A Mage's Fall: Dark Manhattan (Malachi English Book 2)

by Andy Hyland

  “I wouldn’t dare,” I said, smiling. “Mercy’s stuck here till the sun goes down. I want you two researching Balam. Weaknesses, traits. I’ve only ever thought of him as an untouchable…master. Now I want him scoped out as an adversary. The sooner we get our heads round him as someone we can beat, the better.”

  “Understood,” said Mercy.

  “Bit lacking in books round here, lately,” said Julie.

  “It’s for each one of us to build our own collection. But I’m sure we can find somewhere that has a few more on offer,” said Mercy, “can’t we?”

  They smiled at each other. I’d have to get to the bottom of that later. “Before we all rush, off though, I said to Julie, “I need you to make a phone call.”

  *

  Bob and Lucy Wang occupied the small three-office suite above the Outworld Emporium. Bob was a short, intense guy who always reminded me of Mr Miyagi from The Karate Kid. Although we were pretty sure Lucy existed – both Julie and I had spoken to her on the phone – she’d never actually been seen, and was a bit of a mystery. They organized tours of the Far East, running the whole operation from bookings to travel plans and acting as guides. Fantastically successful, by all accounts, and away from New York for half the year. Julie had struck up an immediate friendship with them, and when she told them I needed to borrow their office for a couple of days, no questions were asked.

  From their front window I had a good view of the street outside Casa Rosas. Sooner or later, I was sure, Valen would turn up, peering through the windows of Anton’s restaurant. Two reasons for this. Firstly, I’d already caught him doing it once – it was how we first met. And secondly, if my family were in town, even though they wouldn’t recognize or greet me, I’d be doing the same thing. Some things you can’t fight.

  I found the most comfortable chair, stocked up with soda, coffee, popcorn and chicken bites, and settled in for the long haul. The first day passed without incident. Julie called twice to chat. Zack called once to tell me I was wasting my time. I told him, politely, to sod off and that I knew what I was doing.

  I made a point of checking in with David, not managing to speak to him, but having a few chats with Ollie, one of his babysitters. A rota had been hastily put together, with four of the Aware taking shifts and checking in with one another every few hours. No change in his condition so far. “Don’t want to sound pushy,” said Ollie on our first call in a hushed voice, “but we’re hearing things about this guy. That he’s behind some of us going missing. You sure we’re doing the right thing here?”

  “In my opinion, yes,” I said, being as honest as I could be without spilling my guts about the whole thing. “He needs looking after. We need to do it. He’s one of us.”

  “Understood,” Ollie said. “If you say so, that’s good enough for us.”

  Nothing changed on the Valen front until lunchtime the next day, by which point I was sick of soda, buzzing on coffee and wouldn’t touch any more popcorn or chicken bites if you paid me. Perhaps, I’d started thinking, Zack wasn’t wide of the mark, and I was sitting here letting time tick past while more kids got abducted on the streets.

  But then I saw him. Only his back the first time, as he made his first pass, but then his face as he came back the other way. He wasn’t looking good. No visible damage, just drained. Empty. On his third pass he stopped, leaning against a streetlamp. Then he walked up to the window, pretending to read the menu, looking through the glass for a glimpse of his brother and nephew.

  I was downstairs like a shot, swinging round doorframes and taking the steps four at a time, nodding to the Emporium staff as I burst through the door that led into the shop and sprinted out into the street. He was still there, completely oblivious to me. I walked up, out of his line of sight, finally approaching him from behind. If he’d been at all on guard he’d have felt my presence. As it was, he didn’t know I was there until it was too late.

  “Hey, Valen,” I said, taking his elbow and sending an electrical jolt up his arm. “How’s it going? Long time, no see.” He looked round, panicked, and tried to pull away, but I held him fast and send another, stronger, jolt into him. “Give me any trouble,” I said, smiling, “and I’ll fry you where you stand. Everyone’ll think it’s a heart attack. No problems for me whatsoever.”

  “He sees me, anyone sees me talking to you,” he hissed, “and I’m dead.”

