by Meg Cowley
“He certainly sounds like hard work.”
I didn’t answer, but I agreed wholeheartedly with her. He was hard work and far too slapdash and gung-ho for her prim and proper, methodical approach.
We arrived at Nando’s at six, in plenty of time, and sat to eat first. It was an effort not to tear into my food like an animal. I hadn’t eaten since a measly breakfast that day and the succulent, rich smell of chicken made me drool uncontrollably.
By seven, we both sat back in our chairs, completely stuffed. I toyed with the idea of unbuttoning the top of my jeans – that’s how full I felt – but I decided against it. I groaned, with satisfaction and disgust at how much I’d eaten. This would require an extra work out tomorrow, that was for sure.
Jamie was late, but I’d expected nothing less; he wasn’t exactly the king of punctuality. It was quarter past by the time he strolled in, cast about, waved, and wandered over. I stood to greet him, and inadvertently got myself hugged. I was trying to avoid exactly that. He was solid, warm, and as completely huggable as ever. For a moment, I leaned in before I caught myself. I froze and squirmed out of his grasp, clearing my throat.
“Long time no see, Zo. It’s good to see you.”
I sat and pointedly gestured to the chair opposite me. I’d made sure Hayley sat beside me for exactly this reason. Jamie got a bit too familiar if I wasn’t careful. You’d think I was leading him on, but I couldn’t have made myself any clearer at how much I didn’t – couldn’t – want him. I held in a sigh and fought the urge to punch him. I didn't need to cause a scene in the restaurant. You need him, I told myself.
“Hayley, Jamie. Jamie, Hayley,” I made the introductions.
“Nice to meet you, Hayley.” He smiled and winked with a certain twinkle in his eye I knew only too well. Annoyance panged in me. Would he ever change? Hayley blushed, but her lips pursed with disapproval, too.
Down to business – so we didn’t have to put up with more of this. My fingers skipped across my innocuous charm bracelet loaded with magic runes. They shimmered, and a moment later, we were encased in an invisible sound-proof bubble. The noise of the outside world vanished.
Hayley gaped. I supposed this was the first time she’d seen a charm like that.
“How to have a private conversation.” I flicked her a lopsided smile.
“Wait, don’t I get to eat?” Jamie’s indignance was amusing as he stared at our empty plates.
“After. This is too important to wait.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “The things I do for you.”
“Hmm.” I ignored him. I quickly explained everything I knew about Pandora’s Box, and what had happened to it. At the mention of Marc Nowak and MI5, his eyebrow lifted, but he listened, uncharacteristically quietly, as I explained our predicament.
He blew out a long huff when I finished. “Crikey,” he said after a pause. “So, it’s here in London. And we could be the start of the pandemic for whatever’s inside that… thing.”
“Exactly,” I replied quietly. I couldn’t help but look outside our bubble, at the hubbub of life that continued all around us. All those Ordinaries and Magicai completely unaware of the threat. “We either need to find a way to protect it – really, truly protect it – where it is, or liberate it and return it to our care, where we can make sure it’s safe under wards. Can it be done?” I leaned forward, searching him.
Jamie ruffled his hair, making it even more unkempt. His mouth pursed and his eyes glazed over, seeing nothing as his fingers drummed upon the table and he considered the options. Hayley sat beside me in silence, her attention flicking between us. I dared not breathe.
If anyone had a chance, surely it was Jamie. Our hands were tied; we operated inside the law, but Jamie was an expert at dancing on the fine line just outside it. There had to be something he could do, surely.
But he shook his head. “It can’t be done, Zo, I’m sorry.”
“But there—”
“I’m really sorry, Zo. Once something goes into that building—” he meant the MI5 headquarters, “—I can’t get it out.”
“The great Jamie Atticus Oxford—” he winced at that because he hated being called by his full name, “can’t get past a bunch of Ordinaries?” I said incredulously.
“They might be Ordinaries, but their security systems are immense. The box will be buried as deep inside that building as anything can be.” He shrugged.
