Sleight

by Tom Twitchel

  “Is she back at Kayla’s?” I asked wearily.

  “No. That’s one reason I’m here.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “She had an argument with her parents. Went to her room. When her parents went to check on her later she was gone. Probably out the window.”

  Justine lived on the second floor of a luxury home. If she’d climbed out a window it wouldn’t have been easy.

  “So you came here thinking she’d be here.” I said it as more of a statement than a question.

  “Don’t even try to act offended. When I verified that she hadn’t run back to her girlfriend’s this was the next spot on my list. This isn’t as serious as the kidnapping, but with her history we have to respond. At least that’s the initial attitude.”

  “What now?” I asked.

  He grabbed his pad and pen, dropped them into a coat pocket, stood up and shrugged into his coat. He fished a lighter out of his slacks and flicked the flint wheel a couple of times. “Nothing except this: you’re going to promise me that if she contacts you, you will call me. Immediately. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I answered a little begrudgingly. I didn’t enjoy getting bossed around in my own home. It especially grated on my nerves since I’d been scolded by Kenwoode recently.

  He let his eyes travel around the apartment. It made me nervous.

  “You on your own here a lot?” he asked.

  Seriously? Was it obvious? “Uh, my mom works a lot of long days. Her care takes place in the patients’ homes so she usually eats there too.”

  He chucked his chin. “Must be tough.”

  I walked with him to the door, where he paused and played with his lighter again. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and winked.

  “When I was growing up my folks ran a gas station. I worked there after school and summers. While everyone else was out having fun or on vacations I was working. Working for my old man was the pits. He was a drinker. Didn’t know how to stop. My mom was uninvolved. She was smart but not a real nurturing type.” He paused for a moment and nodded, raised a hand as if to put it on my shoulder but let it drop back to his side. “He was a bastard. Beat me every time I made a mistake and any time he made one too, for good measure. I used to say it made me tough. Truth is it just made me angry and...it hurt like hell.”

  He was trying to share common ground. It felt weird. I didn’t know if it was because he was so much older or whether it was due to the way our relationship had developed. I appreciated it anyway. Being a guy, and less than comfortable discussing my feelings I decided to change the subject back to what I thought was safer ground.

  “Will you call me if you find her first?” I asked.

  “Benny, you and I both know that if I find her before she makes contact with you that won’t be good news. Say a prayer that she hits you up soon. Hey, there’s one thing you’ve never told me...how did you manage to lose the cuffs and get past the cop in the hall when we had you under guard at the hospital?”

  As much as it would be a mistake I wanted to tell him. I actually had told him back then, before I’d done it, but he had thought I was being a smartass.

  “Danton, if I told you how I did it, you would totally not believe me,” I said.

  He gave me a wry smile. “That would be the ‘with my mind’ thing, right?” he said. “Try me.”

  I shrugged. “Okay, I used telekinesis to manipulate the handcuffs and then I made myself invisible, almost invisible, and snuck past everyone in the hall while the cop was freaking out trying to figure out where I was.”

  He stood there staring at me for a good three or four seconds which is a lot longer than it sounds. I experienced a moment of worry where I thought he actually believed me. “Okay smart guy, be that way.”

  He opened the door and looked down at the knob as he stepped into the hall. “And keep this thing locked.”

  I closed the door behind him and held my hand against it for a moment. I was reminded of standing there doing the same thing when Justine had paid me a visit. I was going to have to tell Kenwoode about the new developments because it would force us to completely revise our plan for Sonja. The even worse news was that since she’d trashed her hunters she was going to recruit new ones.

  People we wouldn’t know.

  TWENTY-NINE: THINGS GET REAL

  I WASTED NO time running back over to talk with Kenwoode. He and Constance were in the large kitchen area having a glass of wine. A plate of cheese and fruit sat on the table before them. Constance had changed into a sweater and slacks, while Kenwoode had exchanged his suit jacket and vest for a cardigan. Despite the appearance of a warm social setting, there was still some serious negativity between them. Constance gave me a smile.

