Sleight

by Tom Twitchel

  Danton dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his shoe. “What about the others? The kid you said was as good as dead. Regardless, I need to get him some medical attention, for my conscience if nothing else. The girl that can fly? Other than as an accessory to or a misdemeanor assault charge, I have no reason to hold her.”

  “Detective, we will transport all of them to Harald. He’ll be able to erase their memory of these events, and any knowledge about their own supernatural differences. That not only protects us but it also protects countless innocents they might hurt if left to their own devices,” said Kenwoode. “The damaged young man I will dispose of with your permission.” Seeing Danton’s reaction to the word ‘dispose’ he added, “I’ll leave the boy near a hospital.”

  Cracking his neck, Danton scowled. “Benny, I know you better than anyone else in this sideshow. Tell me you think this is legit.”

  I shrugged. “Danton, all I can tell you is...I trust these people.” Not one hundred percent true but I reasoned that a little hedging was not dishonest. My bias against Kenwoode’s motivation didn’t really figure into Danton’s question.

  “Alright. We cart the whole lot over to Goodturn? He wipes their memories? We dump them on the street? We leave them in front of a hospital? Have you thought this through?” asked Danton, looking over at Brock, who had just finished loading Ethan and Brin into the SUV.

  Brock shut the rear gate of the SUV. “We’re improvising. There’s no hard and fast plan. But yeah, we drop them off somewhere. Different locations, so that they’re split up, random.”

  Danton looked at Kenwoode for confirmation. He nodded.

  Shaking his head, Danton pulled his keys from a pocket. “Deeper and deeper. Fine. I’ll follow you.” He got into his car, with Kenwoode folding himself into the passenger seat. There was a bizarre image for passersby. It was a good thing it was dark. I could just imagine the looks they would get if anyone noticed the giant freak riding shotgun.

  I rode in the backseat of the SUV with Justine while Brock drove. Brin, and Ethan were in the rear payload area. It didn’t look comfortable and I can’t say that it bothered me. Ethan was beyond caring, and Brin had been ready to bash my skull in when Brock had decked her.

  With Justine lying down, her head in my lap, Brock drove as quickly as he could without jostling her too much.

  “How did you find us?” I asked.

  Looking out the windshield without glancing back at me he shook his head and grunted.

  “I’ll tell you. But I don’t like talking about my aberrations. Understood?” he said

  I nodded.

  Gripping the steering wheel he blew out a breath and said, “I’ve got two. The one I used is an ability to sense trouble. It isn’t strong but I can pick up a sort of vibration if there’s violence being committed or getting ready to taking place close by. Has to do with picking up on the emotions that are associated with violence. That got us to the building you were in. We saw some girl in a costume leave. Then you all came pouring out into the alley. We lost you because you weren’t visible so we followed Sawyer and his group. They had a tail that we had to neutralize. When we figured out that you weren’t with them we doubled back. There were two more goons following you. We took them out too.”

  I remembered the noise we’d heard, and decided not to ask for details.

  “We were backtracking when you reentered the underground. We saw you before you manifested your camouflage. Followed you back to the building. Then we waited.”

  I looked down at Justine and watched until I could see her chest rise and fall. It didn’t look normal. The beginning of a headache tapped away at my skull.

  “Why did you guys wait so long to intervene?”

  Brock let out another sigh of frustration. “Since you guys left the door open to the alley we thought we had a good read on what was happening. The gunshot surprised us.”

  I nodded, “Yeah, I caused that, and then things went bad.”

  He swore. He didn’t make an effort to keep the conversation going, obviously okay with riding in silence.

  When we arrived at Mr. Goodturn’s we pulled into the garage behind the pawnshop. The heavy commercial grade rolling door was open, waiting for us. Bright fluorescent light spilled out onto the gravel that led to it.

  The term ‘garage’ really didn’t do the room justice. It was pristine: an epoxy finished floor, metal storage cabinets along two walls and room enough for half a dozen cars. A forty foot long workbench ran across the wall at the back. Tools of every possible description hung on the wall above the work surface. Each tool grouped by type with a small label above each one.

