They were a retrieval service; returning lost and stolen items to their rightful owners. He still worried that they would attract the wrong clients, which is why he didn’t accept it in the first place, but that was not what the man represented at all.
If Edgar was any indication of the type of clients who would seek their services, Rook didn’t mind it. It was staying out of trouble as his uncle wanted and also not risking their lives in any dangerous way. Still, Rook was cautious.
Rook sat in the booth, then Bishop, who cleared his throat and interlocked his fingers.
“So, Mister Killshaw, I see you have one of our cards, what led you to us?” Bishop asked.
“I was leaving a lunch with a few associates and found your card on the ground. I thought maybe you two could help my client with a situation.”
“Situation, you say?” Rook blurted, after noticing Bishop’s face turning red and forcing a smile. He nudged Bishop’s knee with his own, a silent gesture to calm down. “What kind of situation do you have that would require our services?”
“Well, from your tagline, I assume you two are warlocks? Or do you prefer mages? Nowadays I don’t know what to call you.”
“Either is fine,” said Rook.
“I’m afraid this job will require your special skills—is he all right?”
Rook and Edgar both turned to Bishop, his eyes were glossy. He shook his head and was teetering.
“Bishop, are you okay?” Rook asked.
“I’m feeling—” Bishop rose from the booth, clutching his stomach. “I shouldn’t have eaten all those brownies—if you’ll excuse me!”
Bishop bolted around the booth and up the stairs as Rook and Edgar watched him.
What the hell has gotten into you, Bishop?
Rook turned back to Edgar and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about that, Edgar, as you can see; my partner is feeling under the weather at the moment. What were you saying?”
“We can wait until he comes back if we need to?”
“No, that’s all right, I can help you. I can tell him about it later,” Rook insisted.
“Okay, well this job will have a substantial reward upon completion. The client I work for is a very wealthy and influential individual. And a man like that has many enemies. One of whom stole something that belonged to him. Retrieve the item and deliver it to me.”
“What is this item?”
“I am not at liberty to discuss that. What I can tell you is that it is secured by magic, which is the reason your services are preferred over others. We already have a man on the inside that will assist you if you accept the job.”
Rook raised an eyebrow. “How do I know what I’m looking for if I don’t know what it is?”
“The case that holds the item is a black rectangular-shaped and only a foot wide with a five-symbol locking mechanism on the front.”
“Okay, so it’s secured by magic? How valuable is the item?”
“It’s a family heirloom that belongs to my client and he will pay any price to have it returned to him.”
Rook leaned back and pondered the offer. This was a good opportunity for them. They would only return an item to its rightful owner. No matter how he looked at it, it was stealing, but the fact that Edgar’s client will pay anything to have it returned intrigued him. He didn’t care about money.
Rook only wanted one thing, and that was to find his sister and Edgar’s client had the resources to do so if he was willing to pay an untold amount for this family heirloom. Bishop wouldn’t mind, it was he who promised to help Rook find her. But it was too good to be true.
“I’m sorry, but the answer is no.” Rook answered.
Edgar raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No. The job is too vague. You won’t tell me what I’m looking for, potentially risking our lives. I’m sorry, but I can’t just agree to do this without knowing what I’m retrieving.”
Edgar cleared his throat. “I understand. But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that won’t come around again. I only came here because I saw your business card by chance. If you wish not to take the job, then I shall have no trouble finding other warlocks or witches that will gladly accept. So, before I rescind this opportunity, let me ask you: what would it take for you to accept this job?”
Rook was surprised by Edgar’s approach. He’d never met a man as interested in their services as to ask him what they wanted in exchange for their services. Usually, the offer was a non-negotiable and flat rate, but not in this case and there was only one thing Rook wanted.
“I want your client’s help with a situation of my own.”
“Go on.”
“When I was nine, my sister and I were separated. There are no records of her adoption and I have been looking for her,” Rook explained. “That was ten years ago, and I don’t have the money or the resources to expand my search, but your client does. So, how does fifty-thousand dollars sound? You asked me what I wanted. Fifty-thousand should be enough for me to expand my search for her.”
Edgar smiled before exhaling. “I see. Fifty-thousand is too much for a job like this.”
“You said it yourself, Mister Killshaw, your client will pay anything to have this family heirloom returned to him. I figure helping a guy find his lost sister wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility, given his willingness to pay a substantial amount of money for it.”
“Fifty-thousand is out of the question. But, my client has various businesses and organizations around the world and finding your sister isn’t out of the realm of possibility; if you complete the job, we will help you find your sister. Is that agreeable?”
Rook sat without a word for several seconds considering the possibilities. He preferred the money to do it himself, because he didn’t trust Edgar fully, but if what he said was true; it could be just the solution he was hoping for.
“We have a deal.”
Edgar reached across the table and shook Rook’s hand. He opened the black bag he carried and retrieved a file from inside and placed on the table.
“The information you need is in that file. Once you’ve completed the mission, you can contact me and I will come back to retrieve the case. Only then will we begin the search for your sister.”
