by Simon Hawke
"It's the same damn story all over again," said Megan. "The locals are screwing up their case and they're trying to cover their own asses. So much for Loomis. He wasn't getting anywhere because he had one of the damn killers working right alongside him. Can you believe it? Christ, they've made a mess of it. Where's the rest of the team?"
"I sent them out to put Ramirez and his house under surveillance," Rosowitz said. "He's over on 2535 Declovina. Anybody goes in or out of there gets tailed."
"Surveillance, hell," said Megan. "We're moving in. Come on, let's go."
Not five minutes after they left, Loomis arrived at the door of their room with the hotel manager. He knocked on the door, hard, several times.
"Open up, police!"
There was no response.
"Open it," he said to the manager.
"Uh, Lieutenant, I really should see a warrant . . ."
Loomis grabbed the keys from him and opened the door himself, then went into the room. It was empty. The first thing he spotted was the police band radio on the table. There was a notepad beside it. He went over and picked it up. Written on the notepad was, "Cornwall, Michael; Loomis A.P.B.; assaulted two cops, stole cruiser. Same name as an address for jacket printout trace."
"Shit, " said Loomis. He turned and rushed out of the room.
They parked a short distance down the block from the adobe house on Declovina Street and Megan used her radio, with its special frequency and built-in scrambler circuit, to contact the surveillance team.
"This is Leary," she said. "We just got here. Give me a report."
"Chambers here," came the reply. "Things are pretty quiet in there. A little while ago, we had some activity. Two of them came out with Ramirez. Young male, mid to late twenties, about average height, slim, curly blond hair, shoulder length, dressed in jeans and a short warlock's cassock. Young female, answering your description of Kira. They had Ramirez between them. He was blindfolded. They got into a tan rental sedan and drove off. Andrews and Stein are on them. We've got at least one more in the house. Young male, long white hair, late teens or early twenties, about five-eight, five-nine, athletic build. Looks like an albino. There may be others in the house, but if there are, we haven't seen 'em."
"That cinches it," said Megan. "They've got Ramirez. Where are you, Bill?"
"Opposite end of the block from you, in the white sedan parked at the corner."
"Okay, I see you. We're going to hit the house. You and Mason take the back, we'll come in from the front. How much time do you need to get in position?"
"Give us three minutes."
"Right. Get moving."
She watched as the white car at the far end of the block pulled away, so Chambers and Mason could come in from the next street to cover the rear of the house. She started to time them.
"I don't want any slipups," she told the others. "We go up to the front door, I knock and yell B . O. T , to keep the locals happy, and then we break in immediately. Chris, you kick in the door. Remember, we don't know how many of them might be in there, so don't take any chances. Have your weapons drawn and ready. First sign of any resistance, shoot. Save your spell strength, we'll need it to keep them subdued. Got it?"
"Got it," Rosowitz said.
"Right," said Stanley.
They checked their weapons. Megan looked up from her watch. "All right, they should be in position. Let's go."
Stanley started up the car and drove down to park in front of the house. Warily, but quickly, they proceeded up the front walk, keeping their eyes on the windows.
"Front window's been broken," Stanley said.
"Must have happened when they took Ramirez," Megan said. "I'll bet he put up a struggle. But they had the girl on the inside and he probably didn't have a chance."
She indicated, with quick jerks of her head, where they should take up position on either side of the door. Then, with her pistol held pointing up, she stepped up to the door, pounded on it three times, and yelled, "B.O.T.! Open up!"
Immediately, she stepped back and Rosowitz kicked open the door. They came in fast, pistols held ready, out in front of them, swiveling to cover all angles of the room. Simultaneously, Chambers and Mason broke in from the back.
"Chambers comin' through!" yelled Chambers as he came in from the back of the house, alerting them not to fire at him by mistake. Mason followed him closely. They saw no one.
"He's gotta be in here somewhere," Mason said.
"Check upstairs," said Megan.
Three of them went upstairs, while Rosowitz stayed downstairs with Megan. They moved cautiously through the living room.
"Maybe the albino teleported out of here," said Rosowitz. "Jeez, look at all this stuff," he said. "Sculptures, art, guy's even got a fuckin' suit of armor standing here."
"Never mind the bric-a-brac," said Megan. "Check out that back room." She jerked her gun toward the door leading to the den.
"Cover me," said Rosowitz.
She took up position standing by the suit of armor, where she could duck behind it for protection, and leveled her gun at the door.
"Go."
Rosowitz threw open the door and quickly stepped back while Megan covered the opening, then entered the den.
"Nothing in here," said Rosowitz, coming out a moment later.
"There's nobody upstairs," the others said, coming down.
"Chris, get out to the car, in case Andrews and Stein call in," said Megan. "The rest of you, search the place."
"Look at this," said Stanley, picking up an unfolded map from the coffee table. "A map of the city, marked off into sectors. And check this out. The locations of the murders are all marked. We've got 'em, all right."
A quick search of the house followed. They tore the place apart.
"Looks like there were at least three or four of them staying here," said Mason, coming down from the upstairs.
"Hey, look what I found," Chambers said, coming in from the kitchen. He was carrying Broom.
