THE RISK OF LOVE AND MAGIC

by Patricia Rice

  “Best if you do. I’m thinking of leaving the Taurus here and finding a rental with our new IDs.” He climbed out and opened the door for her. “And if you’re a Malcolm, you’ll be welcome with the women. It’s the Oswins you’ll have to persuade. We don’t want a walking target anywhere near family.”

  That would be her. Nadine followed him to the shop, feeling more lonely than she’d ever felt in an already solitary life.

  Six

  Magnus shoved his new ID and credit cards into his pocket, picked up the computer Conan had left for him, and watched the four-eyed female wander the surf shop, fingering fabrics.

  She needed clothes. So did he. Bright pink tank tops with Hoby written on them were not his favorite fashion, but they’d blend in here on the coast. Echoing his distaste, she rejected all the spandex but accepted the sunglasses he bought for her without even checking how they looked in a mirror.

  He took her elbow and steered her down the street in search of a thrift store. This was Santa Monica. There might be thrift stores somewhere, but not near the beach. He located a boutique and led her in.

  “Find a dress. We’ll shop later.” He pointed at a rack of colorful sundresses.

  She eyed the flirty-hemmed florals, glanced at him in disbelief, and made her way to the back of the store. There she rummaged through shelves with her nose turned up in distaste. Eventually, she produced a skinny blue sleeveless shirt with a collar and a pair of cut-offs with rhinestone-encrusted pockets. And a pair of flip-flops with big flowers on them.

  “I need underwear,” she told him, dropping her stack on the counter. “But let’s hit the computer first.”

  She ignored the pretty shiny things adorning the counter and shook her head at the offer of a scarf to match the shirt. Magnus didn’t have a lot of experience with buying clothes for women, but her complete disinterest in the pricey boutique surprised him. He’d thought women lived to shop.

  He’d been expecting enthusiasm and praise for his generous offer, he realized. Stupid of him. Nadine obviously had different priorities.

  Intrigued despite himself, he led the way to a quiet bench overlooking the ocean. Nadine seemed much more interested in the view than she had been in the boutique. Letting her pace back and forth, Magnus set up his phone and hot spot, and booked a rental car at the nearest outlet. Then he held out the laptop to his companion. “I’m calling a taxi. You have until it arrives.”

  Still wearing the army jacket against the early morning breeze, she flashed him the delighted smile he’d expected earlier, settled onto the bench, donned her black-framed glasses, and went to work with the proficiency of a well-programmed robot.

  The faster she worked, the more she frowned.

  Busy with his phone, Magnus didn’t disturb her. When the taxi arrived, he grabbed her elbow and towed her away while she continued to type with one hand.

  “You have officially lost your right to call me obsessive,” he declared after giving the driver the rental office address. “ADD much?”

  She offered an inelegant snort, checked the bars on his Wi-Fi, and shut the laptop. “They need a diagnosis of TMA, Too Much Attention. Vera hasn’t touched her social media in a week. She’s not responding to my IMs. Mail to her box is bouncing. She’s gone off the radar.”

  She spoke in a neutral voice that Magnus interpreted as trained to hide her fear. The damned general had turned her into the perfect military machine.

  “I don’t suppose it’s too much to hope that she’s another computer genius and that you can reach her by some mysterious internet connection?”

  Nadine shrugged. Despite the army jacket, he caught the movement. The army green made her long orange hair stand out even more. He wanted to stroke a curl to see if it was as soft and springy as it looked.

  “Vera knows what I’ve taught her,” Nadine replied, not noticing his fascination, “but no, she’s no expert. She hates technology. She’s a people person—and that’s what scares me.”

  “You think she made friends with the wrong person—one of the general’s minions maybe?” Magnus hated the twisting pain in his gut at the realization that he might not only have to bring down an old man, but find a young girl.

  “It’s a rough world out here. The wrong person doesn’t have to be a minion,” Nadine said sadly. “Don’t get me wrong. Vera isn’t stupid. Once she realized the level of our stepfather’s paranoia, she agreed to run when I told her. That was back when I could sneak in and use the office computers. She chose a college. We bought her a new identity and got her signed up.”