  Setting down his glass Kenwoode fixed me with a surprised look. “Benjamin, I didn’t expect to see you again today. What is it?”

  Slightly out of breath I sucked in some air and unzipped my damp jacket, the rain had picked up and I was leaving puddles of water everywhere. He made a face at the mess I was making on the floor.

  I broke down my conversation with Danton as quickly as I could. “So I figured you should know since it’s going to change our plan. Right?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Quite.”

  “But the other thing he told me has me worried too.” I glanced at Constance and she arched an eyebrow, unwilling to guess what I was referring to.

  “He said that Justine took off last night. They think she ran away. I’m worried about her because she’s confused and doesn’t really understand what Sonja is capable of. She might be trying to come here to see me again. If Sonja is out there wasting people she’s in danger.”

  Constance took a thoughtful sip of wine and set her glass down, she radiated concern. I couldn’t read Kenwoode.

  He pushed his chair back from the table. “Even more challenging.” He pulled his phone from his pants pocket and dialed a number.

  “I need you over here at once,” he said into the phone. “We have new parameters.”

  He ended the call and looked at me. “Benjamin, please fetch Sawyer.”

  I was too focused to get irritated with his bossing me around. And I was worried about Justine, fearful of what Tank’s and Dell’s deaths meant.

  Coming to a sliding stop in front of Sawyer’s door I rapped softly, not wanting to disturb Breno or Mr. Goodturn.

  I heard a muffled invitation to come in. Pushing the door open I saw Sawyer seated on the bed, sitting cross-legged with a laptop on his thighs. A yellow cable snaked from his computer to a black box on the floor where another yellow cable sprouted from the box and disappeared under the bed.

  “Hey, Kenwoode—” I began, but he held up a hand and went back to rapidly typing on the keyboard.

  “Somethings happened. We need to—”

  “Hang on. I have to get back out before I shut down. Two minutes,” he muttered without looking away from his screen.

  His fingers flew over the key board, punctuated by grunts and profanity. There was a sudden quick intake of breath and a surprised look on his face followed by more typing. I moved around the bed so I could see what he was looking at, but when I got a clear view of the display what I saw was a flowing page of text that didn’t make any sense to me.

  A short laugh burst from his lips and he hammered at the keyboard. The scrolling lines of code stopped and he closed the window. Letting out a long sigh he folded the laptop shut and cracked his knuckles.

  Grinning up at me he chuckled. “Pretty good, but not better than me.”

  “What were you doing?” I asked as he unfolded his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed.

  “Backing out of a rabbit hole. I don’t know where she is yet but now I know exactly where to start looking and what to be prepared for when I hook up again.” He stood up and, disconnected the yellow data cable from his laptop, letting the untethered end drop to the bed.

  “What’s that for?” I asked, pointing at the
black box.

  “Encrypted hardware firewall. Just in case. Never snoop without protection I always say. When you shake hands with a dark server you’re shaking hands with a bunch of uglies.” He snickered.

  “Dark server?”

  “Yup. Dark internet. Dark pool trading, auctions, creepy stuff you don’t want to know about. Looks like the rogue witch has been tapping into a sketchy site that connects money to goons for hire. I got out before I got pinged hard which means the next time I go in I’ll be able to zero in on her address and back into pretty much everything she’s been up to. Provided she goes back to the site.”

  Baffle’s ability with a computer was the best that I knew, but I had a growing sense that Sawyer’s know-how with a keyboard eclipsed his.

  “Uh huh. Well, Kenwoode wants us in the kitchen. The two thugs that were tailing me are dead and my friend with the developing knack is missing.”

  He let out a soft whistle, stuffed his laptop into a neoprene sleeve with a strap attached to it and slung it over his shoulder.

  “I’m ready. Let’s do this,” he said.

  When we walked into the kitchen Brock had already arrived, wearing a rumpled coat and the cargo-style pants that Breno favored. He slouched in a chair that he’d pushed back from the long kitchen table, his legs splayed out in front of him.

