The Nyte Patrol
Page 5
My voice grew into an uncontrollable shriek as Adric flipped open the magazine, pulled his arm back, and plunged it into the pages. Not through them. Into them. The magazine stretched and expanded as radiant blue light shot out from the glossy pages. Adric plunged his second arm after the first. He leaned over, grunted, and straightened, pulling a vintage iMac with a purple plastic case from the glowing portal. The magazine fell to the floor, shrinking back to normal size, and the eerie blue glow winked out of existence as Adric set the computer on his desk.
“There we go,” he said. “Good enough. I doubt anyone will question the color, even at an orange obsessed college like this one.”
My tongue and lips worked when I moved them, but the proper words refused to come out. “I… but… I mean… what?”
“Sorry, Lexie, but this one’s on you,” said Larry. “I mentioned he was a bibliomancer more than once. Although on second thought, you did ask what they do. Maybe that’s my fault. I guess I thought everyone knew. You see, a bibliomancer…”
I think he started to explain it to me, but I barely heard him. My mind was running a mile a minute. Adric had literally pulled an eighteen-year old computer from the faded pages of a trade magazine. With magic! Which implied everything crazy ass Larry had told me was actually true. The wizard thing, Bill being a severed zombie head, Darragh the leprechaun, Larry’s ten-second distillation process. All of it. And while part of me wanted to run into the hallway screaming, to call 911, call the FBI, call somebody—an even larger part of me was… intrigued.
I mean, I’d always been technologically inclined. It was why I’d chosen engineering as a major. Even as a young girl, I’d enjoyed running my own experiments, like what happens when you squish an ant with a rock, or how hot is fire? The burn scar I’d acquired from that one still reminded me of the answer, in case I ever forgot. So if all my senses indicated Adric had created something out of nothing, and I was sure I wasn’t on any mind altering substances—I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything that Larry gave me after all—then maybe magic was a logical explanation for it. But how did it work? What fueled it? How did you access it? What were its limitations?
My curiosity didn’t stop my heart from racing or my fingertips from tingling, however. “Okay. Alright. Sure. Fine. Magic.”
I don’t think anyone paid me any mind. Adric had plugged the iMac back in, booted it, and the conversation had shifted back to the mysterious Latin book du jour.
“Let’s see, where were we?” said Adric. “Your book wasn’t in the library catalog, but I do remember hearing about it. Maybe if we do an internal document search. Give me a sec…” He tapped away at the keyboard. A string of search results popped up. He clicked them one at a time and scanned the results. “No. Wait. Here we go. I knew I’d heard of it. The Librum de Virtute was brought here ten years ago as part of a collection on loan from the Biblioteca Nacional de España. That’s the Spanish national library for you non-bilingual folks.”
“So it’s here?” said Larry. “Or was it returned to Spain?”
Dawn crossed her fingers. “Trip to Spain. Trip to Spain. Please say trip to Spain.”
“Just a moment,” said Adric. “Uh… Nope. I think it’s still here. Apparently, the University tried to send it back and the Spaniards didn’t want it.”
“Why?” asked Larry.
“Beats me.”
“So where is it?”
“Well, the press release doesn’t say, but it looks like the book was initially stored in… the Harry Ransom Center.”
The tingling in my extremities had started to fade. “The university archive down the street? Dang. That makes things easy.”
Adric turned to me, his face frozen. “You don’t get it. The Harry Ransom Center’s underground archive is an impenetrable fortress. Dozens have tried to break into the subterranean vault over the decades. All have failed. Some have even lost their lives in the attempt.”
I snorted. “You’re kidding, right? Like you were with the Romans and the black plague and the Spanish galleon?”
Adric swept his glasses off. “I wish I were. I knew a man who tried to break in once. He was a good friend…” A tear formed in his eye. He wiped it away before returning his glasses to place. “The point is, you should turn back now. If the Librum de Virtute is housed at the HRC, for all intents and purposes, it’s lost to the world. I’m terribly sorry, but your journey ends here.”