  “So much for avoiding illegality,” he pointed out.

  “Everything I do is illegal as far as I’m aware. I thought I had government clearance, but I didn’t, so why bother now?” She glared out the taxi window.

  “Back to Vera…”

  Nadine took a deep breath and continued. “She stole away without the general even realizing she was unhappy. She’s a great actress. She’s totally squeamish, but she even removed the microchip and hid her trail after she left. The general screamed bloody murder and sent his sons all over creation hunting for her, but until now, she’s successfully eluded them. I should have made her go back East, but I didn’t want her that far away,” she said with a hint of gloom.

  “Besides, for an actress, the best film and theater experience is in L.A.” Magnus rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to imagine two young girls outsmarting a military-trained general with an army of minions at his command. It didn’t compute well, but he’d seen Nadine in action. The general might have a point—her brain was a formidable weapon even if the rest of her was dandelion fluff.

  He rented a white sedan indistinguishable from any others on the road. Not knowing how long they’d be living on credit cards, he was hesitant to stay in pricey ocean inns, but Nadine’s internet voodoo produced a B&B near San Diego that wasn’t too exorbitant. He used the credit card and an ATM at the car rental office to collect cash so their path wouldn’t be obvious if the card was discovered.

  “Could you teach me to drive?” Nadine asked some hours later, as they traversed the freeway past the marine base.

  “I doubt we’ll have time, and you need a permit to drive on public roads. Even if you had escaped with ID, you wouldn’t want your permit application popping up on the general’s radar.”

  He could almost hear the disappointment in her silence. He felt like he’d kicked a cat. She was only a means to an end, and he shouldn’t care, but . . . She was a naïve twenty-three and she’d helped others instead of herself. He’d have to keep in mind that she wasn’t a tool to be used.

  While Magnus arranged for a balcony view room at the B&B, Nadine hid under her hat, jacket, and sunglasses.

  Ocean Beach wasn’t particularly picturesque, but it was cheap. Taking a chance that she wouldn’t run this time, Magnus left Nadine in their room, under the surveillance of the pink toy. She had her ugly glasses on again, and was intently pounding away at the laptop.

  He drove into town to buy another computer for his own use and called Conan while he was out. “Her sister’s dropped off the map. Found anything?”

  “Birth certificates. Their father is a Malcolm but isn’t on my genealogy chart. I found his military record. Their mother actually traces back to the Oswin/Ives line. She was a bio-scientist who went in for teaching instead of the big bucks. Find the name Vera was registered under, and I’ll search school records. No one has reported any missing students. I’ll work through her housing unit and classes, look for people who know her.”

  “Thanks.” Magnus gave him the alias he’d pried out of Nadine earlier. “Nadine’s good at hiding her feelings, but she’s really worried. It’s hard to make her focus on the general with her sister missing.”

  “Do we call in Dorrie’s family yet?”

  “I’ll ask. She doesn’t like talking about the general. I’ll keep you updated. Cloud account the same?”

  “Yeah, I’ll move it again tomorrow and let
you know where. Note this password and ID.”

  Magnus memorized the information rather than write it down. Assured now that they could exchange information without being traced, Magnus returned to the B&B. Nadine had propped herself on the balcony and draped a towel over her head and the laptop screen so she could read through the sun’s glare. Surf crashed on the rocks below. Her fascination with the ocean was presumably the reason she was out here.

  “Any progress?” he asked, setting a fast-food lunch on the table.

  “I think I’ve tracked Vera’s computer. Whoever was using it shut down before I could send a message. Not certain if that was accidental or if they’re shutting me out.” She removed the towel and grabbed the large soft drink, half draining it.

  “You said something about access to funds. Where are they and can Vera— or whoever has her computer— empty them?” Magnus opened the paper around his burger and studied her expression, but she revealed nothing.