  Mr. G’s old land yacht from Detroit, Danton’s car and the massive SUV didn’t even fill half the space.

  Mr. Goodturn and Constance were waiting for us. Constance and I took Justine upstairs where Constance worked on her while I white-knuckled it. I was too worried about Justine to question what Constance’s use of her knack was costing her.

  “She’s already healed a lot of the damage. She’s lucky the bullet passed through without hitting any bone or organs. She’s lost a lot of blood, but her gift will get her stable. Now you need to leave me alone so I can concentrate.”

  I reluctantly went back down to the garage.

  When I arrived Weller was sitting on a folding chair, her arms and legs bound with duct tape. She was still blindfolded. Kenwoode and Mr. G were talking to her while Brock stood behind her. Griff and Brin were sprawled on the floor close by, blindfolded. Danton looked on with his arms folded.

  “You need to reconsider your thinking,” Weller said. “I know people in this town who can make things very difficult for you.”

  Danton looked like I felt. Beat. Mr. Goodturn nodded at me as I approached and then turned back to Weller.

  “We think you’re the one who will need to reorient, Irena. Yes, we know your name. We’re going to remove your blindfold. Any attempt to manifest your knack will be met with immediate action that won’t be pleasant for you, something I would like to avoid if possible. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t respond immediately. Then her head dipped.

  “I think I would prefer hearing you say it if you don’t mind,” said Mr. Goodturn.

  “Is that really necessary, or is it just for show?” she asked snidely. When he didn’t say anything she sighed. “Yes, I understand.”

  Walking over to her chair, his short-legged gait and stature looking toy-like, he placed a hand on her arm and nodded to Brock. Grabbing the blindfold, Brock roughly pulled it free.

  Eyes squinting in the bright fluorescent light she looked around. Then she saw Mr. G and her entire disposition changed.

  Her eyes opened wide and she tried to shrink away from his hand.

  “I see my reputation has preceded me. I promise I’ll be brief, but that really depends on how cooperative you are,” he said softly.

  She shook her head vigorously and strained against the tape holding her arms. Brock put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m not who you’re looking for. I can’t hurt you. Let me go and you’ll never have to worry about me again. I’ll leave the city,” she said. Her chin wrinkled, her lips were trembling.

  My arms broke out in gooseflesh. She was terrified and her fear was directly associated with Mr. Goodturn. Sawyer’s stories about The Mad Dwarf and her use of that name, like talking about the Boogey Man, made me wonder what Mr. Goodturn had done that could scare someone so badly. Brock shifted his feet nervously while Kenwoode focused intently on her. I snuck a glance at Danton. His mouth was tight.

  Mr. Goodturn said, “Who is your contact? Let’s start with that please.”

  “I can’t tell you that. He’ll kill me,” she said, her voice quavering.

  Closing his eyes and nodding Mr. Goodturn said, “If you won’t cooperate I will have to make this very short.”

  “No, no you don’t. Just let me go,” she pleaded.

  It was making me feel queasy
seeing her come unwound in front of Mr. Goodturn. I thought back to the conversation Kenwoode and I had shared a week ago. Mr. Goodturn’s centuries old history and the comments about his battle with Shades on the east coast chattered in the back of my mind. I couldn’t bring myself to feel any sympathy for her though. She hadn’t been worried about Justine’s health when she’d been shot and then had used her cold knack to threaten her life. She hadn’t been concerned for me either when she told Griff to shoot me.

  Mr. Goodturn gave her a rueful smile. “My dear lady, if you don’t share it with us someone else will. Perhaps one of your cohorts, perhaps the gang member you attempted to conscript into your service. You will be blamed for their indiscretions as well.”

  She was visibly shaken. “Please. I’m the only one in my pod who knows his name. He’ll know it came from me.”

  Mr. Goodturn stepped to her side quickly, touching her neck. Her shaking calmed, I could still see her breathing, but her eyes bulged in their sockets.