Rook rose from his seat and Edgar did the same. “Thank you, Mister Killshaw; I look forward to speaking with you soon.”
“Likewise, Rook,” Edgar spun on his heel and walked out of the door.
Rook sat in the booth and sighed. This was the opportunity he was looking for and it was all thanks to Bishop and his business cards. Maybe Bishop was on to something or maybe it was dumb luck.
The thought of seeing his sister, after ten long years, filled his heart with so much excitement, he could barely contain himself. He wore a confident and relieved grin as he opened the file. Now all he had to do was figure out how he and Bishop would complete the job.
3
Rathbone Estate
After several hours of scouring through the files Edgar left him, Rook became exhausted. Edgar and his client did their homework. Every minute detail. The item in the home of a man named Magnus Rathbone, a wealthy entrepreneur with no wife or children that owned several Fortune 500 businesses around the world.
He lived in Crescent Hill several hours away from the Blue Moon Café. It was an area populated by the rich, with an estate the size of a city block. His daily, weekly and monthly routines, his businesses, extended family and security details were all within the file. Rook had a hard time keeping a note of everything, focusing on the most important details.
The Rathbone Estate was a massive one-hundred-acre palace. It held twenty rooms, almost as many bathrooms, a pool and a guest house. Surrounded by a large forest, the nearest neighbor was three miles away. Edgar’s files detailed a trail through the forest, which provided the perfect path to avoid the heat sensors and security cameras placed throughout it.
Edgar’s contact inside
the estate left a window open every night—a safe entry point into the estate. Every corner of the estate carried video surveillance cameras facing all directions, guarding the hallways, grounds and woods. To combat that, Rook decided using Bishop’s shroudnet would make it easier to avoid them and the armed security guards around the estate.
Things would be easier if Bishop was here to help him, but he never returned after excusing himself earlier in the day. Though, Rook assumed his plan would be to storm the estate, magic erupting and attacking anyone that would get in their way. It was an option, but in this case, the wrong one. Even if they attempted that route, the guards would overwhelm them and the result would end in their capture or deaths.
Rook rubbed his temple before deciding to find Bishop. Niles and Felix trained Harmony in the kitchen while he sat in the corner booth working on the job. He left the booth and the mess of papers on the tables behind. Walking through the diner and up the stairs, Rook came to a wooden door with posters of vintage bands and scantily clad women scattered over it. He tapped his knuckles on the door and waited.
There was no answer.
He knocked and waited once more. Again, Bishop didn’t respond. Impatient, Rook made what Bishop described as an unforgivable sin; he went into his bedroom without asking. Rook found Bishop asleep on a large chair in front of a flat television screen with a video game controller in his hand. The video game seemed to watch him sleep.
While he was downstairs for several hours trying to figure out how to execute their plan, Bishop was in his room playing video games. Rook shook his head and stormed towards him. It wasn’t surprising to find Bishop like this, but it was frustrating. Bishop was the one who wanted to do this in the first place, he even had business cards created and the first time they get a job, he leaves to go play video games? It summed up Bishop in a nutshell.
“Bishop, wake up!” Rook yelled, shaking his leg furiously. “We got the job, get up!”
Bishop remained still, snoring every now and again, sound asleep. It was a state in which Bishop referred to as a food coma. He’d eaten an entire tray of brownies without so much as stopping to offer anyone else a piece. He wondered how he could eat so much and be so thin having once watched him devour twenty tacos in a single sitting and still claimed he was hungry after.
Rook tried several more times to wake him, hitting him with a pillow, shouting his name loudly, but everything failed. Rook was in it alone, there was no way of waking Bishop up at this point and he wanted to get the job done as soon as possible.
He scanned the unkempt room until his gaze fell upon a glass case—no bigger than a shoebox, sitting on a shelf in the corner. For Emergency Use Only was written in black ink on a strip of white tape across it. Inside was what Bishop described as an emergency survival kit, but to Rook, it was an old fanny pack. It was an ugly red color, worn and tattered. What remained of the logo on its front had all but faded away.
Rook crept over to the case and retrieved it carefully. He half expected there to be an orange glow around it—signifying abjuration magic and a protection spell, but there wasn’t. It was simply a fanny pack in a clear case. Nothing special at all.
Rook didn’t know what Bishop kept inside, but he had nothing else to take besides the shroudnet that sat on his dresser. The shroudnet was created by Bishop and it allowed whoever wore it to become invisible for as long as they channeled their magic through it. After taking the fanny pack and shroudnet he hurried downstairs to the booth where the files overtook the table. He flipped over a piece of paper and scribbled a note to Bishop.
*********************
After several subway rides and a few buses, Rook arrived at the outer perimeter and surrounding woods of the Rathbone estate. He’d changed from his white long-sleeved shirt into a long-sleeved black shirt, black jeans, and boots. There was no way he was wearing the fanny-pack, so he tossed it over his shoulder.
