by Dan Willis
“Maybe it’s time you talked to the Wizard,” he offered. It was a suggestion he hadn’t wanted to make, but in that moment, he felt for Sorsha. He’d been in her current situation many times and it was never fun.
She glared at him and the temperature in the room dropped precipitously.
“If it isn’t some new kind of magic, maybe it’s one of his creations,” Alex suggested.
Sorsha looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment she sighed.
“Thomas Edison may hate sorcerers, but he is not flooding New York with clingy fog,” she said.
“Well, then I’m out of ideas,” Alex said.
“What about trying to find the source?” Sorsha said. “You said you might have an idea about that.”
“I did,” Alex confirmed. “I tried narrowing my finding rune, but there was just too much fog to find any place where it was concentrated. I ended up using a rune that can detect the strongest example of a sample material and expanding it as far as I could. That’s how I discovered the fog clumps.”
“Can you use that to find the source of the fog?” she pressed.
“The maximum range of this construct is a five-block radius,” he explained. “It would take me a year to find anything like that.”
She glared at him, her teeth clamped on her cigarette holder.
“Then I suggest you stop looking for secret government projects and get to it.”
“Are you going to pay for the runes?” he asked. “It cost me almost five bucks to cast the one I did.”
“Fine,” she growled, stalking over to glower at him from close range. “Now get busy. And if I find out you’re doing anything other than this…” She left the sentence hanging, giving him a hard stare.
“There’s something else I need to do first,” he said.
“No,” she said, holding his gaze. “Nothing is more important than this.”
“Four men broke into the alchemy shop of Dr. Andrea Kellin last night,” Alex said, anger creeping into his voice despite his resolution to remain calm. “They roughed up her assistant, demanding to know where the doc was.”
Sorsha’s face blanched at that.
“Her assistant?” she said in a soft voice. “Isn’t she the woman you’re seeing?”
Alex was a bit surprised at that. Because of Jessica’s schedule, there weren’t many people who knew he’d been seeing her. Had the sorceress been keeping tabs on him, or maybe the FBI was watching? He wasn’t sure he liked either option.
“Yes,” he said, some of his anger bleeding away. “Fortunately I was there. I got three of them, but the last one got away.”
“Why did they want Dr. Kellin?”
“She asked me to find a missing friend of hers, an alchemist.”
“And now someone’s looking for her?” Sorsha said.
“That’s the way I figure it,” Alex said. “Whoever grabbed him either knows she hired me to find him or they didn’t get what they wanted from him and now they’re looking for another alchemist.”
Sorsha strode over to the writing desk along the inside wall of the conference room that held a typewriter and a telephone. She picked up the phone and used the end of her cigarette holder to dial.
Alex suddenly realized that he hadn’t spoken to Jessica since this morning. It wasn’t likely that the remaining thug would return during the day, but it had been dark for over an hour.
I should have left Jessica my .38.
“Agent Redhorn,” Sorsha said, breaking Alex’s train of thought. “I want you to put a detail on the shop of Dr. Andrea Kellin, she’s an alchemist.”
Alex felt the knot forming in his gut loosen. The FBI might not be much in the actual investigation department, but they were aces when it came to gunning down bad guys.
“Yes, that’s the one,” Sorsha went on. “Dr. Kellin lives there with her assistant—” She looked up at Alex.
“Jessica O’Neil,” he supplied.
Sorsha repeated the name to Agent Redhorn.
“Make sure you send at least two teams,” she went on. “Someone tried to grab the good Doctor last night.” She paused, listening then looked back at Alex. “Do the police know about the attack?”
Alex nodded.
“Lieutenant Callahan has the case.”
“Yes,” she said into the phone, passing on the bit about the Lieutenant. “Be sure to coordinate with them; I don’t want any errors on this. Thank you, Buddy.”
It took Alex a moment to remember that she’d introduced Agent Redhorn by that nickname.
“There,” she said, hanging up. “Now that your paramour and the good Doctor are safe, I’ll expect you to spend your time tracking down the source of this infernal fog.”
As she spoke, she stalked across the floor toward him and her pale eyes seemed to glow from within.
“I’ll still need to check on them,” Alex said.
“That’s what phones are for,” she growled. “Now get out of my office and get to work.”
17
Genesis Water
Alex had no intention of spending his days scanning the city block by block. Someone had attacked Jessica and tried to kidnap the doc, and there was no way he was letting that stand, sorceress or no sorceress. Still, he would have to do something about the fog, or risk having Sorsha follow him everywhere personally. He could try stopping off at the Blue Room and asking about Jimmy the Weasel, but if Detective Hawkins knew Jimmy used to bounce there, it was a cinch Callahan did, too. He had probably already been there. He’d call the lieutenant in the morning and find out what he’d learned.
It was only six when Alex mounted the steps to the brownstone. It had been over a day since he’d been there, but it felt longer. A lot longer.
He pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open, then took hold of the door handle — and walked straight into the unyielding door.
At first, he thought he’d gotten lost in the fog and got the wrong house, but the oval stained-glass window in the center of the door was the right one.
“Damn it,” he swore.
