The War Gate

by Chris Stevenson

  I wish you all my heartfelt love, Avy. I’ve carried you and loved you from the moment you were conceived. You might think that your birth was a mistake. But I want you to know that you were never a mistake. Great things await you, my love. I feel these things because a mother’s bond is forever. We’ll be together again. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for not being there for you, especially in the times that you needed someone when you suffered or felt pain. Trust me when I say that I’m with you now and will never leave.

  I won’t say goodbye. I will say hello, Avy. God bless and keep you.

  Love,

  Mom

  Bitter tears plopped onto the aged paper. Avy let them run, feeling no shame with the display. She folded the letter to place it between the diary pages. She did not cry because she had sympathy for her mother. She never knew her. She cried because she didn’t understand her, felt sorry for her. Her mother spoke of confusion and memory loss, when she might have confessed to her crime, facing the issue like a noble, honest person. It also became obvious that her mother might have suffered from mental problems. To have even contemplated executing her in such a condition was the real crime. She knew that her mother had died giving birth to her. Avy, in an indirect sort of way, had been responsible for her mother’s passing. Had it been a mercy killing? she wondered. Her mother’s life had been sad. A pathetic series of delusions. Still, she couldn’t blame her. Avy hoped her mother had attained peace when the end came.

  “Now you’ve smeared your mascara,” she said to herself. She went to the small bathroom to shampoo her hair and freshen up. After pinning her hair back, she chose a white cotton jumper. Except for a little red in the eyes, her appearance in the mirror looked passable. She didn’t have an appointment, but she hoped to catch Sebastian Norman at the Stadium Theater so she could snag that position before it was filled. The Amazing Sebastian. She had to smile.

  Minutes later, she found herself cruising Hillsborough Street, craning her neck to locate the theater. She found a three-story brick building with a giant wedge-shaped marquis. No mistaking the 1940’s structure for an old movie house, or the name plastered across the front of it. She parked in front, tried the double glass doors, but they were locked. She followed an alley that led to the rear parking lot. She pressed a service buzzer next to a thick metal door. Looking around, she could see two cars sat in the rear lot. She hoped one of them belonged to Sebastian.

  She hadn’t any real expectations about what a magician looked like, but the man who answered the door turned out to be very handsome and sporting a muscular frame. He was rather short, his black hair cropped in a high crew cut. His eyes were light brown; in his left ear he wore a diamond stud. His voice resounded an octave lower than she would have expected.

  “I’m afraid there’s no show tonight,” he said. “Friday, six to eight, eight-thirty to ten-thirty.”

  “I’m not here about the show,” said Avy, faltering. “Actually, I am here about the show, but not in a customer sense. Father Geminus gave me this.” She extended the business card. “He said you might be looking for an assistant. I hope the position is still open. My name is Avy. Oh, I’ve had some drama experience, ballet, some fencing, along with a side order of yoga.” A little humor couldn’t hurt.

  “How did he know I needed an assistant? Are you sure it was Janus Geminus?”

  “Yes, he was a priest named Janus.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Well, that explains it.”

  Explained what? she wondered.

  He gave her a quick head to toe once-over, but his gaze came to rest on her hips. She felt a bit uneasy under the lingering stare.

  He met her eyes again. “You’re about the right size. You sure look healthy. The costume should fit. Glad to meet you. I’m Sebastian Norman.” He shook her hand with energetic pumps. “There’s nothing amazing about me so feel free to disregard the sign out front.” He gave her a pert bow, then with the wave of his hand produced a purple rose. She took the flower as she stepped inside.

  The back of the theater was a storehouse packed with colorful props, engines, and mechanical devices. A large workbench took up the left wall. On it sat an array of various hand tools, paint cans, and spools of wire. A cot sat in the middle of the floor with a wool blanket folded in half over it. At the end of the long bunker-like room were larger boxes, coffin-like structures, painted cutouts, all manner of plastic toys and contraptions. Six manikins hung from the ceiling via wires, their glass eyes staring in mute repose. Half circus, half menagerie, the place looked fun in a festive sort of way, but cluttered enough to make walking hazardous.

  Sebastian snapped a folding chair open, setting it before her. He jumped backward to land butt first on a counter top. His agility did not go without her notice.

  He waved his arm, indicating the interior floor space. “Don’t hold it against me. My mind is more organized than the digs. But I call it home, until the building inspectors come knockin’ with a code violation.” He sneezed, throwing his hands up to cover his face. In the next moment, he let a fountain of dimes fall from his palms onto the floor. “I hate it when that happens,” he said.

  It was the perfect icebreaker.

  “That was wonderful,” said Avy, giving him an energetic clap and a wide smile. “So spontaneous. How long have you studied the magic arts?”

  “I started pulling disappearing acts when I was two. Now you see him, now you don’t kind of things. I got pretty good at removing my dad’s wallet from his pants while he was still in them. I had a habit of making my vegetables vanish, too. In reality, they were going to the dog under the table. By the time I was in sixth grade, I was bending cafeteria spoons or willing young girls skirts to rise, which landed me in the principal’s office. I also had a habit of disappearing while in the bathtub, which drove Mom nuts, but I was under the soap bubbles holding my breath.

