“I will have a full breakfast,” he called. “I’m not meeting the man until 2pm.”
I sighed. “They don’t do full breakfasts here.”
“WHAT?” he cried, causing everyone in the cafe to look around. “How can they call this a cafe if they don’t serve breakfasts?”
I felt the weight of accusing eyes from the other customers drift to me, as if I was responsible for my friend’s behaviour. I asked him what he would like instead. “Lemon muffin.” He replied.
Caffeine circled my blood in high concentration. We had sat waiting for over an hour, three more cups of coffee had been ordered. On top of this morning I now felt jittery. But I had to order them, I felt guilty sitting in the cafe not drinking anything. Felix was still staring intently out the window, his frown growing deeper.
I tried to take his mind off it, thinking this man would surely text when he had arrived. “So, you know about my ex-girlfriend right?” he didn’t respond. “I can’t decide if I should, perhaps, text her or not. I mean I have sent quite a few, but they were rubbish ones. I was thinking if I told her I still loved her.”
He pulled his gaze away from the window long enough to fix me with his famous disappointed stare. For a moment, he almost looked like an adult. “She cheated on you, treated you like crap, kept all the friends and stuff, left you with nothing and you are still creeping after her? You, my friend are a cuck. She is a bitch. Where’s your self-respect?” he said, a bit too loud. “This is my only advice: delete and block her on every device you own and move on from that bad excuse for a woman. Most of them are a waste of time anyway.”
He went back to staring out the window. A man on the opposite table gave me a knowing glance. I rolled my eyes in return.
“What’s a cuck?” I said, curious. Knowing it wasn’t going to be a compliment, I braced myself.
Felix, like a human dictionary, then reeled off: “A man who is desperate for acceptance, approval, and affection from women. This desperation has led to the compromise of his beliefs and values, the desecration of his dignity and self-worth, and his inability to stand up for himself and what he deserves as a human being, eg. loyalty, fidelity, and honesty in a romantic relationship.”
Hmmm.
The wizard’s phone started ringing, after answering he went wide-eyed and stared out the window. “On the way.”
We crossed the road to a bustling Trafalgar Square. Following the wizard, I spotted a man sitting on the edge of the water fountain, holding a bunch of white flowers, lilies I think, if you’re going to put my horticultural knowledge to the test. He also had a small Jack Russell dog sitting next to him, but that wasn't the only thing I noticed about the man. He was shaking his leg and staring around the Square, agitation written all over him.
He spotted Felix and stood, coming to meet us halfway. We shook hands.
“How did you know who I was?” says Felix.
“You just look like a wizard,” said the man who introduced himself as Kriston. He was around the same age as us and looked to be of greek descent, for his hair was dark, and skin olive. Felix did his usual scan of the man before nodding to himself, seemingly appeased with what he had found.
Kriston’s dog started barking at Felix, in that way Jack Russell's do. Not viciously, just in that annoyingly consistent way. “Harry!” Kriston snapped. “Be quiet.”
The dog quelled.
“Don’t worry that’s normal,” said Felix guiding us all to sit on the edge of the water fountain. “Let’s all take a seat.”
In front of the client, so far, Felix was a consummate professional, a far-cry from his usual blustering, nonsensical self.
“So you are a real wizard?” said Kriston, still in an agitated voice. To which Felix replied that of course he was, but he appreciated it’s hard to understand in a world that doesn’t allow the discussion for real magic. “Okay, well, I will pay you well. I mean, I don’t know how much you charge or if you can even help me. But, your advert on Google said you could find things?”
“Yes,” said Felix nodding once. “But why don’t you tell me what happened, from the start.”
“Well, sure…” Kriston adjusted his coat, scanning the Square for the fifth time that minute. “I came into possession of this ring. A very special ring. It meant a lot to me. Sentimental value, you know? But then I lost it and I have no idea where it went, and it’s immensely important that I find it. Like, life or death important.”
Felix asked questions and scribbled notes into a little pocket notebook as Kriston described this particular ring. “Any markings or discernible scratches on it?”
“No.”
“Colour?”
“Silver,” said Kriston.
The questioning went on for a while, so I played with the dog, which was a pleasant little thing now it had stopped barking.
“I don’t know how much you charge,” said Kriston when the questions ceased. “But here’s £300 upfront. That’s all I could get out of the cash machine. And then, I will give you another £2000 when you get the item back to me. That’s all I can afford right now. Does that sound okay?”
Felix made a small noise in his throat. “Yep, that should just about cover it.” I imagined that this was more than Felix was used to getting.
Kriston passed the £300 to the wizard, who tucked it beneath his jacket. “How long do you think it will take you? Because it has to be ASAP!”
“Of course, I will get on it right away and report back when I have news.”
“How long?” Kriston strained.
“I can’t say, if it’s a simple retrieval, then a few hours. If it’s more complicated, it could be a few days.”
Kriston buckled, he looked on the edge. “Let’s hope it’s simple then. Gentlemen.” Kriston shook our hands again, and left with Harry the dog, walking fast towards the nearest Underground station.