  Giving Sawyer a disgusted sneer he cocked his head at Kenwoode. “Seriously? You brought him in on this? You know his history. You couldn’t find anybody else?”

  Fidgeting with his laptop strap, Sawyer scowled and I saw the muscles in his jaw flex. Forcing himself to relax he leaned against the large central island facing the table. I settled into a spot next to him.

  “His skills are a good fit, which is the only explanation I’m going to offer,” Kenwoode said tersely. It was Brock’s turn to look pissed. He was pretty good at it. An edgy, negative vibe buzzed through him, while Constance looked on with seeming disinterest. My sensing of her told me that her outward appearance was a mask for the nervous tension she was feeling.

  “Preston, would you mind if we began with your thoughts as to how we track down the girl? She’s at risk. Since she is one of the main reasons I’m here,” she said.

  Brock roused himself from his pout. “What? Who are we talking about?”

  Kenwoode waved off Brock with a dismissive gesture. “These changes will require rethinking our approach.” He turned to Constance. “And as to you Constance, please reserve judgement.”

  Nodding slightly, she crossed her arms over her chest and inclined her head.

  Pulling himself up out of his slouch, Brock jabbed a finger at Kenwoode. “Who’s missing? All you told me about was the rogue and the crap storm around the moron I’m pretending to be.”

  That tore it for me. “You’re doing a real good job of pretending to be a moron, but Breno isn’t by the way. Why don’t you quit being an ass and just—”

  “Benjamin!” snapped Kenwoode. “That is quite enough!”

  Sawyer’s hand covered his mouth, but I still heard his snicker. I’m sure Brock did too. For my part I gave Brock the hairy eyeball while he was content glaring at me from under his heavy brows. His barely restrained anger matched mine.

  Kenwoode let a look of disdain wash over all of us. I have to admit that despite my irritation with Brock, it was intimidating. Satisfied that we were all going to behave for a minute he went on.

  “Let’s all get on the same page, shall we? First Harald Goodturn is incapacitated and requires quiet and rest, as well as protection while he is recovering. Breno Giacomo is recovering from an anxiety attack. Typically not a significant concern, but he’s a pyrokinetic. I’ve placed a suggestion that should prevent him from inadvertently manifesting, but he bears watching. He may have caused injury to two men and almost certainly burned down a section of the waterfront. Sonja, Harald’s long lost bride, is our immediate target. She is a rogue who can rip abilities from a Natural, leaving said individual little more than a walking corpse. She has been using hunters to collect prey, syphoning off their abilities. The two hunters we knew of died this morning, which leaves us at a disadvantage. We don’t know when she will bring the fight to us and we do not know who she might employ to assist her.” He paused, glancing in my direction. “Benjamin has a friend who has recently begun manifesting, at least we assume it’s recent. Constance is here to provide guidance and medical expertise for her. Her disappearance last night doesn’t directly affect our strategy but it does create a new variable. We believe that Sonja is aware of her and that puts the young woman in harm’s way. Keeping her safe is a priority.”

  Grunting in understanding Brock sat forward in his chair. “What’s the new plan?” He looked pointedly at Mr. Kenwoode.

  Constance picked up a wedge of sliced apple and bit into it, staring at Kenwoode while she chewed. Sawyer nudged me. I could feel the excitement coming off him in waves.

  Picking up his glass of wine and gently swirling it, Kenwoode sniffed at it and took a mouthful, swallowing it slowly. “Our initial intent was to lure Sonja into a baited trap. Losing our advantage will require that we take a more direct approach.”

  Leaning back in his chair Brock grinned wickedly.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  Taking another drink Kenwoode set the glass down. “We will surveil her, and after we have enough information we will take her on her home ground.”

  A nervous knot of worry started spinning in my stomach and I heard Sawyer choke back a small noise in his throat.

  THIRTY: WAIT, WHAT NOW?