  Whispering to her, his eyes locked on hers the trembling stopped, and her eyes became droopy. We all watched while Mr. Goodturn continued working over her. It went on for quite a while and I started thinking about the girl upstairs that was in bad shape because of me. My head was fuzzy from the lack of sleep and the high stress we’d been under.

  Finally Weller’s head dropped to her chest and Mr. Goodturn stepped back.

  “She won’t be creating any more trouble for us,” he said.

  “Is she going to be all right?” Danton asked. “Physically I mean.”

  Mr. Goodturn bobbed his head. “Quite. She won’t remember tonight and she won’t have any memory of her knack either. All of her associations with the Shade network, those I could detect, are gone as well.”

  Danton shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  Brock placed the blindfold back over her eyes. “What about them?” he asked, chucking his chin at the two other blindfolded Shades. I noticed Griff testing his restraints.

  Mr. Goodturn frowned. “The same for both of them. As to Sonja, I’m grateful for your...handling of her Preston.”

  “I understand Harald,” said Kenwoode. “It was the least I could do for you.”

  Shoulders sagging Mr. Goodturn hung his head. With his eyes closed he said, “Thank you for that.”

  “It doesn’t even come close to repaying what I owe you. What we all owe you,” Kenwoode said hoarsely.

  A year ago I had struggled with the moral implications of doing away with Sonja. Their matter of fact discussion of her passing was surreal. I’d lived in fear of her for years. In the past, not knowing the full extent of Sonja’s mental state and the threat she represented I would have felt conflicted about their playing God. Having seen firsthand what she had done to Ethan, and the fact that her hunger could still rule her even when her mind was gone I couldn’t regret her death. She’d been a monster even if she hadn’t started her life that way. But my lack of remorse bothered me. I felt another piece of my moral code getting chipped away.

  Mr. Goodturn glanced at me, a small frown the only thing that communicated his grief. I figured he’d had decades to come to terms with the inevitability of where Sonja’s appetites had led her.

  “Very well, let’s proceed,” Mr. Goodturn said.

  Brock yanked the blindfold off Griff’s head.

  “I ain’t tellin’ ya nothin’!” Griff spat.

  Yeah, I thought, that attitude is going to cost you.

  SIXTY-TWO: GIFT-WRAPPED

  AFTER WE’D WATCHED Mr. G do his thing with Griff and Brin, I looked at my phone. Four in the morning. All of the Shade crew we had captured had been mind-scrubbed and Mr. Goodturn was looking pretty weary. I worried that witnessing the systematic altering of their minds was desensitizing me. I’d stood by as several people were having their minds manipulated, ‘for the better’.

  Was it really?

  I thought so, but what did that say about me?

  We loaded them into the SUV, unconscious, blindfolded, bound and piled like sacks of potatoes. Then Kenwood drove off to make the weirdest Christmas season deliveries ever.

  We thought reuniting Sawyer with his sister was fair payment for the risks he’d taken. I texted him to let him know we had her. She was out cold from Mr. G’s work on her and Brock carried her upstairs.

  Danton had offered to help drop off the Ethan, Griff and Weller, but Kenwoode had refused. He’d reasoned that it wasn’t prudent to risk jeopardizing Danton’s position on the SPD any more than it had been already. Danton hadn’t argued, so it was just the three of us, stacking chairs and throwing away duct tape. I leaned against the workshop counter, tired, thirsty and hungry. Danton pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, changed his mind and put it away.

  “The Winters girl was shot,” he said. “Bullet wounds have to be reported.”

  “We have medical expertise available,” said Mr. Goodturn.

  “Well at a minimum you took several of them out of circulation,” Danton said.

  “Yes, possibly. They may rediscover their knacks, but the inhibitors I installed make that unlikely,” said Mr. Goodturn.

  Danton cocked an eyebrow. “How often have you done this?”

  It was Mr. G’s turn to raise a brow. “Pardon?”

  Rubbing his neck Danton pointed at the stacked folding chairs. “This. Mind-wiping. Taking shady supernatural crooks out of commission.”

