing.
"All right," said Agent Leary. "I'm giving you one last chance. If you won't tell me your name, and if you won't tell me why you wanted my file, who you're working for, and how you managed to crack the Bureau data banks, I'll be forced to use a spell of compulsion on you. And I won't be very gentle about it, either."
"I want to see a lawyer," Kira said.
"After you answer my questions."
"I want to see a lawyer now," said Kira. "I want my phone call. I haven't been booked. I haven't been charged. This is a bad bust, Leary, and it won't stand up. I haven't even been advised of my rights."
"Let me tell you something, honey," Megan Leary said, leaning forward toward her. "I don't give a shit about your rights. I didn't come here all the way from New York to make a lousy B and E bust. I'm after a cult of murdering necromancers and for all I know, you're involved in it up to your pretty little ears. But maybe you can convince me that you're only hired help, in which case, if you're very, very lucky, you just might get off easy. Let me tell you what's about to happen here. If you don't start cooperating, I'm going to use a spell of compulsion that'll squeeze your brain out like a sponge. And then, after you've told me what I want to know, I'll use a spell of forgetfulness on you and you won't remember a damned thing about what went on in here. Then I'll take you out and book you and you can call your lousy lawyer or ask for a P.D. That's always assuming that your brain is still working right after I'm through with you. And while we're waiting for the lawyer to show up so your rights can be protected, I'm going to ask the nice sergeant out there to lock you up with the nastiest cellmates he can find. Now do you get the picture?"
"Tell me something," Kira said. "Were you always such a cunt or did you work at it?"
"Okay, honey, you asked for it."
"Oy vey!" Broom said, throwing its hands up to where its head would have been if it had a head.
"Shut up, Stick," Kira snapped.
"You," Megan said, pointing at Broom. "Get back in that corner and stay there until I tell you to move. And if I hear so much as one peep out of you, I'll snap you over my knee!"
Broom hastily shuffled back into the corner and stood there, wringing its hands.
"Look at me," said Megan.
Kira stared up at her defiantly. "Go ahead, bitch. Do your worst."
Megan Leary's eyes began to glow with a blue light as she started concentrating, her lips moving soundlessly as she mouthed the words of the compulsion spell. Kira simply smiled at her. After a moment or two Megan's eyes narrowed and a frown creased her forehead. She redoubled her efforts.
"What's the matter," Kira said, "losing your touch?"
The glow faded from Megan's eyes. "It's impossible," she said. "I'm a ninth-level sorceress! You can't be stronger than me!"
"Ninth level, huh?" said Kira. "According to your file, you're only level eight."
"I passed my ninth levels last month, damn them," she said. "They still haven't updated . . ." She caught herself. Kira grinned.
"You can't possibly be more advanced than I am," Megan said. "You're too young. Unless . . ."
"Before you go jumping to any conclusions," Kira said, "the answer is no, I haven't rejuvenated myself with someone else's life energy. I'm not a necromancer. If I was, I wouldn't be here and you'd be dead."
"Who the hell are you?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out," Kira said, then she smiled and added, "honey."
The door to the interrogation room suddenly flew open with a bang and Loomis came in, looking haggard and angry. "What the hell is going on in here?"
"Who are you?" asked Megan.
"Lt. Joe Loomis," he replied. Then he noticed Kira. "Kira? What are you doing here?"
"You know this person?" Megan asked.
"I asked you a question, lady."
"Field Agent Leary, B.O.T.," said Megan, flashing her ID at him.
"I know who you are," snapped Loomis. "My sergeant out there just told me you came in with a B and E collar and started throwing your weight around. You mind telling me what you're doing, questioning a prisoner alone in an interrogation room, a prisoner that hasn't even been booked?"
"She didn't read me my rights, either," Kira said. "And when I asked for a lawyer, she tried to use a spell of compulsion on me."
"Are you crazy?" Loomis said, staring at Leary with disbelief.
"She broke into the local Bureau office," Megan said, "and when I came in, she was accessing classified Bureau files. I caught her with this."
She handed the printout of her file to Loomis.
"This is just a personnel file," Loomis said.
"It's my confidential Bureau jacket!" said Megan. "And I intend to find out how the hell she got it! How did she even know I was coming here?"
"She's Paul Ramirez's girlfriend," Loomis said.
"What?"
"Paul asked me to stop by the office and pick up the file," Kira said. "He put in a request for it, because he knew she was due to arrive, but he had to leave to go with you before it came in over the modem. I took Broom along with me for company 'cause I was a bit nervous about being out alone this time of night."
"You broke in!" said Megan.
"I forgot to take the key," said Kira, "so I slipped the lock. It was no big deal. All the locks at the university are easy. They're just like the ones in the dorms. I locked myself out of my room once when I was a freshman and one of the other girls showed me how to slip it. I didn't think I was committing a federal offense. I mean, Paul knew I was going in there. Only then she shows up, pointing a gun in my face, and drags me down here, gives me the third degree, and threatens to squeeze my brain out like a sponge. That's a direct quote."
"I think, Agent Leary, you owe this young lady an apology," said Loomis. "You'll be lucky if she decides not to press charges."
"An apology? Press charges? You can't be serious!" said Megan. "Did you take a good look at that printout? It's got all the details of our undercover operation on there! The names of all the agents, their covers, and where they're staying!"
"Hey, I don't know anything about that," Kira said. "I just came down to the office to get that stuff for Paul. He said it was important."
"It's classified!" said Megan.
"Apparently, someone
at the Bureau thought the local field office ought to know about it," Loomis said. "Doesn't seem unusual to me, unless the Bureau makes a practice of conducting undercover operations without letting their own people know about it. Frankly, I'm not too happy I wasn't told about this, Ms. Leary. I thought the Bureau had a policy of cooperating with the local authorities. Either way, it looks like you've made a serious mistake. This young woman has an excellent case for false arrest and harassment, not to mention brutality."
"Brutality?"
"If you threatened her with a spell of compulsion, I'd say that definitely constitutes brutality," said Loomis.
"Brutality, my ass!" said Megan. "She resisted! And I want to know how the hell she was able to successfully resist a spell from a ninth-level sorceress!"
"Let me get this straight," said Loomis. "Are you actually admitting that you violated this young woman's constitutional rights and used magic in an attempt to force a confession? Is that what you're telling me? I sincerely hope it's not, Ms. Leary, because if it is, I'll have no choice but to place you under arrest."
"Arrest?"
"You heard me."
"You have to be kidding!"
"Kira, if Agent Leary violated your rights and you want to file a complaint, that's up to you. Maybe she overreacted, but you know what's been going on. It's a tough case and everybody's been under a strain."
"Well, I can see how she got the wrong idea," Kira said. "I guess there was no real harm done."
"Thanks," said Loomis. "I'm sorry about this, Kira. Please tell Paul that it was a misunderstanding. You can go."
Megan stared at them, speechless with disbelief. Kira got up from the table. "Thanks, Joe," she said. "Come on, Broom, we're going home." She smiled sweetly at Megan. "Bye . . . honey."
"I'll walk you out and have someone give you a ride home," Loomis said. He turned to Megan. "And I'll be back to talk to you in a minute."