  I nodded. “I’d agree with that. But right here, right now, I’m the only one that you need to worry about. We agreed on that? Good. Let’s go inside.”

  It was a quiet lunchtime so far, only a few tables filled. “Hey, Juana,” I said to one of my favorite waitresses. “Is downstairs open yet?” She shook her head. “Great. I’m going to borrow it for a minute or so. Sure Anton won’t mind.”

  Once we were downstairs I could skip the happy act, and pinned Valen up against the wall, my hand on his neck. “You have no idea,” I said through gritted teeth, “how much I want to bust your face open, right here, right now.”

  “But you’re not going to, right?” he said with a nervous grin. “Reason for that, yeah? Something I can help with?”

  “I want to know all about Balam’s operation. I want to know where he is, what targets he’s got planned, everything. And you’re going to tell me, or I’m going to get in touch with my inner bastard, and let him start expressing himself.”

  “You think I know that shit?” he wheezed as I pressed harder against his throat. “I’m muscle. I scare people. That’s all. I don’t know any more than what I’m told, and that’s nothing. I’m only in it for the money, man, seriously.”

  “You hit her,” I said, the red mist starting to come down. “You were going to have her killed.”

  “What choice did you think I had? It was her or me. You’d have done the same. We all would.”

  “You’re of no use to me,” I said, flexing my fingers, getting ready to call down the fire. He saw the movements start and fear lit up in his eyes as they widened.

  “I’ll tell you what I can,” he said. “I can tell you who we hit, where they were, what they did. That’s got to be worth, something, right? You’ve got to be able to use that?” I paused. He had a point. “I give you that, then I walk out of here. I want your word.”

  “You think my word is worth anything after what you did?”

  He looked at me. “Yeah, with you, I think it is. You’re crazy like that.”

  I let him sweat for a few seconds, then patted his chest and eased off his neck. I pulled a notepad and pen out of my pocket and shoved it into his gut. He took it, leaned over a table, and started scribbling. When he was finished he tore the page from the book and held it out to me. “Here. Eighteen names. Locations, descriptions, what we did. What she did.” He backed over to the staircase. Halfway up, he pointed at me. “You got the jump on me this time, but you’d better have someone watching your back. Because I’m not stupid enough to let people walk out alive.”

  “Make the most of it,” I said as he left. “It’ll only happen once.”

  I looked down at the list. Time to get to work.

  Chapter twenty-two

  I made the phone calls. Told everyone to get to Julie’s. Zack was fine with this, Arabella was already there, but Julie was still working with Mercy so we agreed to catch up that evening. I started walking, but as Central Park came into view I felt cold, started to get the shakes. I put my hand to my forehead. Cold, clammy sweat. All down my back as well, soaking through my shirt. This would be a really bad time to come down with the flu. It was only a few blocks to go, but I hailed a cab. The driver, quite unnecessarily, told me I looked like shit. He was quite right but I reduced his tip anyway. Nobody gets paid for stating the bloody obvious.

  “Oh, man,” said Zack, when he saw me. By the time I got through the door, the sweat was pouring down my face and my head was pounding. “What’s happened to you? Was all that sitting down doing nothing a bit too much?”

  “Shut it,” I whispered, rig
ht before pitching forward on the floor as the lights went out.

  *

  “He’s up,” said Arabella, the first person I saw when my eyes opened again. I was staring at the ceiling of one of the bedrooms, lying on one of the beds. I looked down. Someone had stripped me to the waist, and Arabella was holding a sponge and a bowl of water.

  “How long was I out for?” I asked.

  “Just short of half an hour,” said Zack, walking in. “How do you feel?”

  Good question. The headache was gone. So was the chill. “Not bad. Bit drained, like someone’s taken a few swings at me. But better. No, I’m fine, let me up.” I gently pushed Arabella away as she tried to get me to lie back down. “Whatever happened, it’s gone now.”

  “So you heal miraculously as well now?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  “Maybe it was only…hell, I don’t know what it was, but it’s gone now. Can someone get me a drink?”

  “Sure,” said Arabella. “Coffee?”