I slumped in my chair and shook my head. “Then we’re quite possibly completely screwed.”
Jamie nodded. His smile was more of a sympathetic grimace.
I stood and motioned Hayley to follow me. We were done here. “Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate your time, anyway. If you think of anything, will you let me know?”
“Sure. Off so soon? Don’t you fancy dessert?” He smirked at me in the annoying way he always did, with his lopsided grin and his eyes half lidded as they blazed with suggestiveness. He didn’t mean cake. He never meant cake.
“I’m on a diet,” I said brightly and flashed him a bland, emotionless smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “See you.”
Hayley followed me wordlessly outside. I breathed a sigh of relief as we left and rounded the corner.
“I see what you mean,” Hayley muttered, pressing her lips together.
“Mmm. Just a shame he couldn’t help us. I think this is the end of the line. It’s gone, and there might not be anything I can do about it. I hope Duncan isn’t too disappointed.”
~
Duncan was too professional to show his disappointment, but I knew it lurked under his calm exterior as I admitted our total lack of progress.
“I’ll keep working on it and see if I can think of something. Thanks anyway, ladies.” His smile was weak and unconvincing. “Hayley, if you can delve back into the archives, I have some research topics for you.” He rifled through a stack of papers and fished out a list to give her.
“See you,” she mouthed to me on her way out.
“Bye.” I smiled. “Thanks for your help.”
“As for you, I have another job in the pipeline.” He turned back to me. “Not quite ready yet, but it looks like something is brewing in Hungary. I might need to send you before the week is out.”
“Of course. I’m ready; give the word.”
“Until then, clock off. You deserve a break. You’ve been working really hard lately. When was the last time you took a weekend?”
“Oh? Erm, not that long ago, I mean I’m fine, really,” I said, my eyes wandering anywhere as they tried to think of when I had last had a genuine break. I could hardly call mine and Hayley’s escapades in New York ‘downtime’. Probably that one night in Mexico after finishing the case of Kukulkan’s Skull. It already felt like a lifetime ago.
“Fine, nothing.” Duncan raised an eyebrow. “You’re no good to me at all if you’re exhausted. You can’t work all the time, Zoe. Go on. Take the day off. Everything will still be waiting when you get back.” He spread his arms wide at the stacks of paperwork on his desk.
I grimaced.
He chuckled. “That’s exactly how I feel, too. Let’s hope the Ordinaries can take care of Pandora’s Box.”
I groaned. I didn’t want to be reminded my very existence might be wiped out at any second due to Ordinary negligence.
“That’s the spirit. See you in a couple of days.”
“Bye, Duncan.”
I hoped whatever he had lined up for me in Hungary would take my mind of the potential impending apocalypse.
Chapter Two
I made it one full day of not working, and I was pretty proud before, as usual, work got in the way. I’d just stepped out of the shower: a deliciously hot one that pummelled my aching muscles after jujitsu training.
I don’t know what made me flick the news on, but as I towel-dried my hair, the police sirens were coming from outside my window and on the TV. I slowly lowered the towel, and my full attention flicked to the BBC News anchor.
“
A representative for MI5, Marc Nowak, is due to release an official statement on the security breach at the national security headquarters in a few moments time.”
Security breach? A tingle of apprehension wound up my spine.
“Thus far, all comments have been declined. According to eyewitness reports, a suspect has been detained.” The footage flicked to shaky, blurry, camera-phone footage showing a man on the ground surrounded by black clad, gun-wielding security staff.
“At this time, it is unclear what has happened. Terrorism is not suspected at this stage, but neither has it been discounted by the metropolitan police and intelligence bureaus. We have our security correspondent, Terry Smythe, here to discuss today’s incident. Terry, what does this latest gaffe mean for Britain’s security services?”
I stopped paying attention. I didn’t care if my hair was wet and tangled and I was half dressed. I tugged on the first pair of trousers I found, stuffed my feet into my boots, and ran, dialling Duncan as I left.