  “Things got a little more intense in my senior year of high school. I removed about a dozen trouser belts during a sock hop dance once, which resulted in a few pairs of pants hitting the gymnasium floor. But I think it was the time I turned a lab frog into a white dove that got me suspended for two days. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that none of the students wanted to pitch dimes or play cards with me. That was because I cheated. The time came when Dad asked me to perform one last disappearing act. Long story short, I ended up here.”

  “Whoa, heavy.” Avy was impressed. “Sort of the James Dean of magical fantasy.”

  “You flatter the hell out of me. You’re hired, what can I say.” He tossed her something. She put her reflexes into play, catching it. It was her wristwatch.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t help myself. Mind if we make it Wednesday? That’ll give us another day before rehearsal.”

  “Today is Thursday.”

  “No, it’s Wednesday. Look at your watch.”

  She checked the date on the timepiece. It had been rolled back twenty-four hours. “How in the name of wizardry did you do that?”

  “Me no speaky. I win. Is that okay with you? Nice catch, by the way. You have good hand-eye coordination. You’ll need every bit of it.”

  “You’re the boss, Sebastian. I’m not going to argue with you. I might lose something else in the deal.”

  “Don’t give me any ideas. But you better check your buttons and snaps. Nooo, I’m just kidding.” He laughed heartily.

  They spoke about their pasts for over an hour. She told him about her thoughts about attending college, mentioning that she hadn’t decided on a major course of study yet. He admitted to leaving school before the tenth grade, but she found that he had an innate talent at reading people, like her, since he kept finishing her sentences. He showed a sincere interest in her words with little or no pandering. She confessed to keeping an up-to-date diary, recording life’s incidents, goals, and heartaches within it. He identified with her about how difficult it was to be tossed out of the house, showing surprise when she told him that today wa
s her first day on her own. He gave her a sad puppy dog look followed by a sweet smile. He joked about being much older than he looked. He admitted to being twenty-seven. She roared with laughter, then asked him if he needed a walker or a cane. He answered, “Sure, if it could be used as a prop.”

  She liked Sebastian. He threw up a smoke screen to make her feel less conscious about herself, using himself as the brunt of his humor. She found him laid back, easy to talk to. Meeting someone who could read her wavelength was like lifting a mountain from her shoulders. His empathy with the major disconnect from her household notwithstanding, she found herself warming to the male part of Sebastian, and she wondered if these feelings she was having had any profound meaning beyond friendship. Part of her found an instant acceptance with this man on a human level. Another part of her reeled with the realization that she might be dipping her toe into a pool of water that had a very deep end. She didn’t want to let the horse out of the gate just yet. There could be a lot more to his nature than just props. This ride was best left in cruise control.

  “I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit more about the job?” she asked. “Are there any special skills required?”

  “Besides dealing with me? That’s the easy part to get over. You know on game shows how the women move around the stage to demonstrate the products?”

  She nodded. “Kind of like display modeling.”

  “Okay, there’s a whole lot of that, plus the prop handling, with a little morphing in the mix. You’ll need some steady nerves if a thrown knife happens to fly in your direction. Nothing dangerous, it’s all rehearsed and choreographed. You’ll have to watch me when I hit my marks. My eyes will tell you what to do a lot of the time. You’ll learn the routine by rote. It’ll be easy. It’s a three-act structure per show. Six shows, three days running. A hundred bucks per show. Agreeable?”

  “That’s fine.” Although she felt like letting out a squeal, proclaiming it was stupendous. But this was a time for easy-does-it. She stood up. But when she glanced down to locate the rose he had given her, it was gone. When she looked back up, Sebastian was crossing the floor with the rose poked in a small flask of water. She took it, offering him a sly smile.

  He gave her another mock bow. “See you tomorrow then,” he said. “Avy, be careful on the ride home. Always remember to lock your doors at night.”

  He must have known something about the neighborhood she didn’t. Well, of course. He lived here.

  “Tomorrow it is then. Thanks for the tip—I always lock up.” She walked to the door to let herself out. It occurred to her when Sebastian had bowed, a Star of David emblem swung from his neck on a thin chain. It struck her as peculiar. Hadn’t the priest mentioned that Sebastian had once been a member of his parish? He could have converted to Judaism, she thought, but shook off the discrepancy. She was getting way too paranoid.

  Chapter 5

  “Yes, Lizzy,” said Drake into the receiver, scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Do you think that’s wise, dear? Okay, there’s no need to sound off about it. I’ll let you know if I’ve made a decision when I get home. Please go to the sauna or parlor to get some relaxation. Spend some money.” Drake hung up the phone, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He had another migraine barreling in his direction. He looked down at his desk, opened a manila folder, and began to read.

  At her desk across the room, Linda Wu tossed her hair, then shuffled some papers. “When am I going to get my own office? Whatever happened to that corner suite with a view that you promised me?”

  The muscles in Drake’s jaw twitched. “You’re annoying me right now. Can’t you see I’m reading this report? Anyway, you know I like you near my desk.”