"Let me go, you neanderthal!" Broom protested, waving its spindly arms. "Put me down this instant!"
"Let it go," said Megan.
Chambers put Broom down.
"What's the meaning of this?" Broom demanded angrily. "What gives you the right to come breaking in here?" And then it recognized Megan. "Oh . . . it's you. Little Miss Stormtrooper."
"Shut up," said Megan. "Where are they?"
"Who?"
"You know very well who," Megan replied angrily. "Don't play games with me, you animated dustmop. Where did they take Ramirez?"
"Dustmop? Dustmop?"
"Answer my fucking question!"
"Such language. Is that how your parents raised you? They took him to the doctor, if you must know."
"What doctor?"
"How should I know what doctor? The eye doctor. He hurt his eyes."
"I'm sure," said Megan. "What happened to the albino?"
"What albino?"
"You want I should slam it against the wall a few times?" Rosowitz asked.
"Don't you touch me, you thug!"
"Oh, leave it alone," Megan said. "It's harmless. The stupid thing is useless, anyway. Come on, let's get out here. Take that map, it's evidence. We'll check in with Andrews and Stein and find out where they took Ramirez."
They trooped out of the house and back to their cars. Broom stood with its hands on its hips, or at least the spot where its hips would have been if it had hips, and sniffed contemptuously, a curious thing for it do since it did not have a nose.
"Useless! Well! I never!"
Behind it, the suit of armor moved, stepping away from the wall. There was a blinding flash of white light and Billy stood in its place.
"I'll have to warn the others," he said. "Stay here, Broom."
He teleported.
"So where would I go?" Broom asked the empty room.
"Are they gone?" asked Gomez, peeking out from underneath the sofa.
"Fat lot of help you were!" Broom said.<
br />
"I'm outta here," said Gomez, heading toward the door with a slight limp.
"And where are you going?"
"I've got things to do, Cupcake."
He went out the door.
Broom threw its hands up. "Has everybody around here gone meshugge? Gevalt! Look at this place! It'll take me hours to clean up!" It started moving around the living room, picking up the mess the agents made. Moments later, Loomis came bursting in through the open front door.
"Now what?" Broom said. "This place is like Grand Central Station!"
"Where did they go?" asked Loomis.
"What, your Nazi stormtroopers? Who knows? They came in here, tore the place apart, threatened me, called me a useless dustmop, and waltzed out of here without a by your leave."
"Did Leary say where they were going?"
"She said something about checking in with someone to see where they had taken Paul. I told them, they took him to the doctor, but—"
"What doctor? What happened?"
"How should I know what doctor? Why does everybody come to me with all these questions? What do I look like, an encyclopedia? Some eye doctor they took him to. His eyes were hurt when the Dark One came here—"
"The Dark One was here? When? Is Paul all right?"
"What, I was looking at my watch? How should I know when? I was in the closet, saying a broche that I got out of it alive. Why did I ever leave New York, I ask you? It's safer there with just the rapists and the muggers."
Loomis rushed out of the house.
"And there he goes," Broom said, gesturing expansively. "How do I get myself mixed up in these things? I don't need this tsuris. New Mexico, Land of Enchantment! Feh!"
The doctor insisted on having Paul check into the hospital. Paul resisted, but Wyrdrune and Kira prevailed upon him not to argue. In his condition, there was nothing he could do to help them, anyway. At the very least, he could get some very much needed and well-deserved rest.
"We'll take it from here, Paul," Wyrdrune said. "You just take it easy and get better. We'll keep you posted on everything that happens."
"Gomez . . . he's hurt. He'll need a vet."
"We'll take care of it," Kira reassured him. "You've had a close call. You just rest now. You've done everything you could."
"Get that bastard!" Paul said vehemently.
"We will," said Wyrdrune.
"Believe it," Kira added.
They went back outside to their car.
"How the hell did the Dark One find us?" Kira asked. "How did he know where we were?"
"I don't think he did," Wyrdrune replied as they walked toward their car. "I think he was only after Paul. It wouldn't have been hard for him to find out Paul's address. I don't think there's any way he could have known that we were there. Paul's been receiving all the coverage as the Bureau agent handling the case. If the Dark One got him, in the same way as he killed his other victims, the media would play it up very big. Think of the effect it would have."
They got into the car.
"Don't look now, but you're being followed," a voice suddenly said from the backseat.
"Billy!" Kira turned around, startled as he materialized behind them.
"What do you mean, we're being followed?" Wyrdrune asked.
"A team of Bureau agents came busting into the house shortly after you left with Paul," said Billy. "Where is he, by the way?"
"The doctor's checking him into the hospital."
"Probably the best place for him," Billy said.
"What happened?" Kira asked.
"They ransacked the house, found the map we were using, with the locations of the murders marked, and came to the conclusion that we were a cult of necromancers. However, I think they suspected that already."
"Leary," Kira said. "That idiot's going to ruin everything."
"Not if I can help it, she won't," said Wyrdrune. He raised his hands in a thaumaturgic gesture and started to mumble under his breath.