“What’s happening at MI5?” I fired at him the moment he picked up. It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t be, but I had to check.
“Pandora’s Box is gone.”
My stomach plummeted. “I’m on my way.”
“Meet me at headquarters.”
It was at times like these I was glad to live so close to work. It meant I was right on the scene whenever things like this happened. Not that anything with the potential this bad had ever happened, mind.
Duncan arrived moments after me, but he didn’t unlock his office. Instead, he beckoned. “Come. Change of plan. We’re going to see Marc Nowak at MI5. I want answers, and we aren’t going to find them here.”
“What happened?”
Duncan threw a soundproof barrier around us as we strode. “Jamie Oxford happened,” he said through grinding teeth. “I presume he told you there was absolutely no way that Pandora’s Box could be obtained?”
“Yes. No way at all.”
“Well, he pretty much strolled in and took it.”
I stopped. “He did what?”
“Like taking candy from a baby.”
My jaw clenched. That lying piece of trash. “Where’s he now? What does he want with it?”
“I don’t know; I don’t know any of it. But he’s gone, and the box with him.”
This was a disaster. “Would he... could he... open it?”
“If he’s smart, he won’t. He knows what it is. But other than rudimentary charms, all that protects it is a flimsy Ordinary invention. Some kind of casing. I doubt it would take much to bypass. We might be running on borrowed time here.”
I groaned. This was worse than a disaster. “I’m going to bloody kill him when I get my hands on him.”
“Well, good luck with that, because he’s vanished,” Duncan growled. He hailed a cab and we piled in as it dashed to MI5, cutting through back streets in a blur.
I couldn’t believe it. Jamie had stabbed me in the back. What was worse, I hadn’t seen it coming. Had I been so blind? So focused on driving away his advances that I hadn’t seen it? Had he planned something like this? Or was this opportunism? I mean, he was a reckless kind of guy; he would act on a whim like this rather than plan it, surely.
I’d said it myself to Hayley: he wasn’t one of the bad guys. But I couldn’t believe the best in him now. Jamie, you idiot. He quite possibly didn’t have a clue what he was getting himself into. Maybe he’d completely ignored everything I’d said at the restaurant. Maybe I hadn’t made it clear how serious the situation was.
We didn’t speak for the rest of the ride and sat in tense silence until the taxi driver could go no further. He pulled up by the police cordon, and we paid and jumped out. It was a typical London crime scene: most folks strolling past and slowing for a nosy ogle, but carrying on with the hustle and bustle of their lives. Nothing much did stop London from ticking.
Duncan pulled out his ID badge for the museum and held it up for the nearest police officer to see. “We’re here to see Marc Nowak regarding the incident.”
“I can’t let you through, I’m sorry.”
“Then radio your superior, and their superior, if you have to. Get my colleague and I cleared. We’re connected to the cause of the disturbance, and are quite possibly one of the few teams that can help.”
The officer turned away to speak into his radio.
“Marc should be expecting us. I left him a rather nasty voicemail,” Duncan added to me in a mutter.
We dithered for minutes that felt like hours until eventually our security clearance arrived in the form of one impatient police officer who was to escort us onto the premises. Glass doors opened seamlessly and inside, full body scanners and security I normally only saw at airports awaited.
After we’d been searched, scanned and swabbed, and our possessions, too, we were allowed inside at last, where Marc Nowak awaited us. Mr. Suit. I should have guessed. If possible, he looked even more grey and drawn than before. The bright white lights did nothing to fill him with life.
“Come to my office.”
Out of the way. He didn’t want to make a song and dance about this, I was sure. We followed him until we reached an office overlooking the city on one of the upper floors. It was bright and spacious; Marc even had a sofa, as well as his plush desk and chair. He definitely wasn’t a grunt, then. He waved us to it and offered us a drink from his personal automatic coffee machine before he leaned against his desk with his hands in his pockets. We remained standing, too.
“I won’t say that I told you it was a terrible idea for the box to be relocated here, but I will ask: how in the heck did you let it get stolen?” Duncan slammed his hands on his desk.