  “I spend too much of my time under it. Besides that, a girl can’t get any privacy when she’s in the same room with somebody else. Secretaries are supposed to be stationed out in a lobby somewhere. This is not the way it’s supposed to happen. It really blows.”

  He looked at her in disgust, noticing that she had her hair frothed up again in that ridiculous cotton candy clump. She’d used a trowel to apply her makeup. Was there any wonder he kept her hidden away?

  “What would you do if I weren’t here?” he asked. “What do you mean by privacy? Honest to God, go to the bathroom if you have hygiene problems or need to fix yourself up. If you don’t like the arrangements, maybe you would prefer another company that pays you less than I do. Maybe somebody who hasn’t heard of medical plans or has no solid career advancement opportunities.”

  “Sometimes I think the real reason you keep me around is to toot your flute.”

  “That ought to be enough for you. You didn’t even graduate high school. That means you’re under-qualified for the position.” He blew out a sigh. “You’re standing very close to the edge right now.” He turned a page. “It’s a long fall without a parachute.”

  “Maybe I can fly, you never know.”

  “Shaddap! Show a little initiative for a change. Give me some news, any news. Look at your inbox. I mean the one on your desk, not the other one.”

  She snapped her gum, then brought a few pieces of mail to her face. “Well, our lawyer didn’t make the court appearance with Sony. They’re expecting us to respond with a reschedule date. IBM is threatening to sue us over a patent issue regarding that new hard drive we exhibited at the expo. What else? Oh, yeah, both partners are expecting their quarter profit shares. They’re wondering why we haven’t cut them a check yet. They sent us certified letters. I ducked their phone calls like you told me.” She sighed. “I’m surprised they haven’t shown up on your front steps. Especially your mother. Jesus, Drake, you should cut your parents some slack.”

  “You don’t have the math skills to know how much interest accumulates for that amount of capital over a quarter. I can always apologize, but I can’t always expect a bag of nickels like that. Hey, we pull it off once a year. After a couple of years it adds up. Nobody is getting hurt—It’s all part of our creative disbursement strategy.”

  “Yeah, but you could end up pissing them off. They have high profile lawyers.”

  “I’ll make it up to them. That reminds me. Buzz Auggie; tell him I want to see him. When he shows up, take lunch.”

  Drake watched her, making sure that she rang Auggie. He did have something very important to discuss with his security chief because Linda had just reminded him that a certain topic couldn’t wait.

  It didn’t take long for Auggie to appear, stumbling through the door. He was rotund and nearly bald. He was out of breath, but not from walking fast or running. The man had emphysema due to a three-pack-a-day smoking habit. When he spoke, his voice sounded like his throat was full of pine cones.

  Drake waited for Linda to leave before he motioned for Auggie to sit. Augustus Hollywood had been with Drake for sixteen years. Auggie’s security force wore matching black double-breasted suits over Forzieri dress oxfords. Each carried a two-inch thirty-eight in a shoulder holster. The Cyberflow workforce, who always got a kick out of them marching down the plant aisles while looking like penguins, had dubbed them the Hollywood mafia. High-tech wise guys in an unwise age. But Drake knew he could count on any one of them to see a job to completion, where sometimes strong-arm tactics were needed. The only thing that had changed over the years about his head of security was his declining health. His devotion had remained steadfast.

  Drake began with the basic pleasantries—the wife, kids, doctor visits, annoying in-laws, the current political arena. It was a ritual they went through every time they met—a warm-up, a prelude to the matter at hand. Drake stopped speaking to clear his throat. That was the signal for Auggie to check the door by cracking it open, assurance that no one stood within earshot of the room. Auggie did so, returned to his seat and gave a curt nod.

  Drake laced his hands. Then the delivery came. It could have been written by a presidential speechwriter and spoken by an announcer. His voice took on a low pitch.
Auggie pulled his chair closer to the desk.

  “It’s been brought to my attention, Auggie, that my parents, along with my daughter’s grandmother, have been inconvenienced again. Miss. Wu reminded me that I’ve been lax in my duty to get the checks out. This has happened in the past, I’m sure you know that. So, I was thinking it was about time I made up for these oversights with a presentation or gift. Something that might salve the wounds, ease the friction.”

  “If I’m reading you right, you mean some type of goodwill gesture to make up for all these goofs.”

  “You’re right on target, Auggie. I can’t think of anything more appropriate than a goodwill getaway vacation. You know, something the older folks are certain to enjoy or talk about until they’re renting real estate six feet under. Something worthy of postcards so they can bore their relatives. It should be something exotic. White sandy beaches, azure seas, gulls skiing in the clouds overhead—something like that. I’m thinking Bermuda.”

  “I can hear the grass skirts swishing now. I can even taste those rum runners with the little umbrellas.”

  “I think you’re talking about Hawaii, but you get the idea.”

  “They’re all tropical, boss.”

  “Fine, fine. Hold that thought. It also occurred to me that the commercial airlines can be a cluster-fuck affair, even if it’s first class. I mean, what makes such a flight special or exclusive, especially when it’s crowded? Shit, you have to pray for a window seat, wait in line for the head, then there’s the screaming kids. That could drive anybody to drink. You know how inflated the liquor cost is onboard a seven forty seven.”