by Amy Hopkins
Penny’s heart fell. She had assumed the agent would know who Trevor had been working with. “About that,” she told him. “He left the message on the machine Wednesday, and he left just after the company came to swap over the box of cash. I think he was trying to follow them.”
“I should never have let him get involved in this,” Crenel grumbled. “Should have believed him when he said it was real.”
“I was the one who convinced you to let him do it,” Penny pointed out. “But really, do you think he would have dropped it if you’d said no?”
“Smartass.” The agent fell silent. “Look, you kids are killing us in the field, and you know Trevor better than anyone at the bureau. Will you take this on? You’ve got a better chance of finding him than anyone I have.”
“Of course,” Penny agreed quickly. “Officially, right? I don’t know what equipment we’ll need, but when we do, I don’t want to be held up with requisitions.”
“I’ll tell everyone involved that you have access to the lot, requests be damned.” Penny waited while he had another muffled conversation, probably with the dean. “You find him, Penny. Find him fast.”
Chapter Twelve
Penny spent the next hours frantically researching. When Crenel arrived back at the Academy, Penny briefed him on what she had learned, both about Trevor’s last movements and the case itself.
“Polybius was an urban legend from the eighties,” she began. “Basically, a game released by a non-existent company with dubious origins. Few people claimed to have seen or played it. All the accounts are second hand, but not long after people started talking about the game itself, a second rumor started.”
She slid a sheet of paper toward Agent Crenel and Dean March. “This is the timeline. Within weeks of the original rumors cropping up, gamers were claiming that Polybius was, in fact, released as a kind of mind control or social experiment by the US government. The purpose was unclear, but most stories agree it was a very cloak and dagger, area 51-styled operation designed to harvest information about those who played it.”
“I’ve made some calls,” Crenel told her. “I can assure you, this was never a government project. It just doesn’t exist.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Penny nodded at Boots, who had accompanied her to the meeting. “It’s real now.”
Crenel hissed a breath through his teeth. “Goddamn it. Gods and ghosts? Sure. They make sense to me. But all this technological myth is just bullshit.”
“I didn’t hear you say that about the million-dollar chain letter, dear,” Dean March cut in smoothly.
“That’s different!” Crenel snapped. “Chain letters have been around for centuries. Basic superstition. This? This is insane.”
“You mean you’re too old to understand it, and you wish it would go away and stop bothering you,” she replied, smiling.
Crenel grumbled something under his breath. “So, what do we know about the machines?”
It was Penny’s turn to curse. “Fuck-all. Sorry, Dean March.”
“Not a bother, dear. The circumstances warrant a relaxation of that particular rule.” She eyeballed her husband. “For some of us, anyway.”
Penny continued, “Tony said the machines at his café are serviced weekly. The goons come in, empty the money, and go. Every now and then, they remove the whole machine. When that happens, it appears again overnight.”
“Appears?” Crenel asked skeptically.
Penny nodded. “Literally. Tony checked his security footage. The corner it sits in is empty at a minute to midnight, and bam, there it is as soon as the date clicks over.”
“And he didn’t think to ask where it bloody came from?” Crenel ignored the dean’s tsk.
“He did get some information,” Penny continued. “Business name, postal address. I have a feeling it’ll turn out to be fake, though. If these really are spooks—the urban legend version of them, anyway—they wouldn’t exactly go giving out the address of their headquarters, would they?”
“They might have a front in case of inquiries,” Crenel mused. “If it’s manned, it may lead us to the organization itself. We can only hope.”
“Anyway, Red is helping me track down what little information we have.” Penny glanced at her notepad. “Cisco is canvassing the businesses around town to try and find the other machines. The next machine service at the café isn’t until Wednesday. I really hope we don’t have to wait until then to find anything concrete.”
“You’re sure he said he was okay?” Crenel asked.
Penny shrugged. “You saw his message yourself. But just because he said he’s fine, that doesn’t mean he is.”
