by Andy Hyland
“Therefore, Patrick will accompany you, in order to ensure that anything you need is provided at a moment’s notice.”
This evidently came as much as a surprise to Patrick as it did to me. He sat there for some seconds with his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, before snapping it shut and nodding. “Of course, Mr Lamarchand. My pleasure.”
“Really? Oh I doubt that, but please try to play nicely with each other. Such a fine, fine place you have here, my dear. If a trifle on the small side.” Max stood, nodded to Julie, and made his own way out.
Patrick and I stayed staring at each other for some time. “Well then,” I said eventually. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Julie stayed behind, throwing out a vague excuse about some things she had to catch up on. What she was going to do, of course, was jump straight on the phone to Zack and Arabella and inform them that we had a party-crasher. Ideally, she’d also get hold of Mercy, who needed some support at the moment herself.
I stood in the snow outside of the building, pondering my next move. Patrick was making some calls out of earshot, lips barely moving and cold eyes flicking back and forth across the street. Finally finished, he tucked his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and walked over to me.
“Just so we’re clear on this,” he said, “everyone in that room knew you were lying. Just because we move in higher and cleaner circles than you doesn’t mean we don’t know bullshit when we smell it. And you reek of it.”
“Why don’t we -”
“I haven’t finished. We need to be straight with each other, because one way or the other we are getting this situation resolved, and quickly.”
“Agreed. Go ahead.”
“I don’t believe you. That’s a given. But Max doesn’t believe you either, and that’s a problem for you.”
“He appears to have left me to get on with things.”
“No, he left you with me. That’s not even close to being the same thing.”
“So why didn’t he call me out on it?”
Patrick sighed. “Max is, at the moment, back doing what he does best – calming people down, whispering platitudes and happy thoughts in all the right ears, and stopping a bunch of over-privileged ego-driven idiots from getting out of control. He is far and away the best thing to ever happen to the Manhattan magical community. If he doesn’t actually know what’s going on or what you’re up to, then he can maintain the plausible deniability he needs – because some of the bitches he meets for lunch can sense a lie as soon as look at you. So we do our jobs in order for him to do his.”
“This isn’t sounding like the happy little bunch of Mage-born folk that I’ve been meeting these past months.”
“You’re a fly skating on the surface of a very deep pond. You’ve only lasted so long because Max has your back. He genuinely seems to like you. Odd, but there you go.”
“And where do you fit into all this?”
“Me? I keep on top of things so that Max doesn’t have to. So before we go any further, I want full disclosure. Now, if you please.”
I shrugged and gave it to him straight. He nodded along, grimaced at regular intervals, and was rubbing the bridge of his nose by the time I finished. “My, my, Mr English, you certainly make life exciting for yourself. It’s good that you’ve kept this quiet so far. If the Union were to find out, there would have to be a - gosh, and it would be the first one for hundreds of years. However, we can run interference and prevent them from getting involved until it’s all dealt with.”
“Won’t they be onto the killings as quickly as you were?”
He rolled his eyes. “Please. The Mage-born are extremely well-connected, unimaginably rich and so bored they’re onto the slightest whiff of scandal, sometimes before the police themselves know about it. The Union on the other hand are bureaucratic and some of them still only use landlines. The only way they’re finding out about this is if someone blabs. I take it your people are trustworthy? Good. And of the Mage-born it’s only myself and Max involved to date, and we’ll keep it that way. Very well. I suggest we get going. What were you going to do first?”
“Speak to the mother.”
He shook his head. “Already tried. I called my police contact, but she maintains that the woman is so heavily sedated she’d just keep on grinning if you kicked her.”
“You’re Mage-born, and you asked a cop for help with this?”
“Of course. It was the most efficient course of action. Why?”
I tutted and smiled. “Watch and learn, Mr Everheart. Watch and learn.”