Opening the map and instructions from the file, Rook tossed the shroudnet over himself and entered the woods, following the outlined path to the estate. He thought of several contingency plans in case the worst would happen, and they all involved him running away. It wasn’t the right head space to be in, but it was a daunting reality and he was trying his best to not think of the worst-case scenario.
It took nearly an hour to reach the grounds of the estate. By that time, the crescent moon was high and passing clouds took away the luminous glow of the stars. He crouched in the tree line and watched as armed guards walked around the mansion looking for signs of trouble.
Reaching into his back pocket, he placed a piece of cloth with a symbol drawn in black ink across it onto the ground, carefully lining it up under a thick tree branch. Guards roamed the grounds, wearing matching black suits and ties with white radio ear-buds connected to their ear from the radios on their waists.
From his position, he saw the opened window that Edgar Killshaw’s inside man left open for him. He briefly wondered why the inside man didn’t steal it himself, but those thoughts quickly faded when there was an opening in the guards’ sweep. A pair of security guards walked on the other side of the estate, allowing Rook to make a mad dash to the window, clearing it within a few seconds. Being a warlock and caster of magic had its perks; increased speed, durability, and strength.
The room was dark as he approached. Grabbing the window’s edge he pulled himself up and rolled inside before the security guards turned to make another sweep. He sat against the wall under the window, allowing them to pass before making his next move. Waiting until the sound of footsteps and distant radio chatter disappeared, he rose and realized that he was in a guest bedroom and from what he remembered; the item was in the master bedroom three floors up.
Removing the shroudnet, Rook opened the fanny pack. His eyes widened and his mouth opened. Looking closer, he scanned the contents of the pack.
A lighter, blue marker... candy, juice box... firecrackers? Why would he need those?
Rook sighed.
What is this an emergency kit for a ten-year-old? Typical Bishop… A whistle... matches… this is all useless!
Rook zipped the fanny pack up in a huff before tossing it over his shoulder once more. The sound of footsteps echoed outside the door caused him to hide behind it and stare through the crack into the hallway. Two women dressed in violet maidens uniforms walked in the hallway, passing by the room as they discussed new hair products they were using.
A tall and large man wearing a light gray suit holding a cellular phone to his ear and walking with a cane followed behind them at a distance, yelling to whoever was on the other end. Rook recognized who it was from the photo inside the file: Magnus Rathbone.
“I have no choice, Sophia! I can’t allow that arrogant pompous prick to get away with what he did. This goes beyond your feelings! He would do the same he did to Lyberia to you in a heartbeat and I won’t have that! Tell me I have your support…”
Magnus disappeared around a corner and his conversation with him. Rook didn’t pay attention to what he was saying; his only focus was not getting caught. When the coast was clear, he opened the door enough to get a better look at the hallway, being careful to avoid the cameras. He tossed the shroudnet back over him and exited the room, holding the map while staying alert. He passed by the women from before, being careful to hug the wall across from them, so they couldn’t sense his presence.
After careful maneuvering of the hallways and staircase, he finally made his way to the fourth floor. Following the map, he strode to a set of double doors. He turned and looked around. There was no way he could mask the door opening and shutting on camera, so he had to go for it and fast. Based on the information given to him, the item was in the room on a trophy mantel shelf that comprised of Magnus Rathbone’s most prized possessions. It was in a black rectangular case with a silver, five-combination lock.
Rook opened the door and entered swiftly, closing it just as quick. Directly across from him was the m
antel shelf, and the case lay upon it. His eyes beamed with joy as he had accomplished the job, without Bishop’s help. He walked toward the mantel shelf, careful to not make any noise when he heard muffled sounds. His heart raced as he stopped in his tracks. Turning to his right, Rook saw a man with panicked eyes in front of a large bed tied to a chair and his mouth taped.
He was an older man, with short, salt and pepper hair wearing a butler’s suit. Fear emitted in his eyes, catching Rook off guard. His suit was tattered and bruises marked his features, with a large gaping wound on his forehead stained with dry blood. Could the man see him? Impossible, but he witnessed the door opening then closing and it may have spooked him.
Whatever the man was there for, Rook didn’t want to stay any longer to find out why, but part of him couldn’t just leave the man there. He obviously needed help. Bishops words had he been there, entered his mind:
Leave him.
He couldn’t just leave the man there; it was obvious he needed help. At that moment, Rook realized that he needed Bishop seeing the man tied up startled him and he realized the situation was worse than he feared. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called his Bishop. Rook’s thoughts came to a stop when another voice spoke from behind him.
“There you are!”
Rook turned to see a man holding a gun and swinging its grip at him, knocking him off of his feet and throwing the shroudnet off of him. Several other men quickly picked him up and held his arms as the man approached.
How did they know I was here?
He turned to the man in the chair and a stone sunk into the pit of his stomach—that’s how. The man in the chair was Edgar Killshaw's, inside man. A short man dressed in a blue suit approached him.
“We were waiting for you to show up,” said the man, before delivering a painful punch to Rook’s stomach. “You can thank your partner Oscar over there. Take him to the basement. The boss wants them both downstairs,” he ordered.
Magecraft Page 3