Felix couldn’t hide the smile on his face. His eyes alive with dollar signs. “The easiest job in the world!” he proclaimed, snatching up the bunch of lilies and passing them to a pretty lady walking past. “For you, beautiful lady.”
It’s a good job the wizard had walked off because the lady’s partner had joined her looking towards the wizards with a deathly glare.
“This is brilliant!” said Felix. “Just in time as well. I can pay all my debts off with this!”
Oh good, I thought, he can pay me back too. That would be nice, if it ever happened.
“Right, I need to make a stop off at a particularly brilliant shop to get some supplies.”
He was in a high mood, but it would only last a few seconds…
His phone rang again. “Hello?” he said joyfully.
I could hear the voice of Karen Magdalen speak: “Felix, it’s Karen.” He stopped dead in the middle of Trafalgar Square. His tone changed, now it was his turn to be agitated.
“Oh hi Karen, how can I help?”
“Felix, I wanted to let you know that you are officially wanted for questioning in relation to the murders of the two security guards. It will look better for you if you come quietly.”
Felix stared ahead silent.
“The warrant for your arrest is out. They are coming for you. This is an occult murder investigation.”
“Murder by magic.”
The tinny voice echoed back. “Exactly. We’re working closely with another occult specialist…”
“Don’t bullshit me Karen, I know you’re working with Alister at PI Wizz. Did you do that just to wind me up?”
“Of course not! But we needed help seeing as the media have picked up on it, as you well know. I just wanted you to know that I…”
As she spoke, I heard these soft clicking noises, Felix heard them too. A second later, he realised what she was doing. But it was too late.
“You rang me to triangulate my position!” he cried.
“I’m sorry Felix. It’s my job.”
“Why me? You know I didn’t do this!”
The ominous s
ound in the background of: “We’ve got him!” shouted a voice and then: “All units!”
Suddenly, not fifty feet away, a police car screeched to a halt. The blue lights and siren began to flash. Two police officers jumped out of the car and began frantically looking around the Square.
Another nearby police car screeched to a halt the other side of the Square. And then the other. All roads and exits were blocked. We were cornered from all sides.
“Please tell me you have your wand.”
10
Caught at Atlantis Occult
Every exit was covered by police. Karen had thrown Felix under the bus, tracked his location by his phone and then called in all available nearby police cars to his whereabouts. This was getting serious, they were getting desperate for an arrest.
I looked up at Felix, as we stood in the centre of Trafalgar Square, he looked scared and worried. His eyes had glazed again like they did when he was thinking hard.
“Can’t you do some magic to get us out of this?” I cried, as the nearest police officers spotted us.
But Felix had frozen to the spot, like a rabbit caught in headlights. I mean I assumed he would know what to do, have some escape plan already. But now, here I was wondering if I should just run away without him—but then I would be evading police?
He stared intently at the stone ground as if he was looking through the floor at something, eyes flickering up and down.
“Do some magic Felix!” I cried, giving him a hard shove, hoping it would prompt him into action.
He muttered something sarcastic to himself about just doing magic. I had given up hope when six police officers approached tentatively in a large circle. A small crowd had gathered, prompting the wizard to pull the baseball cap over his face. The police got so close I could see the nose hairs on the nearest, a bit of food in the teeth of another, her hand stroking a taser. I gulped.
Then, finally, the wizard acted.
“I’m sorry Nelson,” he said, for a moment I thought he was talking to me. But then, he pointed his wand up at Nelson’s Column, that huge stone monument at the centre of Trafalgar Square. Felix screwed his face up like he was lifting up a truck.
CRACK! Went the column. A long shard of cracked stone, right at the base. This caught the attention of the crowd and the police. With shouts of No! And, I couldn’t quite believe my own eyes, Nelson’s Column was about to fall!
The wizard was using the wand like a fishing line, pulling it back as far as he could. It was as if he had a rope around the top of the column and was toppling it single handedly.
“Woah! Go-go-GO!”
The policemen jumped out of the way, running for cover as the column tottered.
“Why are you pulling it towards us?” I said to Felix who wasn’t listening. Then in one moment of ominous silence, Felix relinquished his wand and effort. The Column poised, that odd stage, half between falling and not. “Felix?”
“RUN NORTON!” He called, already half-way across the Square!
“Christ!” he was a fucking maniac. And I had no choice but to follow the terrorist wizard. I ran as fast as I could after the wizard who was in an ungainly sprint towards Charing Cross Underground which stood at the edge of Trafalgar Square. What he didn’t see, was a policeman pelting towards him from his blind spot.
“Felix!” I cried. “Behind you!”
Felix just had long enough to the see the whites of the policeman's eyes, as he tried to rugby-tackle Felix to the ground, before the wizard pointed the wand at him propelling him ten feet into the air.
I caught up to Felix who was stumbling and grabbed him by the jacket. “What do we do now?”
Hang on, in all the chaos, I hadn’t heard the crash of the column—I turned slowly around. And there, bold as brass was Nelson’s Column, untouched, no crack and still standing.
“How?” I said in a rather confused tone.