7
We stood in the bushes outside the Harry Ransom Center, another of the university’s artfully designed oversized concrete blocks. Well—I stood. Larry, Dawn, and Tank crouched, the latter comically so because the bushes couldn’t come close to hiding him. They peered through the first floor windows, trying to catch glimpses of activity within, which were few and far between due to the late hour. The museum had frosted an exhibit onto the exterior windows—something to do with women’s suffrage, at the moment—but as engaging as it was, it couldn’t hold my attention forever.
“This is ridiculous,” I said. “It’s open to the public. We can walk in.”
“And be caught off guard for what we find within?” said Larry. “Not on my watch. Preparation is the key to success. If this place is the fortress Adric says it is, we’ll need every advantage we can get.”
“It’s not a fortress,” I said. “It’s a museum. Seriously. I’ve been inside. They have rotating exhibits with books and artwork and film memorabilia and an original printing of the Gutenberg bible that they never take down because it’s the most interesting thing in the place. But that’s it. A high-security garrison it isn’t.”
Dawn glanced my way. “Do you have any experience breaking into highly secure facilities?”
“Of course not. I’m a college student. A law-abiding college student.”
“Then maybe your input isn’t as valuable as you think.” Dawn shook her head at Tank, who gave a sympathetic nod in return.
Her criticism came across as harsh, but fact of the matter was, I didn’t know the first thing about robbing a museum. What I did know was that I shouldn’t be a part of it. I needed a way to keep Larry from doing anything stupid that would incriminate me.
I checked my phone. “It’s ten till. This place closes at the top of the hour. If we’re going in, now’s the time.”
Larry huffed. “Fine, but we’re performing reconnaissance, nothing else. I think I saw a guard or two. Speaking of which, it’ll probably be best to leave the firepower outside.”
Tank looked like Larry had insulted his mother. “No weapons?” That brought his vocabulary up to a grand total of two words.
“None. That goes for you, too, Dawn.”
She snorted and shook her head. “Don’t blame me if this goes sideways. Tank?” She gestured at the big guy’s duffel bag, half hidden in the bushes.
He unzipped it as Dawn removed her swords. My eyes might’ve bugged out. Despite the fact that I’d started to believe Larry about the magic and the supernatural stuff, I hadn’t really trusted Tank when he’d mentioned what was in the bag, but damn it if he hadn’t been telling the truth, too. The thing was jam packed with firearms. I wouldn’t have called myself a gun nut, but I played enough Call of Duty to have some idea of what was before me. On first glance I spotted a Browning Hi-Power Practical .40, a Glock 29 10mm Auto, a Mark XIX Desert Eagle .50 Action Express, a SIG Sauer 516 Tactical Patrol Rifle, a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun, and a Mossberg 500 pump action shotgun. Dawn lay her swords in the duffel bag atop the guns, Larry tossed his flintlock in beside them, and Tank zipped the mess back up before shoving the bag deeper into the bushes.
Larry straightened, dusting a couple holly leaves off his shoulder. “Alright. Let’s check the place out.”
We walked into the museum. Larry and Dawn promptly shuffled off in opposite directions, leaving me and Tank at the front near a Frida Kahlo painting.
I nodded toward the big guy. “So, ah… what are we supposed to do?”
He shrugged.
He shook his head.
“You know, seeing as we’re alone, you want to dish the dirt on Larry? What’s with his magic? Like, is it for real? No joke? How does it work?”
Tank just stared at me.
“Not much of a talker are you?”
“Not until I get to know you.” He frowned and showed me the broad side of his back. I wasn’t sure how he intended to get to know me without speaking to me, but I took the gesture as an invitation to wander. Barely had I read half the inscription on another piece of Mexican folk art when someone came on the PA. “The center will be closing in five minutes. Five minutes until closing.”
Rather than feel irked that Larry hadn’t followed my advice sooner, I felt relieved, mostly because I figured we couldn’t get into enough trouble to be arrested in five short minutes. As I waited, I checked my phone to make sure I didn’t have any messages from the girls on the team and tried to look like I was enjoying the art.