Sometimes things just go right for you. Due to her condition and the severity of the crimes involved, Charlie’s mother, Sally Kirkwood, had been transferred to Lennox Hill hospital in Manhattan. I’d only been there once before, but Zack’s current squeeze still worked in the ER. I called him, he called her, and the delightful, redheaded Dr Alison Penrose met us round the back of the place by a fire exit.
“Mr Malachi English, looking as well and recovered as ever. Any more awful accidents, followed by miraculous recoveries?”
“Hi Doc. How’s you?”
“Engaged in a constant struggle to get Zack over for dinner. The call just now was the first time I’ve heard from him in two weeks. I think he’s avoiding me.”
“You? Never. He’s just a busy, busy man. Thanks for helping us out with this.”
She shook her head. “You’re mistaken. I was never here. You never spoke to me. You found this door open, with this keycard just lying on the floor where it had been carelessly dropped. You then made your way up the corridor, turned left twice and somehow found yourself outside Sally Kirkwood’s room, which is currently left unattended.”
I took the keycard. “Appreciated.”
“Don’t mess with her, Malachi. She’s been screwed over enough for one lifetime.”
“We’re the good guys Doc. We do no harm.”
Alison gave me a long look, then turned away. We followed her instructions and in a little under three minutes were outside the room. She was as good as her word – however she’d done it, the police guard was somewhere else. I suspect donuts were involved.
Sally Kirkwood lay in the bed with the sheets tucked neatly around her. She was calm, and the sides of her mouth were twisted in an ever-so-slight smile. Straight blond hair, with a few freckles. Just this side of forty. And now with a husband dead, one son murdered and the other one a ruthless killer who’d dragged his sisters off somewhere. Not what the lady had expected when she made the family dinner yesterday. Life deals you some shitty hands sometimes.
I placed my hand on her brow and sensed inwards, slowly. She was down deep with the drugs, and her consciousness was a thick gray soup. Making any progress with her thoughts or memories would be like swimming through mud. More chance of me getting dragged down and ending up like her than actually getting the info I needed.
“See? A waste of time,” said Patrick, who was constantly glancing over his shoulder.
“One door closes, you kick open another one. How much experience of magic do you have, by the way?”
“I have been fully trained by -”
“I said experience, Patrick. On the streets. Fights, scuffles, interrogations, drinking competitions, cheating at poker. That sort of thing.”
“I…that is to say, magic is a fine and noble art. We do not -”
“Thank you, I think you’ve answered the question well enough. Look, there are no rules. It’s just about what works and what you can get away with. We can’t get what we need by going into her, so we need her to come out by herself.”
“The drugs she’s on, though. Let me call one of my contacts – a doctor himself. He’ll be able to -”
“Put your phone away and pay attention. She’s on a wide spectrum of powerful depressants. What we’re going to do is use magic to counteract them – think of it as a stimulant. I need to be careful with this, so you’re going to ask the questi
ons while I keep her awake enough to answer, but not so awake that she’ll freak out and scream. We don’t need visitors.”
“Indeed. I am ready.”
I took Sally’s arm and channelled a small stream of power into her, picturing it coursing round her body, carried by her psychic aura in the same way that blood would carry oxygen. The heavy sleepiness lifted, but only marginally. Must be some impressively potent stuff they were pumping into her. I upped my input, and felt her stir, start to come around. Gradually, over the course of a minute, I brought her up to the brink of consciousness. “Okay Patrick. You’re on.”
All credit to him, the guy was good. In a soothing and calm voice he called her by name, and started the questions. “It’s important that we find the girls. You’re safe and nothing can happen to you or them, but we need to find them. Go back to last night and tell me what happened. Your husband was in the bathroom, your son in his bedroom. Your girls, they were asleep? And where were you?”
In a dozy, slurred voice she led us through what had happened. She had come down for a drink. Found Charlie standing at the bottom of the stairs. “I was so happy,” she smiled. “He put a finger to his lips. Told me to be quiet. It was a surprise. We were going to go away somewhere safe. Somewhere he wouldn’t be able to hurt us again.”
“Hurt you? Who wouldn’t hurt you?”