  Mr. Goodturn ran is hands under his suspenders and his mouth drew into a tight line. “More often than I would care to admit, less than I would have liked. Do you truly wish to know the details? How do you law enforcement folks refer to the connectivity of events and personal knowledge?”

  Danton made a half smile. “Plausible deniability?”

  “Ah, yes that’s it.”

  “All right then. But will you keep me posted?” asked Danton, digging for his cigarettes again.

  Mr. Goodturn nodded. “Yes, indeed. Thank you Detective. For your help, your discretion and your timely arrival. It would have been very unfortunate if Irena Weller had escaped.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s still the banger to think about though.”

  “Ah, yes, but I believe we have some unique leverage there that should prevent our being compromised,” said Mr. G.

  “Okay, I’m on my way then. Benny, I’ll see you soon,” said Danton.

  I extended my fist and we bumped knuckles. He gave me a wry grin and got into his car.

  After he’d left I was itching to get upstairs to check on Justine, but Mr. Goodturn made a tired gesture toward one of the chairs.

  Reluctantly I sat down. “Yes, sir?”

  Preferring to stand Mr. G adjusted his glasses and stared at the ceiling. “Benjamin, we have so many things left to discuss. I miss our frequent chats. But tonight’s events, Preston’s presence, Constance, your mother, these are things that all fit together in a complicated fabric. I’m reluctant to draw you in further but I’ve regretted your discovering details on your own. What shall we do about that?”

  Seemed like a gigantic open ended question. How was I supposed to respond to that? Like anyone I wanted to know everything, but I’d learned that some of that knowledge wasn’t pleasant, and some of it was painful.

  “There are only two things I’m worried about right now: Justine being okay is number one. The second is Oso. He took off and although he doesn’t know names, he saw Kenwoode in full gray-giant-mode and he saw Brock too. What’s the leverage you were talking about?”

  He nervously snapped a suspender strap against his chest. “You are my boy. You are.”

  “Me?” I asked.

  “Yes. This Oso has a sentimental disposition toward you. It will influence how he decides to communicate what happened, if he chooses to at all. In addition he is the only member of Madame Weller’s pod with his memories unimpaired. If their network of cells works the way other spy networks operate no one else will even know Oso exists, at least not his speci
fic identity.”

  I thought that over for a moment. “Should we try to get in touch with him?”

  “We may not need to. He may reach out to you.”

  “So I just wait for him to call me?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “You’re confident that the other Shades won’t reconnect somehow?”

  “They wouldn’t know where to begin. We have a failsafe though.”

  “There’s the big guy, Isaac, he’s still out there. What about him?” I asked.

  “There isn’t much we can do at the moment, but he is neutralized for the moment.”

  Griff’s comment that most of them had known each other bothered me. There was something that we were missing. “The bald guy said that most of the group already knew each other. Isaac might be able to connect with other people we haven’t met.”

  Grimacing, Mr. Goodturn bobbed his head. “Yes, that would be a problem, but again, we can’t address it at the moment. We’ll have to keep that in mind as we move forward. Irena is the key. She is the leader for her pod. She is the only person we apprehended that is connected to anyone else in the larger network. When she reengages with her personal and professional life her Shade contact will eventually reach out to her. I imbedded one additional suggestion in her mind. When she is contacted, she will call us.”

  “And we’ll do what exactly?” I asked.

  “Preston and Brock will be watching over her. They will apprehend her contact. With any luck it will be a key person in the Shade network or lead us to one.”

  “And?”

  “To quote a famous US general, to kill an organization you must cut off the head.”

  SIXTY-THREE: SIMPLICITY/DUPLICITY

  I FOLLOWED MR. Goodturn upstairs. He had decided that having Brin wake up in a foreign environment would create problems, so he gave her something to keep her under until Sawyer showed up. I wondered why he hadn’t responded to my text. My feelings about him were conflicted. His change of heart meant something and I understood how having someone he cared about being in danger could have affected him.