"Wait a minute!" Kira said. "Don't—"
The entire car disappeared, only to rematerialize about two feet above the Santa Fe River. It fell into the shallow water with a splash and a jarring impact.
"—teleport!" Kira finished.
"Ooops," said Wyrdrune.
"I can't believe you did that," Billy said.
"I can," Kira said sourly. Water started to seep into the car. "Great job, warlock. Now what do we do?"
"Well, at least I lost our tail," Wyrdrune replied with a weak grin.
It was well past four o'clock by the time Loomis got back to his office, feeling completely frustrated. It was as if they'd all simply disappeared. Leary and her agents, Modred, Kira, he had no idea where they were. He had put a call in to Sgt. Velez and had him check with every eye doctor in town until he found the one where they had taken Paul and from him he'd found out that Paul was blind and in the hospital. The doctor didn't seem to think the damage was permanent, but he told Loomis that only time would tell for sure.
Loomis had immediately rushed down to the hospital, where he found that Paul was driving everybody crazy and refusing to take a sedative until he could talk to him. As if he needed a sedative, thought Loomis. The man had been awake for two days straight. Briefly, Paul had filled him in on what had happened. Loomis had decided not to burden him with the knowledge that his home had been broken into and ransacked. He had more than enough to worry about as it was and he was out of it now, in any case.
As soon as he left the hospital, Loomis had called in and ordered a car sent down to watch Paul's house, at least until he could do something about getting the front door repaired. The man had a lot of valuable possessions and with all that he'd already been through, one thing he didn't need was to be burglarized on top of it all. He didn't think that Broom would provide very much security. If Modred and Kira came back to the house and saw the police car, they could either teleport inside the house directly or simply stay away. The phone was ringing as he came into his office. He snatched it up.
"Loomis."
"It's Modred, Joe."
"Jesus, am I glad to hear from you!" said Loomis. "Look, I know about what happened. I just left Paul a little while ago. You haven't been back to the house, have you?"
"No. But I understand we had some visitors."
"How did you know about that?"
"That's not important. What is important is that this will be our last chance to stop the Dark One before the fiesta starts. We must find him before then."
"You think he'll strike again tonight?"
"Without a doubt. He'll want to bring his strength up as much as possible before he attempts a spell powerful enough to take all those lives. And I'm certain that he'll do that on Friday, when the streets will be the most crowded. Now we're going to try something rather unorthodox tonight and we'll need your cooperation, so listen carefully . . . ."
"This is the nuttiest damn thing I've ever heard of," the cop said as he sat astride his horse just beyond the barricades. "It's crazy, if you ask me."
"Good," the second mounted cop replied. "You tell Loomis that it's crazy. Me, I'm not about to argue with him. Besides, for all we know, it just might work."
Across the street from them, in the center of the plaza, Gomez set perched on the base of the obelisk, addressing a large gathering of thaumagenes. There were hundreds of them, thaumagenetically engineered beasts of all description. Cats and dogs and paragriffins and every sort of bizarre hybrid that a thaumageneticist could devise, though most were variations on common household pets. A crowd of curious people had gathered around the far edges of the plaza, kept back by the police. None of them had the faintest idea what was going on. They had never seen anything quite like it. A TV news van pulled up and the camera crew started to get out.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the mounted cop said, riding up to the reporter together with his partner. "We're going to have to ask you to move."
"Do you know what's going on here, officer?"
"I said, I'm
going to have to ask you to move, ma'am."
"But we're here to cover this."
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to ask you to move back behind the barricades."
She looked to where he was pointing. "But we're not going to be able to get any shots from there!"
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
Further protestations were to no avail. Loomis had been very specific in his orders. He'd worry about taking the heat later, but he was not about to let the media tip off the necromancer to what they were trying to do. When Modred had first told him the idea, it had sounded ludicrous, but the more Loomis thought about it, the more he came to believe that it just might work. It was worth a shot. They had nothing left to lose.
"Okay, now you all know what to do," Gomez was saying. "As you come up here, I'm going to give you your assignments and the location of your contact point. Those of you not assigned to any specific individual will be assigned to patrol sectors and you will report to the contact points in those respective sectors. There will be a police car parked at every contact point. The moment any of you spot the sort of thing we've talked about, report immediately to the police car at your contact point and they'll call it in. Do not, repeat, do not become involved yourselves. Got that? Okay, now form a line over here and let's get started . . ."
"You think it's going to work?" asked Kira, sitting with Billy in the back of Loomis's car. Loomis was outside, talking to some of the officers.
"I hope to hell it works," said Modred from the front passenger seat.
"I hope to hell Leary and her goons don't screw everything up. I can't believe they ran down our address."
"Don't worry. After I talked to Loomis, I called Makepeace."
"Sebastian?" Billy said. "What's he going to do?"
"Move us."
"Move us?" Kira said. "What do you mean, move us?"
"Pack up Archimedes and all our personal possessions and move us."
"How the hell's he going to do all that before the Bureau moves in? He'll never have the time!"
"He said it would be no problem."
"Is he nuts?" said Kira. "He weighs over three hundred pounds! He looks like he's never performed the least bit of physical labor in his life! How the hell's he going to move us? It'll take him forever!"