“Pete. Charlie’s Dad. He’s not a bad man, but they…riled each other up. Pete has a temper on him.”
“Has he ever hit you, Sally?”
She blinked, faltered. “Patrick, don’t go there,” I told him. “It’s stressing her. She’ll come round fully, too soon. That’s not good.”
“So, Sally,” Patrick began again. “Where was it Charlie wanted to go?”
“He wanted to take me and the girls,” she said. “Somewhere we could all be together. Forever.”
“And where was that?”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t…I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Try to think, Sally. Please.”
I could feel her mind tightening, waking too much. I sighed and closed off the flow. “Good work, Patrick. But if she doesn’t know, she doesn’t know. I reckon the Dad heard them, Charlie lost his temper. Dad first, then older brother – no idea why. That broke Sally, and Charlie legged it with the girls.”
“Hell of a theory,” came a voice from behind us. “But I think it’s worth talking about, don’t you, Stu?”
I turned round slowly. Mary, the gray-haired cop from last night, along with her buddy, the less-than-talkative Stuart. “So – Mr English, right? – why don’t we start with what you know about Charlie Kirkwood, and we’ll go from there?”
She had a hand on her pistol. Stuart was reaching for his radio. “Hey,” I said, holding up my hands and trying to smile charmingly. “Look, why don’t we just -”
I didn’t reach the end of the sentence. Patrick reached up slowly with his hand. Mary’s eyes grew wide. Stuart began to twitch. Then blood started leaking from her nose. Stuart’s left eye rolled right back in his head and the side of his mouth pulled down in an ugly leer. As one, they collapsed to the floor. I stepped over and checked for pulses.
“What the hell was that? Why did you…for pity’s sake, Patrick.”
“They’d seen us.” His voice was wavering. “They knew your name. I met her last night. She didn’t seem the kind to take bribes, and her file doesn’t indicate any obvious routes to blackmail. So.”
I looked up. “So? So you killed them just like that?”
“I take no pleasure in it. But for the sake of the greater good, I believe - I believe it was the right move.” His face stiffened. “I may lack experience, but don’t underestimate what I am capable of.”
I glared at him. For all his arrogance, he couldn’t meet my eyes. “Bloody hell. Max sent me out in the field with a rank amateur. There’s any number of things we could have done.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know. But we’d have thought of something, wouldn’t we? Had we hurt anyone, committed any crimes? All we’d done was sneak in where we weren’t meant to be. That was it. But now we’ve killed two cops. Nice one, you prick.”
“The community -”
“Community be damned. Come on, let’s get out of here before anyone else comes along.”
I pushed past him to the door, stepped respectfully over Mary’s corpse, and jogged as quietly as possible back the way we’d come. I reached the fire exit, only to turn back and find that Patrick wasn’t behind me. I waited a few seconds, hoping he’d appear round the corner, but he never came. Still I hung about, until the sirens started wailing, growing in number as more cop cars swung round past where I crouched, heading for the main entrance. I cursed Patrick, the Mage-born, and lawyers in general. And then I left.
“Zack,” I said, as soon as he picked up. “You know those massive problems we already had? Well they just got worse. Meet me at Julie’s, and tell her to get hold of Max. His days of plausible deniability are now officially over.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Max strode about Julie’s living room, face contorted in a mask of near-rage, looking like he was about to start throwing furniture at me. It wasn’t going well.
“He was my top man, damn it.”
“That’s as may be. But he wasn’t up to the job. He panicked.”
“Did anyone see the two of you? Besides the doctor. We’ll deal with her.”
“You won’t,” said Zack. “Leave her to me. I’ll think of something.”
Max rounded on Zack, jabbing his finger. “If she so much as opens -”
“Enough!” I shouted. “You need to calm down, because nobody standing in this room is the cause of the problem we’re currently facing.”
He took a deep breath. “Unless we count me,” he said sullenly. “And my appalling judge of character. Patrick has been my right hand man for years now. He knows everything. I thought he would be ideal.”