  “Vera wouldn’t bother the funds unless she thought the general was about to find them.” She returned the towel to her head, apparently disapproving of the direction of his thoughts. She typed rapidly and continued, “The funds are untouched. If you give me an account number, I can have money transferred to cover my expenses.”

  Nadine wasn’t completely a helpless victim then.

  “I’ll ask Conan to set up something,” he replied. “I’m a mechanic, remember? Give me a car or a helicopter, and I’ll fix whatever you want. Banks and computers aren’t my thing.” He ate contentedly, not caring if she thought him a beefwit. In one of her downswings, Diane had dubbed him with that epithet. He’d learned his lesson about dealing with crazy women.

  “A do-er, got it,” she said with her usual shrug, “but still a thinker or we’d not have made it this far. So don’t give me the dumb jock baloney.”

  While Magnus studied on that interesting remark, Nadine typed some more, then uttered a triumphant cry. “She used the credit card for groceries in Hemet. Why would anyone in their right minds go to Hemet?”

  “Maybe she joined a motorcycle gang.” Magnus finished his hamburger waiting for her to reach the obvious conclusion.

  “Or someone stole her card,” she finally said, her mood deflating as she threw off the towel, took off her glasses, and reached for her drink. “Damn.”

  “Or she gave the card to someone in hopes of leading anyone tracking her in the wrong direction.” Magnus doubted that suggestion, but for some idiot reason, he hated seeing that brief flash of triumph disappear. “Conan wants to ask Dorrie’s family to help us. They’ll ask nosy questions, but they might be helpful. Is that okay?”

  “Keep them away from the general,” she responded without looking up. “He thinks they’re responsible for Po-po’s death, and he hates them with a passion. I think if he could find someone strong enough to breach their defenses, he’d kill them all.”

  After that dire warning, the Librarian ate in grim silence, frying her pale white nose under the bright California sun. Magnus grabbed her sunhat and plopped it on her head. “Redheads crisp out here.”

  She’d donned her new shirt and shorts so her shrug was more expressive. “Sunburn is the least of my worries.”

  “You said you’d let me into the general’s files,” he reminded her, setting up his new laptop now that he’d finished lunch. “If he’s got Vera, would that information show up anywhere?”

  “His files are compiled by minions. Anything recent would be in there only if someone computer-oriented added it. If they know computers and have an ounce of sense, they’ve moved the files to someplace I won’t know. Jo-jo is more into personal intimidation than keyboards.”

  “Jo-jo?” Magnus turned his laptop around so she could show him where to search.

  “General Joseph Adams. We used to call him Jo-jo when we were kids. My mother could never remember names and was always making up nonsense names that stuck in her head better. She may have grown tired of hearing of the saintly Po-po and called him Jo-jo just to irritate him.”

  “Like you call me Magnus Maximus?”

  “Yeah, to irritate you.” She shot him a beaming smile then darted back under her towel again.

  “Because that’s how you remember names,” he corrected. He poked through her computer while she worked on his, but she’d erased her history already. He should introduce her to Homeland Security. They could use a few geniuses, although they probably already had enough paranoids.

  “I’m giving Conan this credit card info,” Magnus warned her. “He has trained detectives who can trace it and question the businesses where it’s used.”

  “I won’t close the card account yet,” she agreed. “I can get into the Malcolm genealogy website, but it looks like Jo-jo has found another computer guru this past year. The files haven’t been touched since I left. They’re sending new ones to a different server. I can access the archives if you want to read them, but there’s no hint of what’s happening now. So far, I haven’t been able to locate any of his new network servers.”

  She shoved his laptop across the table and retrieved her own. Magnus was aware of her gaze falling on him as he plugged away at the keyboard. He didn’t know what she expected him to do or say.

  He managed a “thanks,” before returning to typing.

  “You’re sending those links and passwords to Conan and not reading the material yourself, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “He has software that processes keywords,” Magnus said, unoffended by her inference that he was a stupid slacker. “I’ll scan your index for relevance, but you’ve just said the files won’t tell me anything. I respect your intelligence, so why should I duplicate your effort? Conan will send me addresses, habits, any connections he can find in these documents. If we need power and influence to smoke out the general, we call Oz. That’s how our family works.”