  MY THOUGHTS WERE spinning. ‘Take her on her home ground’ ? Basically kidnapping. And then do what exactly? Brock was grinning wolfishly, obviously not concerned about any such nuances. Sawyer looked ‘a little green around the gills’ as my mother used to say. Constance had picked up her wine glass and was casually studying its contents.

  “And then?” I asked.

  Eyes drifting toward the kitchen ceiling, Kenwoode ran a hand over his goatee. “We have an answer for that. We’ll neutralize her ability and render her harmless.”

  “Exactly how are we going to do that?” I asked.

  “Kid, too many questions. It’s more about the doing and why it’s necessary than the details of how we take her out,” said Brock.

  Kenwoode speared a tiny piece of cheese with a fork. “Yes. Those details don’t concern you Benjamin. But as to how we will pursue her here is what we shall do: Sawyer will determine where she is living, starting with Benjamin’s theory that she has a condominium near the water, and who she might be employing if possible. Brock will track her movements and habits. Once we have a reasonable estimate of our window of opportunity, we will acquire the target and bring her here. Once that is accomplished we can devote our resources and attention to the primary objective.”

  That brought my thoughts to a crashing halt. “Primary objective? I thought getting her off our backs was the primary objective.” I said. “What else are you talking about, Justine?”

  He shook his head. “No. That’s an ancillary issue. The prime focus, the real reason I asked each of you to come, is to track down the new threat from the Shades. The person who is working to unite the Shade community.”

  Constance’s eyes flicked up from her glass, her lips parted. It was clear that she hadn’t been aware of this element.

  Clapping his hands together and rubbing them briskly, Brock chuckled. “So let’s get this party started. Nail the witch and then get to the real work.”

  I was confused. “Sir, you mentioned that someone had started rallying the Shades, but you also said that whether Shades or Naturals, the gifted population was spread out pretty far and pretty thin. Why start here?”

  His pale blue eyes stared at me in surprise. “Why I thought I had made that clear, Benjamin. The Shade that is attempting to become the de facto leader of the Shades lives right here in Washington.”

  “Here?” I wheezed, looking over at Sawyer for support. All
he gave me was a shrug and a shake of his head.

  Standing up and wincing Kenwoode frowned. “Yes, here. Recently too. Within the last year an individual living in the greater Seattle area has been aggressively reaching out to other Shades, both locally and beyond. How that is being accomplished is one puzzle to be solved. The potential concerns it raises are two-fold: first, the obvious drawing of battle lines and second, if I have been able to discern the networking that has been going on, it is reasonable to assume that the normal community may stumble upon it as well.”

  His voice rasping, Sawyer spoke up, “And if normal folks become aware of us we’re going to get a twenty first century version of the Salem Witch Trials.”

  Rolling his eyes Brock snorted. Constance dropped her hands in her lap and stared at Kenwoode.

  He shook his head. “Unlikely. What is more likely is that one or more of the government agencies that are interested in this sort of thing will begin looking for us.”

  Oh, so nothing scary like a witch hunt.

  THIRTY-ONE: IT’S JUST DINNER

  OUR MEETING BROKE up when it got close to the dinner hour and I had no desire to break bread with the group, with the possible exception of Sawyer.

  “You want to grab a bite to eat?” I asked as we walked out of the kitchen toward the main entry of the suite.

  “Yeah, I’m down for that,” He said. “Let me drop my laptop back in my room and I’ll meet you street side.”

  By the time he joined me out on the sidewalk I was starting to get numb from the cold.

  “What took you so long?” I asked.

  Making a face he said, “Sorry, bro. Couldn’t resist jacking in. I was worried she might not go back to the site, like maybe for months, so I snuck back in and...bingo! Witch was in there contracting with a guy.” He smiled smugly.

  “And? What did you get?”

  He pretended to look at his fingernails, blew on his hand and rubbed his closed fist against his down jacket. “Only everything. Like where she lives, at least the address, and the name of the goober she hired. She changed her name too.”