“Different worlds,” I said. “Can anyone get hold of him?”
Max sat on the sofa and shook his head. “He’s not answered my calls, which doesn’t bode well. Go on then. What exactly are we dealing with here?”
I told him the full story. His expression never wavered until the end, at which point he simply said, “Shit.” Then, “We need to find that boy. Soon.”
“The problem being,” I noted, “that we have absolutely nothing to go on. And we can’t go knocking on the neighbors’ doors asking about him while there’s an investigation of two brutal murders going on. Not to mention the two missing kids – three, if they’re still counting Charlie as well.”
“Not entirely true,” said Zack, leaning back on the sofa and closing his eyes. “Your little visit, on balance, wasn’t worth two lives, but you did get something. We didn’t know before that Charlie’s Dad was abusive.”
“And that changes what?” Max asked.
Zack hesitated before continuing. “If your Dad’s kicking the shit out of you on a regular basis, you’re not a stay-at-home kind of kid. He’ll have a safe place. A sports club, school club, something that allows him to not be at home at night or on weekends. Find out where the local kids go. Find out where his friends are. And you’ll find Charlie.”
“And this intuitive leap comes from where?” Max demanded. Julie put her hand on his arm and shook her head. Realization dawned in his eyes. “Ah. I see.”
“I’m on it,” said Arabella, who’d whipped out her smartphone and was already typing with both thumbs.
“So why the house?” Julie asked. “You were going there with him to watch his family for weeks – no, months. Why would he want to go there if it carried all those memories?”
“We already know the answer to that one,” said Zack. “His little sisters. His mom freaked, so he settled for taking them. We don’t know how he got on with his big brother, but I’m guessing that wasn’t a great relationship either.”
“So he won’t have killed them, then,” I said.
“That’s good. He wants to keep them safe.”
“I remind you that we’re dealing with a vampire here,” said Max. “They degenerate. Mercy’s influence has held him together this long, but now he’s off the leash and angry. And he’s killed twice. The girls don’t stand a chance.”
“They do if we get to them,” I insisted. “A bit of positivity here, please.”
“Okay, here’s something,” said Arabella. “The Hangout. Youth Center in Crown Heights, open every day after school and on weekends. Run by Second Baptist Church. The youth pastor’s the main contact – guy called Alan Pierce.”
“Get onto him,” I said. “See if he’s ever heard of Charlie. And convince him not to open tonight.”
“Are you thinking Charlie will just turn up?” Max asked.
“No. I’m betting he’s already there.”
“Let’s go then.”
“No. Not yet. We still need to get hold of Caleb and tell him what we’ve found out. And you’re not coming anyway.”
Max stood and drew himself to his full height, which unfortunately wasn’t much, and I had to stifle a laugh. “I did not ask for your permission,” he spat.
Fortunately Julie was there to intervene. “There’s no point in us stopping all this if word gets out anyway,” she reasoned. “Not only have you got to keep all the plates spinning, but now we’ve got Patrick to worry about as well.”
“Patrick has plenty to worry about himself,” muttered Max, “including finding a new job. And a new city. We do not tolerate the taking of innocent lives unless it is absolutely unavoidable. Which this was not.”
“So deal with it,” I said. “Please. If there’s anything we need your help with, we’ll call. But, with respect, this is our kind of work, not yours.”
“Then just make sure,” Max said, fixing me with his eyes, “that you get your work done.”
By the time we had the ground work done, night was closing in fast. The four of us stood looking at a converted industrial unit that sat in the middle of a patch of wasteland. It was battered and worn, only available as a clubhouse because the original owners had let it fall into disrepair, to the point where the money it would take to fix it up for sale made that course of action unpalatable. Second Baptist Church, led on this particular charge by all-round good guy Alan Pierce, had come in, begged, borrowed and repaired enough furniture and old games consoles, and created somewhere worth coming. Kids could get help with schoolwork, have fun and talk over any problems they were having. I wondered if Charlie had ever shared his particular problems with Pastor Alan. I was guessing not.