He’d forgotten to call Iggy after the attack on Jessica. That meant that Iggy had worried about him all night and now the old man wanted his pound of flesh for such a breach of decorum. He’d enabled the bars that wouldn’t let the door open until Alex knocked.
Alex really hated the Brits and their elaborate social rules.
Putting his pocket watch away, he knocked on the door. Almost three minutes passed before he heard the door to the vestibule open, then saw Iggy’s silhouette through the stained-glass panel.
“The face is familiar,” the old man smirked as he opened the door. “But I can’t remember the name.”
Alex had expected Iggy to be relieved to see him. On the rare occasions when he’d forgotten to call that he’d be late or out, it seemed to weigh on his mentor. When Alex searched his face this time, there was no sign of that.
“Callahan called you,” Alex said.
Iggy grinned.
“It sounds like you had an interesting evening last night,” he said, stepping back to let Alex in out of the foggy night air. “I assume Jessica is okay.”
“She was this morning,” Alex said, heading for the kitchen. “I need to give her a call, though.”
“Meet me in the library when you’re done,” Iggy called after him as he closed the outer door.
Alex tossed his hat on the kitchen table, then moved to the phone on the wall.
“Hello,” Dr. Kellin answered.
“Doc,” he said, relief flooding through him. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yours too,” she said. “I’m very grateful to you for saving Jessica and...and my life’s work.”
Alex’s smile evaporated at that. He’d forgotten about Jessica using her own body to finish their polio cure.
“Can I talk to Jessica?”
There was an uncomfortable silence on the line, then Dr. Kellin answered.
“I gave her some
thing to help her sleep,” she said. “Her decision to save our cure by injecting herself was…”
She struggled for the right word.
“Dangerous,” Alex supplied.
“I was going to say risky,” Dr. Kellin replied. “It’s very unlikely that it will have any permanent effect on Jessica, but it will make her tired as her body’s natural defenses try to fight it off.”
“Isn’t that a bad thing?” Alex asked, not entirely sure what the doc meant, which was usual when talking to her.
“In this case it’s a very good thing, Alex,” she said. “As her body reacts to the potion, the potion will change. When it no longer reacts, we’ll know it’s ready.”
Dr. Kellin seemed very excited about all this, but that didn’t take the edge off Alex’s worry.
“Will you tell her I called when she wakes up?” he asked.
“Of course, Alex,” she said in a gentle voice. “And thank you again. I don’t know what I would have done if she’d been hurt.”
Alex hung up and shook his head. Doc was brilliant, of course, but she was a very odd duck.
“Everything okay?” Iggy asked as Alex entered the library.
“You got me,” Alex said, dropping heavily into his reading chair. He’d told Iggy the high points of last night’s adventure during their hurried phone call, but he took his time and filled in the rest of the details, ending with Jessica’s decision to inject her unfinished potion into her body.
“That’s actually less worrying than the rest of it,” Iggy said when Alex finished. “I gave it some thought and I remembered that the idea of using the body to create vaccines and cures isn’t new.” He then explained in graphic detail how doctors used to push a needle through the boils of people infected with smallpox, then use them to deliberately infect healthy people with a mild case of the disease. “It was called variolation,” he finished.
“Yuck,” Alex said, pulling a cigarette from his case and lighting it. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
He considered that for a moment, then nodded.
“Most likely,” he said. “But then alchemy isn’t my strong suit. What do you plan to do about the missing ruffian?”
Alex thought about that for a moment. His only lead was that Jimmy the Weasel worked at the Blue Room.
“I’ll call Callahan in the morning,” he said, not really able to think of a better plan. “See what he knows.”
“I’m surprised at you, lad,” Iggy said, using his penknife to cut the tip off a cigar. “You said that last fellow went through the lab window.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, not sure where the old man was going with this.
“I’d say it’s quite likely he cut himself jumping through a window that size,” he went on, puffing on his cigar to light it. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Alex shot to his feet. If Iggy was right, and he usually was, there was a good chance some of the glass in Dr. Kellin’s back yard had the thug’s dried blood on it. Blood Alex could trace right to the man.
“Sit down, lad,” Iggy said, sitting back in his chair and blowing out a cloud of scented smoke. “You’ll never find anything in the dark. Besides, Lieutenant Callahan said he’s got a couple of uniforms parked out in front of Dr. Kellin’s house. You wouldn’t want to get shot if they thought you were an intruder.”
Alex sat down, chuckling at the thought of the police and the FBI minders all trying to be inconspicuous.
“I’m sure they’ll play nice,” Iggy said when Alex explained his mirth. “And the better to keep Andrea and Jessica safe.”
“Well, if the cops don’t like it, they can take it up with the Ice Queen,” Alex said.
“So how did she come to know about last night’s festivities?”
Alex related the rest of the events of his day, including his visit to the Navy Yard and subsequent rescue by the sorceress.
“I’m intrigued,” he said when Alex finished. “Just imagine what a man of Dr. Burnham’s intellect was working on. You said he made gas mask filters for the Army, right? What if he’s come up with a machine to make breathable air on submersibles? The possibilities fire the imagination.”