“Hey.”
I jumped at the sound of Larry’s voice in my ear. I spun to find him at my elbow. “Jesus, dude. Don’t creep up on me like that.”
“I wasn’t creeping. You weren’t paying attention. Anyway, I gave the place a once over, and on first impression, Adric is right. Security looks tight. Electronic locks on the doors. Security cameras everywhere. I think I might’ve even seen a pressure sensor under one of the exhibits. And unfortunately, I think the guards are onto me.” He looked over his shoulder at a guy in a suit that almost certainly worked here. He wasn’t looking in our direction.
Tank leveled a frown his way. “Want me to eliminate him?”
“What?” Larry sputtered. “We can’t kill him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Not kill. I’d only torture him a little. For information on the underground lair.”
I squinted at him. “I’m not sure if I should be more shocked that you’re suggesting we torture an innocent man who’s standing right over there or that you spoke several whole sentences in a row.”
“Not we should torture. Me.” Tank tapped his chest.
Larry patted the big guy on the shoulder. “Kidding. He’s kidding. He’s a very gentle soul once you get to know him. But seriously, no torture, okay? We’ll get in, but we’ll do it the Nyte Patrol way, with magic and wits and when there are fewer security guards around.”
Dawn’s voice sounded behind me, close to my neck. “Yeah. Later at night, when the place is quiet.”
I spun and stared at her. “How do you guys keep doing that? Sneaking up on me, I mean. Well, come to think of it, I sort of expected it out of you, but not Larry.”
Larry smiled. “Dawn may have natural ability on her side, but I cheat with magic. Oh. Hold on a second.”
Something buzzed from within Larry’s duster. With my luck, I suspected it would be a swarm of ensorcelled bees, but what Larry pulled from his pocket was something much more mundane. In fact, it looked like a busted flip phone that had been patched together with twine and duct tape. It vibrated in Larry’s hand.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“This,” said Larry with a flourish, “is an ingenious device of my own creation. It’s a magical two way sonic portal which lets me communicate with an individual at long distance, at any time, no matter where they might be.”
“So… it’s a phone.”
Larry snorted. “Of course it’s not a phone. I told you, I can’t use electronics. You saw for yourself in Adric’s closet. This device is one hundred percent magical in nature.”
“So it’s a magic phone.”
“Ah… no. It’s a magical auditory portal device. It only works with the paired portal which happens to be owned by my police buddy, Frank Connors.”
“So it’s a crappy, nearly useless magical phone.”
“IT’S NOT A PHONE!” Larry flipped it open and held it to his ear, huffing as he collected himself. “Hey, Frank. Sorry about the wait. I’ve got some new help that’s slow on the draw. How are you doing?”
A tinny voice shot out of the magical portal device, which unlike a phone, apparently didn’t have a volume button. “Larry! What took you so long? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past half-hour.”
“Sorry,” said Larry. “The call didn’t go through. Spotty magical coverage, I guess.”
Only through an epic exertion of self control did I manage not so slap my own forehead.
“What’s the problem?” Larry continued.
“Do you know someone by the name of Barry Mealer?” said the tinny voice.
Larry responded slowly. “Yes…”
“He called me recently,” said Frank. “Told me this story about—”
“A Mexican witch and a drug cartel and fae drugs. Yeah, I know. He told me, too.”
“And you haven’t done anything about it?” said Frank. “Why the hell not?”
“Frank, I hate to break this to you, but we’re not employed by the city. We’re a for profit business, remember? As a matter of fact, we’re currently working a job for a patron who’s paid very well in past missions.”
I spotted the security guard approaching us, which gave me confidence in my ability to keep regular people from creeping up on me. “Excuse me? Miss? The museum is closing. You and your friends are going to have to leave.”
I was about to tell him they weren’t my friends, but that would’ve created more problems than it would’ve solved.
“Right. Sorry.” I plucked at Larry’s sleeve and nodded toward the front.
