Divine Fraud

by Thomas Green

  He most likely beat my time as well. Fighting him would be pointless. I tied my hat’s strap under my jaw, and I jumped into the ventilation shaft.

  I spread my arms and legs to slow my descent with friction, save for my left hand with which I held the stolen statuette.

  Air blew from below as I half-fell, half-descended.

  The narrow shaft turned into a wider one. My fall sped up. A massive fan was spinning down beneath me. Well, fuck. I couldn’t reach any of the walls and even if I could, that wouldn’t help much.

  ‘Leaping to your death.’ Lucifer laughed into my mind. ‘Brilliant plan.’

  I hope this is your setup for telling me I’ve got wings I can use.

  ‘No, you do not.’

  How helpful. I pushed aether into my right palm. More than before, more than ever. I formed the globe and compressed the aether. Smaller, much smaller than I had ever made it and then I forced the aether to spin as fast as I could.

  I flipped mid-air and released the spell into the space beneath me. Aether exploded into the shaft. The fan shattered to tiny shards. The energy ricocheted from the floor and bounced upward. I spread my body wide. The blast crashed into me. My entire body screamed under the impact, but the counterforce slowed my fall. My eyes burned and face felt as if it would melt.

  The ground approached. I strengthened myself to the maximum and turned to fall on my legs. Boom echoed through the shaft and pain shot through me. I stood at the bottom of the shaft under where the fan had been, knees-deep in concrete.

  The blast I made thundered above me. I glanced at the statuette in my hand. Still intact. Excellent. After pulling out my legs, I headed toward the maintenance door at the side of the building.

  It was locked. I punched open the lock and crossed the short hallway. I exited into the maintenance room where I had destroyed the generators.

  Four technicians were ducking by the walls, shaking and staring at me with pale eyes.

  “Howdy.” I smiled and passed among them before they managed to say a word. I left the building and got into my car. The police cars were just arriving. Though they were having a hard time finding a place to park since a dozen black vans of Yakuza men were almost blocking the street.

  I packed the fox statuette into my backpack, mounted my steel steed, and started driving toward Queens. As I did, I called Konrad.

  He picked up right away. “What life-threatening injuries have you incurred this time?”

  Was I that predictable? Yes, but he didn’t have to rub it in my face. “I need you to write me a prescription, Doc.”

  He sighed. “For what?”

  My deadline for delivering the statuette to Lucielle was tomorrow at eight. Given that it was nine pm, I had eleven hours left to finish the job. If I didn’t manage to get myself out of it, of course. “I need something to keep me going for at least the next twelve hours, no matter how exhausted I’d normally be.”

  As I thought of the pills, my body remembered how much it was hurting and I almost hit a street pole. “Then I need the strongest painkillers that don’t hamper mental focus or muscle coordination.”

  And I also had to meet with Vivian. I gave her a promise that I likely had to live up to. Sure, I would try to negotiate, especially if I couldn’t find Evelyn by then. But I needed to cover the possibility that all else might fail. “And the strongest pro-erection supplements there exists.”

  The phone remained silent for half a minute.

  “Doc, you there?”

  “So… you’re planning a full night BDSM session and aren’t sure you’re young enough anymore?”

  That was one way to interpret the list. “I wish… Evelyn was kidnapped and I’m not having luck finding her.”

  “Oh.” Konrad took a swift moment of silence. “Meet me at my place.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.” I hung up.

  When I arrived at Konrad’s house in Queens, he already stood by the gate. His round glasses sat high up his curved nose, his mouth was sealed in a tight line and his gray coat fluttered in the wind. The house behind him was dark.

  I parked on the sidewalk, got out of the car, and tipped my hat to him. “Howdy.”

  He scowled and measured me with his cold gaze. His eyes stopped at my blood-sprinkled leg. “Thank you, but I have enough clients even without your monthly episodes of exsanguination.”

  “I’ve barely bled a drop.” I walked to him. “Got the prescriptions?”

  “Will you bleed later tonight?”

  I glowered at him. Transfusions took hours. “I don’t have the time for a transfusion. I need the pills, now, but I’ll be sure to visit you tomorrow to put me back together.” Probably.

  He reached behind the gate and raised a water bottle in his hand. “Drink this and you’ll get them.”

  “What’s that for?”

  “To make up for your future blood loss and to minimize the odds of you dying from the pills I’ve prescribed for you.”

  I shook my head and took the bottle. My body remembered it was thirsty. I emptied the half gallon water bottle into my throat in one go.

  He handed me a large, white pill. “Chew this.”

  I arched an eyebrow.

  “Sodium, to prevent hyponatremia from drinking too much water at once.”

  At least this pill tasted like strawberries.

  He started handing me the prescriptions. “An amphetamine-based stimulant. This will keep you going, but do not take more than three at once.”

  How did he know I’d take more than the standard dosage? I’ve become far too predictable. “Thanks.”

  “Corticosteroids-based painkiller.” He gave me another paper. “Not that it couldn’t cause nausea, but it’s unlikely given your constitution.”

  Unlikely didn’t sound like odds I’d normally take, but I was short on alternatives. I took the prescriptions.

  “This one will keep your genitalia functional for at least four hours and has a chance of not killing you in combination with the other pills.” He handed me the last prescription.

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Good luck, Mr. Johnson.” Konrad sighed and straightened. “If you survive this, see me tomorrow at my practice. I open at 6 a.m.”

  “Really, thanks.” I forced out a smile, got into the car and headed to the nearest twenty-four-seven pharmacy. Drugs weren’t my first tool of choice, hell, not even the second to last one. But I was running out of possible suspects and the upcoming ones were trouble.

  Or well, mostly trouble.