Crenel opened his cigarettes and plucked one out, only to scowl at his wife as she deftly removed it from his fingers. “Not in here, dear.”
“What’s with the ‘three weeks’?” Crenel asked, diverting his attention back to Penny.
All Penny could do was shrug. “Beats me.”
Crenel frowned. “I also saw a million dollars in that message. What if it was a ransom demand?”
Dean March rolled her eyes behind him. “Penny has already explained that was a placeholder entry. It was there before Trevor’s disappearance.”
“Right.” The agent seemed to take it as a personal affront that the situation was so far out of his area of expertise, and that a bunch of twenty-somethings were already so far ahead in understanding that he couldn’t seem to catch up. “Just keep me in the loop, okay? But if we do need a suitcase full of cash, be aware that’ll take some time—and some maneuvering—to procure.”
“Speaking of procurement, where is the machine now?” Penny had insisted on the arcade game being brought in for testing, and to keep it away from any other unlucky victims of whatever was going on.
Crenel looked at his phone. “GPS says they should arrive in fifteen. They’ll do their own tests on it in the Academy lab. They probably won’t let you near it until they’re done. Don’t wanna get a student blown up or anything.”
“Will you let me know as soon as I can access it?” Penny asked pensively. She’d have liked to be the first person to examine it, if only to reassure herself that Trevor’s odd message hadn’t been changed.
“I’ll make sure of it.” Dean March pressed a hand on Penny’s arm. “Don’t worry, Penny. We know he’s your friend. You will have full access to every facet of this investigation.”
“Oh, will she now?” Crenel asked, looking down at his wife.
“Will she not?” The dean’s voice held a note of daring.
Crenel snorted. “Of course she will, she’s running the damn thing. But that’s my call, not yours, woman.”
The dean simply cocked an eyebrow at her husband, but it was enough to deflate his belligerent posture.
“Thanks, Dean. Agent Crenel.” Penny turned to leave but paused before she reached the door. “Did your mother…pass?”
“Pass?” Crenel frowned at her. “You mean, did she place?”
“Did she die? You said she only had minutes left.” Penny winced at her mangled words and cringed even harder when Crenel burst out laughing.
Even Dean March couldn’t smother a smile.
“I’m sure she wished she was dead by the end of it,” he wheezed. “Penny, she was running a marathon. Not dying!”
“What?” The dots connected with lightning speed, and a wave of embarrassment crashed over Penny. “Oh, for crying out loud. I’m such an idiot!”
“No, dear. Professor Madera made an inquiry along similar lines.” Dean March shook her head. “Knowing the way rumors spread at this Academy, I should have known better than to leave without a full and comprehensive explanation as to where I was going and why.”
“How old is she?” Penny blurted without thinking. Crenel himself was as old as the hills, she was sure. How old must his mother be?
“Eighty-six,” Crenel said proudly. “She only started running a decade ago. This is her third full marathon. I missed the last two because of work, and she’s been
dying to show off her new running prowess.”
“That makes so much more sense.” She eyed the agent. “I was beginning to think you were either a cold-hearted bastard or your mother was just awful.”
“Well, you weren’t entirely wrong on the first part,” Crenel admitted. “But I wouldn’t go so far as to celebrate the eventual passing of my mother, no matter how eccentric she’s getting in her old age.”
“His mother is a saint, purely by virtue of putting up with her son,” Dean March stated primly. “Now, I’m sure you’re eager to get started on your search, Penny. I have some contacts who may have some information as well. I’ll be sure to let you know if I find anything.”
“Thank you, Dean March.” Penny left, letting the door swing shut behind her. “Looks like I have a busy few days ahead.”
Penny leaned over Red’s shoulder, squinting at the screen. “Are you sure it’s them?”
She had spent the last hour pacing the Academy library while Red delved into the shell company’s history. They found little information. Penny’s frustration grew as their search turned up nothing except that the company was cloaked in a tight web of secrecy. Until, that was, Red found an address.