  “No, I’ve drunk a ton of that lately. Come to think of it, that was probably what did me in. I’ll take a water. Let’s get round the table, put some plans together.”

  I showed them my list, they showed me theirs. Mine was longer. I won. “One name? That’s all Dialgo could give us?”

  Zack nodded. “He said everyone from Inspector upwards couldn’t be trusted. One name that kept coming up, one of the guys pulling the strings, is this man right here.” He jabbed a finger at the scrap of paper in front of him. “Deputy Chief Hatfield. Mark Hatfield. We could go round the lower ranks if you want, but why bother? Let’s hit him up.”

  “Makes sense. But there’s this list from Valen.” Arabella flinched at his name. “Don’t panic. He even looks at you again, he’s finished.”

  “Long list,” said Zack, taking the notepaper and scanning it. “I’ll put the word out.”

  “No way. We keep this tight. Between ourselves.”

  Zack shook his head and waved the list at me. “Really? Have you seen this? Even if things go well and we don’t do stuff like eat and sleep, and we get really lucky, this is, what, three days’ work?”

  “We’ll get it done. Too many people start talking, Balam’s going to know we’re at work.”

  “Man, you think he doesn’t know that already?” said Zack. “He’s not an idiot. He’s several times smarter than us. Well, you, anyway.”

  “Malachi,” Arabella said, keeping her voice level. “Three days. We’re trying to stop kids getting taken here, right? How many will go missing in three days?”

  Damn it. She had a point. “Fine. Only the ones we can trust,” I told Zack. “You reckon we can put many boots on the ground with this?”

  “Trust me,” he said. “Once your name gets mentioned, there’ll be a queue. I’ll start with some of the leftover names we didn’t use for babysitting David.”

  That threw me. “People were stepping up for that? Why?” I asked.

  Arabella coughed a couple of words into her hand. It sounded a lot like ‘Head Wizard’. I let it go for now. Julie needed some serious talking to.

  “Fine. Zack, you get on with that. I’m going to have a quiet work with Deputy Chief Mark Hatfield.”

  “What about me?” Arabella asked. “You planning to ground me?”

  I smiled. “Not at all. In fact, if you can spare me a few minutes of your precious time, I’ve got a job that you’ll quite like.”

  *

  Mark Hatfield lived up in Washington Heights, a few blocks from me. Nice place. Doorman and everything. In fact, when you thought about it, a much nicer place than a cop’s salary could spring for. Even someone who’d clawed his way up the greasy pole to the heady heights of Deputy Chief. I got there early evening. No lights on in his third floor apartment. I had a choice: wait for him to arrive and then follow, or get in there first and have a snoop around. A light rain started to fall, and that decided things.

  A quick and harmless mesmer ensured the doorman wouldn’t remember me. The lock on Mark’s door was tricky, but no more so than you’d expect for someone in his line of work. Once inside, the alarm started to quietly bleep, and I tapped it lightly, sending a shock through the system and frying the circuits. Inside. Job done. As quickly and thoroughly as possible I started a sweep of the place, starting in the bedrooms and working through to the kitchen and bathrooms. Nothing. No incriminating documents, no weapons, no cash. Not even a hidden safe. Whatever Mark was involved with, he was keeping it very separate from his home life and family. Wise man. I picked up a photo from the kitchen worktop. Mark and, presumably, Mrs Hatfield. The older side of middle-aged, but both healthy and happy, on a beach. No sign of kids on any of the other photos around the place.

  Still no sign of the Hatfields getting home, so I helped myself to a beer from the fridge and settled in by a window, admiring, as always, the New York night. Dazzling lights, and so many types of opportunity. It was nearing eleven when a cab pulled up outside and the doorman opened the rear door to greet the couple. They hurried inside from the rain, him in a dinner jacket, her in a shimmering green gown. A few minutes later Mark unlocked the door and entered first. He reached for the alarm, a frown crossed his forehead, and he froze. I waved to him from the shadows across the living room.

  He took it well, I’ll give him that. Slowly and deliberately he pointed to a door to the far right – his study. Already searched and found to be clean, and as private a place as any within the apartment. He turned to face his wife, blocking her view while I disappeared inside. “Honey, I’ve got to make a few calls. You head off to bed. It could be a late one.”