“Well I’m going to be far too busy to have my imagination fired,” Alex grumbled. “Unless I get lucky, it will take a year to scan the city looking for the source of all this fog.”
“I’ve been thinking about your rune construct,” Iggy said after a short silence. “It was very clever of you to use purity runes to triangulate the position of the densest fog.” He studiously avoided mentioning Alex’s mistake of using three purity runes when he only needed two. “The problem you have is that you’re trying to scale up a rune that was never meant to have much range. You did it beautifully,” he added with a wink. “But what you really need is a way to triangulate over a wide area.”
“If you’ve got any suggestions,” Alex said, tapping his cigarette in the ash tray on the little table between them, “I’m all ears.”
Iggy gave Alex an enigmatic look as he puffed his cigar.
“What are you up to, old man?” Alex asked, recognizing that look.
“I’ll have to do some reading in the morning,” he said. “Give me half a day to figure it out.”
“You’re assuming Sorsha won’t be here in the morning bright and early to conduct me around the city.”
Iggy waved his hand as if brushing away a troublesome fly.
“If she does, tell her you’ll need a day to write all the runes for your searching. She’ll buy that. And then you’ll have time to chase down the men who attacked Dr. Burnham.”
Alex laughed somewhat mirthlessly at that.
“I don’t have any way to trace what he was working on,” he said. “The only clue I’ve got is a piece of paper with an unintelligible formula on it and the word polymer. I figured I could go over to Dow, where Burnham used to work, and ask around. Somebody over there can probably read the formula.”
“I’d say the game is afoot, then,” Iggy said, tapping out his cigar. “You go see Burnham’s old cohorts and I’ll figure out how to refine the rune for you.”
“I’ve got to go to the alchemy shop in the morning and look for that glass,” Alex said. “Whatever Dr. Burnham was working on can wait.”
“I expect that those FBI men the sorceress sent over to watch the shop have orders to hold on to you if you show up there,” Iggy said. “Let me figure the rune out, then you can find the source of the fog magic and the Ice Queen won’t have any reason to bother you.”
Alex didn’t like it, but Iggy was probably right — as usual.
“All right,” he said. He wasn’t excited about chasing down chemical formulas, but staying here and waiting for Iggy would just be torture.
“It’s settled, then,” Iggy said, standing up and giving Alex an expectant look.
“And?” Alex asked.
“And I’m famished,” Iggy said. “I think after making me worry about you last night, the least you can do is buy me dinner.”
Alex grinned and nodded, crushing out his cigarette.
“Well, never let it be said that I didn’t do the least I could do.”
The next morning’s fog seemed a little better, and Alex hoped that meant that whatever strange spell had been cast on the city was wearing off. He’d taken the precaution of calling a cab ahead of time, so he had a ride ready when he left the brownstone. Much of the usual traffic was gone thanks to the fog, so the trip across town to the laboratory where Dr. Burnham used to work only took fifteen minutes longer than it otherwise would have.
“Can I help you?” a perky young woman with dark hair and a pretty face asked. She sat behind a simple wooden desk in an unremarkable lobby. Clearly this was not where Dow Chemical brought its investors, or anyone else they might consider important.
“Actually, I think you can,” Alex said, turning on the charm. “Did a Dr. Leonard Burnham used to work here?”
The woman’s cheerful smile slipped for just a second, but sh
e recovered admirably.
“Yes,” she said, keeping the confusion off her face. “But he retired last year.”
“I was wondering if I could speak with one of Dr. Burnham’s former associates?” Alex said, as if such a request were the most normal thing in the world.
The woman thought about it for a moment, then her smile returned full force.
“Let me make a call,” she said.
Alex stepped away from the desk for a moment while the perky receptionist spoke on the phone. The little lobby of the laboratory was empty except for the receptionist’s desk and a worn couch on the opposite wall. A few pictures of people in white coats standing beside men in business suits hung on the walls, but they seemed more of an afterthought than intentional decoration.
“Someone will be out in a minute,” the woman said, hanging up the phone.
Alex thanked her and turned back to the pictures on the wall. Dr. Burnham appeared in two of them, along with several other people Alex recognized from the pictures in Burnham’s workshop.
“Can I help you?” an annoyed voice assaulted him.
Alex turned and found a balding man with a wiry build, a bushy mustache, and thick spectacles facing him. He wore a shirt and slacks with a white coat over the top, and he had his hands on his hips.
“I hope so,” Alex said. “I’m Alex Lockerby, a private detective, and I’m looking for someone who knew Dr. Leonard Burnham when he worked here.”
At the mention of Alex’s status as a private detective, the man blanched.
“Is Leonard in some sort of trouble?” he demanded.
“Well, yes and no,” Alex said. He explained about Dr. Burnham’s disappearance and his memory loss.
“That’s terrible,” the man gasped. “Did the police catch whoever was responsible?”
“Not yet,” Alex said. “That’s why I’m here, Mr.—?”
“Doctor,” the man corrected. “Doctor Harlan Taylor. I worked with Leonard for years. I’m shocked to hear this news.”