“I’m sure they say it’s them. This is the address they gave the postal service when they registered the game machine business, but it could easily be fake.” Red tapped a few keys. “Here’s where it… Oh.”
The map browser he had tabbed to showed “address invalid.” Penny hissed a sigh of frustration. “Is it even a real street?”
Red tried again, this time leaving a building address off the query. The map popped up, a labeled satellite image showing the region the arcade distributor claimed to operate from. The area looked promising, it was full of oversized industrial buildings and warehouses. “There it is.” Penny ran her finger along one of the lines crossing the screen. “Forty-two, forty-eight, fifty-six, sixty. It just…ends. Where’s number sixty-four?”
Red pushed his chair back, almost rolling over Penny’s toes. “Like I warned you, it’s probably just a made-up location.”
“What’s this?” Penny pointed at a vacant lot at the end of the road, nestled behind two warehouses at the end of a driveway squeezed between them.
“Empty land?” Red shrugged. “Even if that lot had a number, it’s not the sort of place you’d hide a clandestine operation. It backs right onto here—” He scrolled the screen to the left and poked a finger at a cluster of small buildings. “That’s a cluster of yoga studios, organic cafes, and spiritual counselors. Do you really think a massive pseudo-government agency would plant themselves there?”
Penny narrowed her eyes at the new map section. She saw streets and buildings, but no business names. “How do you know what those buildings are?”
He gave a self-conscious laugh and pointed to a small, red-roofed row of structures at an intersection. “Me and Amelia do that sweaty sauna yoga thing there.” He moved his finger over. “Then after, we grab a fresh-squeezed organic juice over here.”
Penny looked at him in surprise. “You? Hot yoga? I can see Amelia getting into something like that, but Red?” She stopped, unsure how to put into words how utterly un-yoga-like Red was.
He laughed. “I’d do anything for Milly. Even twist meself into a pretzel twice a week in a box full of sweaty girls, and drink cucumber, quinoa, and goat’s piss smoothies.”
“They don’t put goat’s piss in it. Do they?” Penny had seen enough weird crazes since moving to Portland that she couldn’t quite discount the suggestion completely.
Red shook his head. “Nah. It’s that cilantro rubbish, I think, but it tastes like piss. It’s good for your chakra or something.”
“Right.” Penny slid the mouse over, scrolling back to the road that should have shown the company involved with the gaming machines. “I might take a look anyway.”
Red grabbed her arm. “Not alone.”
“You said the address is made up.” Penny faltered at the concern in his eyes. “But fine. I’ll take Cisco.”
“Nah. Yoga is tonight, so come with Milly and me.” Red straightened and beamed a smile. “I look damn fine in those tight pants, I’ll tell you now.”
Wincing, Penny shook her head. “No. Please. Anything but yoga pants.”
Red linked his arm through hers, dragging her away from the computer. “Now, don’t go getting all flustered, like. Your man Cisco is a good one, even if he’s not hung like a very-well-hung werewolf.”
“I’m going to be sick.” Penny allowed him to lead her away, though.
“I’m very happy with me girl, Amelia,” he assured her. “But, it’s okay to be a wee bit jealous.”
Penny pulled free when they reached the hallway. “What time?” she asked. There were a few more things she could do while she waited, one of them being to call Josh and tell him she wouldn’t make it in to work tonight.
“Around five. That’ll give us time to investigate your missing address and still be in time for the armpit bending session.” Red waved at her. “Make sure you dress for the occasion!”
Chapter Thirteen
With two hours to kill before she was due to meet Red, Penny decided to head to Paddy’s. She could ask around and talk to Josh at the same time. She gave Cisco a quick buzz to let him know.
“I’ve found two other places that had the machines so far,” Cisco told her. “A dive bar not far from Paddy’s, and a local pool. They’ve been removed, though.”
“Shit,” Penny cursed. “That doesn’t help us!”