  “You’d rather grab an assault rifle and go after him, wouldn’t you?” she asked, returning to typing. “Good thing your brothers can keep you out of trouble.”

  Magnus snorted but didn’t bother contradicting her. He’d tried to flatten the general’s guard hut with a helicopter, then held one of his grandsons like a punching bag so Bo could beat the crap out of him. Both his brothers and their significant others had stood back and watched.

  Not wanting to pull the geeky towel trick, he took his phone inside where he could read the screen. Moments later, a noise from the balcony jerked his head around.

  Nadine was squeezing the pink toy and shaking violently, giving every appearance of a woman having an epileptic seizure.

  He almost had a heart attack watching her spasm uncontrollably. Magnus dropped the phone, dashed out, and lifted her from the chair before she could topple. Holding her against his chest, he headed for the bed.

  She stopped trembling. In seconds, he had a struggling, panicked female in his arms, swatting him as hard as she could.

  Even in his struggle to hold her, he noticed she hid real breasts under her loose clothing. And no armored bra.

  “Don’t do that,” she said, whacking his biceps with a little more control now that she’d returned to coherency.

  Assuming she wasn’t reading his mind and telling him to stop noticing her breasts—he lowered her feet to the floor. Apparently he found insanity attractive, because he didn’t mind checking her out. She was a nice armful.

  He continued to steady her while she found her balance. “You’re really white,” he informed her with concern.

  “As if I’d seen a ghost, right. I get that a lot.” She stepped from his hold and placed a hand on the table to steady herself. “Just don’t startle me like that again.”

  “Can’t promise that,” he told her flatly. “Someone has a seizure, I’m trained to follow procedures.”

  “Not a seizure, not the kind you’re thinking anyway.” She sank back in a chair, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples. “I was seeing a schoolroom. Kids of different ages working in groups. I felt Vera. I did
n’t see her.”

  Magnus clenched his fingers into fists and tried to keep his voice below a bellow. “You were having a psychic episode?” He tried to disguise his disbelief.

  She shot him a scathing look. “I’ve transferred some of my funds to the identity I created for myself when we set up Vera’s alias. A credit card will be overnighted here. I’ll be out of your hair then. I appreciate that you came looking for me, even if it was the puzzle that interested you, not me.”

  She walked out of their shared suite, slamming the door behind her.

  Seven

  Torn between collapsing on the bed and crying, and slamming out of the room, Nadine chose the latter. One fit a day was sufficient. She would not let the oaf know how his cold disbelief hurt, not when she was in this fragile state. Real visions left her physically weak and emotionally vulnerable, and she just wasn’t going there.

  She wiped away an angry tear and stomped down the stairs.

  She could walk to the beach and dip her toes in the surf. That might be the only thing the general couldn’t track her doing. Unless, of course, the beach had security cameras aimed at satellites, and Jo-jo’s new guru was as good as she was.

  Counting on a lack of surveillance equipment, she donned her new sunglasses and hid her hair under her hat.

  Not acknowledging the landlady’s greeting, Nadine stomped down a path of feathery greenery and brilliant bougainvillea. She was almost running by the time she reached the street. She turned in the direction of the surf and hunted for a way down to the water. The rocky bluff didn’t look promising.

  While she walked, she tried to recall every detail of her vision, but it was like recalling a dream. Bits stayed with her—like Vera’s fear. But the rest . . . Cursing, she walked faster.

  Magnus caught up with her before she found a way down to the water. He grabbed her arm and steered her toward an alley.

  “Beach access,” he told her before she could shake him off.

  He was bigger than the general and far more muscular to have swept her off her feet so easily. At five-five and with too many extra pounds, she wasn’t exactly a lightweight. He ought to be physically intimidating, but in Mad Max’s presence, she only felt safe, as if she had a giant jock bodyguard.