  She took the news with a sigh, disappointed but, after all these years, clearly not surprised. I sympathized. Some jobs didn’t stop when you left the office. I sat in the chair behind the desk for the minute or so it took for Mark to get his own beer from the kitchen, enter, and firmly close the door behind him.

  I was expecting several things from him. Surprise. Anger. Violence, maybe. But not what I saw in his eyes as he stood there looking down at me. Not the fear. “I told him this place was off limits,” he said, his voice shaking a little. “That was part of the deal. I’ve played straight and fair with him, and I don’t expect to walk in and find one of his -”

  I held my hand up. “Relax,” I said. “I’m not one of his. I’m on the other side of things. The side that is really going to screw your life right up if I don’t get the answers I’m looking for very quickly indeed.”

  “The other side?” he said after a pause.

  “Yeah, the other side.” I kicked back in the chair and put my shoes on the mahogany desk. He winced. “The side that’s really not happy with the deal you’ve made with a certain demon. The side that’s deeply and fundamentally pissed off that you’re aiding and abetting the abduction of children. The side that knows where they’re going and what their lives are going to be like, and will move heaven, Earth and hell to stop that happening.”

  “Keep your voice down,” he hissed, glancing towards the door. I realized that I’d come close to shouting the last words. Nice and calm, I told myself, and took a long breath, in and out.

  “Nice place,” I said, making a point of looking round. “What do you tell people when they ask where the money came from?”

  He couldn’t meet my eyes. “Sheila’s family. I tell them she comes from money and that they’re generous. If her family ask, I make shit up. Political appointments, stuff like that.”

  “And you sit pretty in the middle. Money for kids. Nice. Does Sheila know?”

  He glanced at me, puzzled. “You think…you think I did this one for money? No, you listen here – all this,” he waved his hand around, “this is from other stuff. Earlier stuff. Not from kids.”

  “Wow. Career corruption. New York’s finest.”

  “Don’t. Don’t. You mind?” He nodded at a chair. I shrugged. He pulled it over and sat down.

  He was breathing hard now. On the edge of a panic attack or a blackout.
“Tell me about it,” I said, trying to keep him focused. He was no use to me passed out on the floor. “Tell me why after pocketing dirty money for years, decades, all of a sudden you’re not into cash anymore.”

  He reached over the desk. I backed off, but he went for the left hand drawer, lifted up a false bottom and pulled out a slim white envelope. Emptied it onto the desk. Photos. A couple of kids, smiling. Some were holiday snaps, others were formal portraits. Towards the back there were more candid pictures – taken from a distance, slightly grainy.

  “These are?”

  “Kaiden. Alice. My sister’s kids.”

  “Ah.” Now it was falling into place.

  “I do as I’m told, they’re left alone. I fail to put into place certain instructions, certain behaviors in the force, and they will be taken. You see?”

  I nodded, and looked up at him. “Those instructions are?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “I’ll ruin you,” I said. “I’ll pull your life down around your ears. And then, after everything is gone, I’ll really go to work on you.”

  “Will you take the kids?” he asked.

  He had me there. I wouldn’t touch them and he knew it.

  “Didn’t think so. Me and Sheila – we couldn’t have any of our own. Some things money can’t fix. Could have adopted, but – well, there always seemed to be something else that needed doing. So Kaiden and Alice – they’re everything to us. Always have been.”

  “I can protect them,” I said.

  “Liar.” Couldn’t argue with that.

  “Give me a chance to stop him. To stop them all. He’ll never know the intel came from you.”

  “No deal. He’ll know. He always knows.”

  This wasn’t going well. “I can make you, you know. Even if you don’t want to.”

  “Yeah,” he said, sitting back in his chair, a man resigned to the hand fate had dealt. “I figure you could.” He picked up a picture of him and Sheila from the desk – this one of them riding horses in Central Park. Smiled.

  Then in one swift move he reached into his jacket, drew out a pistol, stuck it under his chin and sent his brains flying out of the top of his head, all across the wall behind him.