“Yes, it does,” Cisco countered. “Because that’s not all they said. Both locations mentioned that they had a regular patron who played the machines go missing. And here’s the weird thing. They both turned up three weeks later, dazed and with memory loss. And both times, the machines went missing that night.”
“Trevor’s note said to come looking if he’s not back in three weeks. He must know about those disappearances.” Penny chewed her lips. “One thing. How do a random bar owner and a swimming pool attendee know so much about their customers?”
“It’s a bit hard not to when the cops have grilled you about it twice,” Cisco answered. She could hear the excitement in his voice. “The M.O. was the same in both cases. Both times, the victim went out to the venue—the one at the pool was last seen by a lifeguard, the other had sent a text message to his girlfriend saying he’d meet her at the bar. She was late, though, and an attendant remembered seeing her man at the arcade, no one remembered him leaving. Then, nothing for a couple of days. Family and friends called in the police, who showed photos around, jogging a few memories.”
“Where did they turn up?” Penny asked, half expecting them to have been dropped by the side of the road, hogtied and beat up.
“Where they vanished from.” Cisco sounded triumphant. “Early morning, prior to opening. No one saw how they got there.”
“Are they okay?” Penny asked, alarmed. “Were they hurt?”
“Amnesia. At first, neither remembered who they were. It came back to them over the course of an hour or so, as they recognized faces and surroundings.” Cisco paused. “The pool had their guy’s face on a flyer, so they figured him out pretty fast. The other one almost got carted off as a crazy homeless trespasser, but his girlfriend happened to be driving past on her way to work, and was keeping an eye out.”
“Why didn’t we know about this?” Penny groaned. “We could have warned Trevor off his crazy plan!”
Cisco sighed. “It’s just…not that weird. A drunk wandering off and coming back looking like he’d been on a two-day bender?”
“At a pool?” Penny asked dryly.
“That guy was only eighteen. His parents thought maybe he’d run off like he had once before.” Cisco paused. “Do you think the cops will let us talk to them?”
“I’ll get Crenel on it.” Penny quickly rattled off her own plan to hit the bar. “If this thing is out of the Veil, surely someone at Paddy’s knows about it.”
Cisco ended the call and Penny grabbed her purse. She headed out the door only to catch Agent Crenel on his way down before her.
“I need to speak to you,” she called after him.
He spun and waited for her. “That’s good because I need to speak to you too. Did you email me that account information?”
Penny nodded. The scant details Tony had been able to share included the bank details where he was to deposit a small amount to cover damage to the machines while in his care. “A couple of hours ago. You didn’t get it?”
Crenel grimaced, digging out his phone. “I’ve been too busy to check. But, one of my buddies on the Nigerian Myth task force agreed to take a look for us.”
“That’s the new department opened to deal with all the princes and lawyers popping up?” Penny asked.
“The one and only.” Crenel stared at the glowing screen in his hand, his thumb scrolling for a moment before he grunted. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”
He went to leave, but Penny grabbed his arm. “My turn,” she reminded him. She rattled off the information Cisco had given her. “I know it’s a long shot if their memories have been wiped, but can we track them down and ask them some questions?”
“I’ll make it happen.” Without saying goodbye, he stabbed at his phone again and put it to his ear. “Karen? I need you to track down a couple of kidnap vics for me. Yeah, we need them back in for questioning.” His voice trailed off as he strode away.
Buoyed by the feeling that progress was being made, Penny went on her way to Paddy’s bar. Once there, she accepted a shot of whiskey from the leprechaun gratefully.
“Wee lass, ye look like ye’ve had a day.” Paddy raised his own glass and clinked it against Penny’s.
“I have.” Penny sighed, dreading the thought of going through her story a dozen times over again as Mythers filtered in and out of the bar. “Look, I’m not here for a social visit. I need information.”
“Paddy has a finger on the pulse of Portland, to be sure. What it is yer wantin’ to know?” He waved absently at a trio of fairies that flitted past.