“I’ll explain later,” said the wizard, jumping down the stairs to the Underground three at a time. It had gotten worse though, apart from the police doing anything they could to try and capture us, now rather brazen members of the public took it upon themselves to try and trip us up on the stairs.
“Can’t you do something about them?!”
Felix pushed a lady away, this was impeding us big-time. “I can’t think of anything without hurting them.” He said, as I had to shove an older man in the chest—I am not proud of it, but what choice did I have? “Thought of something!” said Felix triumphantly, pointing his wand at the stairs. Instantly, they smoothed into a slide. Everyone fell to their arse, and slid all the way into Charing Cross Underground terminal. This may sound pretty sadistic, but that was so much fun.
More sirens echoed behind us. “Armed response,” said Felix knowingly.
“What’s the plan then?”
“Escape!” he cried. “To be more precise, we get the 3:06pm train, which should be arriving any second now…”
When I asked where to, he shouted back: “Anywhere!”
Felix took up an enhanced rate of speed as we raced through the terminal, he jumped clean over the ticket barriers, to shouts of disapproval. But worse shouts echoed louder over them: “Armed police! STOP!”
Oh my god. I was running away from armed police. I had known the wizard for 2 days, and I was running away from armed-fucking-police!
Bursting through the tunnels as petrified Londoners stepped to the sides Felix said: “They won’t shoot us in here, too many pedestrians!” Oh that made me feel a lot better.
Three underground guards came looming into view at the end of the tunnel, they looked big and strong and primed themselves for a fight.
But Felix didn’t do magic. He whipped out his wallet from an inside pocket (I was as surprised as anyone to know he actually owned a wallet, he never used it), before screaming at them: “POLICE! Get out of the way!”
That authoritative shout did enough, for their confidence dwindled and they made no attempt to catch us as we skidded onto the platform. The train was already there, doors about to shut. Felix grabbed me, yanking me forwards and throwing me into the carriage with him. Just as several heavy booted armed guards came storming onto the platform. But they were too late. The train had already pulled away.
Felix childishly gave them a wave as the rest of the passengers in the carriage looked at us in only that way a Londoner riding the Underground does: perplexed at seeing me being thrown through the doors, but no one actually saying a thing.
“That’s it,” Felix said. “Go back to your phones and devices.”
We took a seat. “Bloody zombies,” he muttered. I sat, sweaty, hot and frightened.
The train rumbled through the underground tunnels, with no idea where we were getting off or what the wizard’s plan was. He sat as quiet as I, contemplating what had just happened.
“Are you going to tell me then?” I muttered in a rather small voice. “How you made Nelson’s Column look like it was falling?”
“I couldn’t honestly blow it up for real could I?” said the wizard. “They’d have me up on charges of treason or something. I just made a holographic overlay, and projected it,” he said like he was explaining how to make a cup of tea. “The rest was just acting. My wand will have run out of charge now!” He said, rolling his eyes and tapping the wand.
Out of charge? I wondered, imagining him plugging it into the mains like an iPhone.
“Big holograms like that are very magically intensive, they will fool the general public, but not a wizard or psychic.”
The person next to me got off, leaving his newspaper. I picked up The Metro, the front page read: Gas Explosion Blamed for Fire at Broken Into Bank.
It’s thought that the recent break in at Covent Garden Security Vaults, was carried out by highly trained operatives. A fire broke out at the bank the next day, while police were searching the area. The fire all but destroyed any remaining evidence. It broke out at around 2:30pm and raged for 30 minutes, then quite suddenly bef
ore the fire brigade arrived, stopped. One witness even claimed that the fire was purple, a fact that one source in the police even confirmed. Police now think that this gang accidentally broke a gas pipe on their way in, which caused the explosion. Investigations are ongoing.
My brain hurt.
As the train stopped in Camden, I remembered my car — I had only paid for an hour’s parking. That car was becoming a complete money pit. How many parking tickets would it collect before I was able to get back to it? I wondered.
“Thing is,” said Felix out the blue. “I would never kill anyone. I could break into a bank vault easily yeah, but I’d never kill anyone. I suppose people just don’t like me.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s not about being liked. It’s politics.” I said. “Karen and Bob are under pressure to get a result because of the media’s pressure.” I flashed him the Metro Newspaper.
“It’s all turning to shit,” he said. “If I can just find Kriston’s ring, I’ll have enough…”
We changed a couple of stops, Felix knowing the map without having to look. And ended up getting out at Covent Garden. Following the wizard, I think we both felt quite weary, but he seemed charged up with the original mission of finding Kriston’s ring, no less because of the huge reward it offered.
It was a ten minute walk from Covent Garden, I was reminded of coming here yesterday (which felt like years ago now) and investigating the bank break in with Felix.
Now, as we walked, I felt exposed, every passerby that caught my eye could be the person that captured us. An undercover policeman, a general bystander who knew who we were, or even another wizard who ran a Private Investigation firm who had a grudge.
ATLANTIS OCCULT
Read the shop sign, painted in golden leaf, on a sky blue background with lots of tiny pentagrams and other odd markings in black I didn’t understand. It stood on Museum Street, which led on from Drury Lane.
Wizard for Hire Page 7