He followed Dawn, Tank, and me, talking animatedly into his not-a-phone. “Alright, Frank. I’ll look into it. But only because I need a chance to ponder the next steps on our current case. Don’t think this’ll become a regular thing. And I’m not going to make any citizen arrests, mind you. I’ll try to locate the guy and talk to him, that’s it. Got it?”
I didn’t hear Connors’ response, but Larry snapped the portal device shut and stuffed it in his pocket as we exited the building.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Frank can be a real ball-buster. Not like Dawn, who’s a literal ball buster, but still.”
Dawn looked over her shoulder and gave us a wicked smile. “I only employ the art of pagkasira ng nuwes as a last resort—or when I’m trying to force the man in my bed to get up and leave already.”
“Pag-what?” I said. “Sorry, I don’t speak Filipino.”
“The ancient, sacred art of testicular destruction,” said Larry. “It’s not fun, trust me.”
“Testicular destruction? Wait, are you saying you and Dawn…?”
“I told you she’s a nympho,” said Larry. “She’ll sleep with anyone.”
“But in Larry’s case, only once,” said Dawn. “He had a hard time accepting that.”
“I’m sorry I asked,” I said. “Oh wait. I didn’t. I asked about Frank Connors.”
“Right. Frank,” said Larry. “He wants us to track down the guy Barry told him was distributing fae crank. Given that I’m not sure how to crack the Harry Ransom Center and it’s always useful to have the cops in your pocket, I figure we should give it a shot. Especially since Frank already has a bead on the guy. Ever heard of Saint Marque’s?”
“Is that a church?”
“Only to those who pray to an empty bottle. Come on. Let’s get back to that truck of yours and I’ll point you in the right direction.”
8
Despite his bloviating, Larry didn’t actually know where St. Marque’s was, so I punched it into my phone’s GPS and followed the instructions, which the phone read to me in an Australian accent that I happened to think was much sexier than the boring standard American one. I took Dean Keaton Street across I-35 to Austin’s east side, which had a reputation for sketchiness that to me seemed overblown. Perhaps once upon a time the neighborhoods had suffered from gang violence and drug use, but like ev
ery other area of Austin’s rapidly expanding core, gentrification had forced out the dope pushers and esés and largely replaced them with young working class couples.
You wouldn’t know it by looking at St. Marque’s though. The place was a dump. Made of painted cinderblocks and with thick bars over the doors and windows, it looked more like a pawn shop than a bar, though the flashing neon sign advertising cold beers and tequila tried to make the distinction as clear as possible. There were a couple decked out Harleys parked in front, and the grungy sound of punk-rock drifted over from an open air patio in back. As I pulled into a spot across the street, I noticed the fencing had been covered with graffiti of the intentional kind, displaying the bar’s name in an elaborate script, with lots of skulls and daggers and other manly things thrown in for good measure.
Larry spoke as I killed the engine. “Alright. Tank and I will check around the back. Lexie, you and Dawn scout the bar itself. The guy we’re looking for goes by the name Melondrious Funk. I don’t know any more than that, so don’t ask. Let’s make this quick. If he’s not here, I want to tell Connors we tried and wipe my hands of it.”
I felt a twitch of apprehension as I headed toward the dilapidated bar, but the mace in my pocket gave me confidence, as did having Dawn at my side, who’d left the swords in the ’burban alongside Tank’s arsenal. Given the look of the place, I didn’t think anyone would check my ID at the door, and I wasn’t disappointed.
Night had fallen en route from the Harry Ransom Center, but a more intense darkness swallowed me as I stepped inside. Maybe the owners thought by keeping the place black as crow’s wings customers wouldn’t see how grungy it was. They were wrong. The flickering light of a TV and the glow from the beer fridge illuminated the peeling paint, smoke-stained ceiling, and a balding pool table in the corner. ZZ Top’s “La Grange” played on the radio. A couple bikers talked in hushed tones at a corner table, a pair of old Mexican men smoked at the bar, and a trio of young hipsters in flannel drank their beers while watching the basketball game on TV—Texas versus Texas Tech.