Colour flushed Marc’s neck and he glowered. I reckoned not many people would get away with talking to a high-ranking MI5 operative like that, but both the Ordinary and our own Magicai Prime Ministers gave Duncan a lot of leeway. Our team did important work, for both Ordinary and Magicai worlds. As laid back as Duncan was, he didn’t enjoy having to bark to another’s command. Especially, Marc Nowak.
“Not that I see how any of this is your business, but… it seems, I’m to afford you every courtesy. We’re still determining how exactly the box was stolen, but it appears he bypassed many of our security systems without even coming into contact with them. We’re not sure how — some kind of superior gadget or technology. It should have been impossible.” Marc shook his head. Duncan and I exchanged a glance. It was easy for us to figure out the answer, because we already knew. Magic.
“He got clean away before we…” he paused, aware his next words would damn him. “Before we realised,” he finished lamely.
“Right. So, the box is gone, along with Oxford, and you have no idea where either is?” Duncan raised an eyebrow.
I crossed my arms, glaring at Marc. He was as stupid as Jamie. Jamie was reckless. Marc was arrogant. He’d seen our museum and thought we couldn’t take care of ourselves, thought he’d have to swoop in to save the day, to lock the nasty little box away and throw away the key. If so much hadn’t have been at stake, I would have felt quite smug about how very, very wrong he was.
Marc shook his head.
“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” I spat. “Do you know how long it took — what it cost me — to get that damn box? I chased it across the world, and it took everything I had to bring it back safe. And you go and practically give it away! Do you have any idea what you could have unleashed upon the world?”
“The pathology tests haven’t come back yet, so it may be a myth rather than a deadly virus or, or whatever the legends say.”
“I’ll tell you what was in that box.” My voice was dangerously quiet as I stood and stalked towards him. “That box contains exactly what the legends say, and worse. If you don’t get it back, the human race might not live to see another year. Right now, we are your best chance of stopping that. But we need Jamie, and we need that box, wherever they are. What intelligence do you have on him?”
>
“That’s classified,” he said instantly, indignant.
I scoffed. “You’re really putting the secrecy of a nobody like Jamie above the priority for getting Pandora’s Box back? Please, don’t make me laugh.” Disdain dripped off my tongue.
“You think I’d share high-level intelligence with you? How did Mr. Oxford know where to find the box? Who else knew about it? It seems your team must have been the ones to leak it.” He glared at us.
I clenched my jaw and did not answer; I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Even if I did want to kick myself because I put the blame squarely at my own feet for being stupid enough to trust Jamie.
He picked at a set of papers. “Jamie Atticus Oxford. Twenty-eight. Caucasian.”
“I know what he looks like,” I snapped.
Marc pursed his lips. “Currently known to be working for an organisation run by The Ghost.” His eyes flicked to us. He fed us tidbits. He wanted to see how much we knew. I met Duncan’s gaze. He was as nonplussed as I.
“The Ghost, one of the most infamous hackers in the world,” clarified Marc. “Wanted by numerous law enforcement agencies, but has evaded capture for nigh on a decade now. The Ghost is rumoured to be a woman by the name of Cleo, but we have no further intel on her. Their business claims to be ethical hacking, but it doesn’t matter. Pretty much everything they do breaks one law or another, no matter the reason they claim to do it.”
“Wow.” Jamie was working with a hacker and an Ordinary? It didn’t add up. “You think he took the box for this… Ghost?”
“Who can say? It doesn’t seem likely. The Ghost specialises in digital viruses, not real ones. But perhaps.”
I sensed he wasn’t telling me everything he knew, but I couldn’t think what questions to ask. Interrogation wasn’t in my skill set. “So, where do we begin looking for this Ghost and Jamie?”
“The only lead I have for now is a tracker on his mobile. It went dead and was found destroyed at an address not too far from here, along with some other evidence. There were no signs of forced entry, but the property doesn’t belong to Jamie and we can’t find any connections between him and the owner.”