  After I bought the drugs, I took three of pills of the stimulants in one go and called Agent Miller.

  He picked up almost instantly. “Frederick Miller.”

  “I’ve got a career-making hit for you, Agent.”

  He took a while to answer. Slow, country music played behind him. “Suppose I’d be interested. What is it?”

  “Give me an address to meet as soon as possible. My phone might be bugged.” Well, technically speaking, my phone was bugged by Lucielle’s people, though it wasn’t exactly a problem since I was currently working for her. But I needed an excuse to meet him face to face.

  He told me an address of a cafe in Queens.

  I had two reasons for this meeting. First, I needed to investigate if he knew about Evelyn. Second, the Yakuza was bound to hunt me for what I’ve done to their boss. To spend the rest of my life hiding was not an option and I wasn’t convinced they didn’t have Evelyn.

  The remaining parties—Sora and the FBSI—simply lacked motives. If the Yakuza had Evelyn, then she would be locked up in the safe and Sasaki didn’t use her against me yet because maybe they didn’t know who they had. Yes, there was the option they took her randomly and now I’d told them who she was.

  The safe presented their best spot to hide something and, as I had tested myself, had air ventilation sufficient to house a person and enough space to lock someone in. So, I started making a plan how to cripple the Yakuza to the point where they would be
unable to hunt me while, at the same time, I would get to see the safe.

  And that plan involved the FBSI.

  Anyway, I had to settle the last suspect too. I called Sora.

  He picked up, saying “Hai.”

  I assumed that to be a greeting. “Lucas here. Got something you’d die to hear. Which borough do you live in?”

  He took a few seconds to process the information. “Lower Manhattan.”

  “Guess I could use a burger. We meet at Black Tap one hour from now.” I hung up.

  Two pieces set into motion, one remained. I called Kenji from the statuette thieves.

  Silence answered me after he picked up.

  I spoke anyway. “Got a hit on Yakuza HQ at 2300. I’ll text you the address.” I hung up. And sent him the street name. There was nothing I needed to arrange with them. They were bound to show up even if it was only Kenji.

  Time for the fourth call. I licked my lips, wiped the sweat off my palms, and dialed Vivian’s number.

  She picked up the phone instantly, which was never a good sign. “What a coincidence. I have just been thinking about you.”

  The voice was low and melodic, like a requiem. Experience has taught me that this voice meant she was about to do something evil. “Hi, Vivi, sorry, but I’m not sure I’ll make it tonight.”

  “Oh… I am afraid that wouldn’t do. You made a promise, so you need to arrive at my place today.”

  I started sweating a lot stronger. “Is it really that much of a problem if I come at, say, 2 a.m.?”

  “Lucas, darling, that is not how this works. Yes, it would be a problem because I would be sad and lonely when waiting for you.” She took a swift pause and when she spoke, her voice became even lower and intonation slower. “For every minute you make me wait after midnight, I will kill one random person. On top of that, for every fifteen minutes, I will murder someone you know and like. Be on time.” She hung up.

  Okay, that wasn’t too bad. I pocketed my phone. Sure, I had to go see her but it also gave me time until midnight. I drove to the coffee place in Queens where I arranged the meeting with Agent Miller.

  Chapter 13

  I ARRIVED EARLY on purpose. The cafe had three tables and a tired barista behind the bar. All the tables were visible from the front through the large windows that faced the road with a T-shaped crossroad straight in front of the shop.

  Miller’s reasoning was clear. This way, he was bound to see I was present before stepping out of the car. I ordered a ristretto and waited.

  A black hatchback Ford soon came down the road with Miller behind the wheel and another man sitting on the seat next to him. He parked on the pavement. Miller stepped out, his suit clean and sharp, black tie perfectly arranged on the white shirt. As I observed his perfectly arranged hair and shortly trimmed beard, I realized he wasn’t a grunt. His perfectly kept look was clearly a part of distinguishing himself as a high-position agent, if an agent at all.

  He didn’t take the coat from the backseat and entered the cafe. He greeted me with a smile and sat across the table from me, ordering an espresso. “So, what do you have for me?”

  “First a question, Agent, if I may.” I sipped the coffee, enjoying the strong, bitter taste. “Have your organization been doing anything about this Yakuza problem?”

  He smiled. “Of course, we are, though details of our operations are highly classified.”

  “I got my eyes on some Yakuza internal reports. They contained many entries about their operatives mysteriously disappearing. Was that your doing?” This was a lie, but I needed to somehow question him about Evelyn.

  “I wish.” He formed a sour smile. “We almost never get authorization for anything more than clandestine observation from a safe distance.”

  “Spying.”

  “No, spying is too dramatic a word. Our operations are many things, but never dramatic.” He poured a generous amount of milk into the espresso, making me wonder why didn’t he order a Latte?

  “But I’ve heard of the government capturing suspects. Is there another organization that does such operations then?”

  “Not in the supernatural realm.” He drank from his coffee and ordered himself a chocolate cake. “And even in the mundane one, CIA operates mostly abroad.”

  If a lie hid among his words, I couldn’t find it. What he said made sense, put together a coherent narrative and fit what I have observed. “I’ve got the Yakuza safe,” I said, spinning the topic back to work matters. “The vault contains at least two tons of cocaine, possibly illegal banknotes of both dollars and yens. Maybe more.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How’d you know that?”

  “Because I was in there few days ago, helping them with security.” My coffee started running out. “The mage setting their defenses botched the job and the Dewin Institute sent me there to clean it up. Thanks to that, I also know that the safe isn’t magically defended.”

  “We still cannot force them to open it for us.”

  “I’ve got the entrance code. The system resets the code every midnight and it cannot be changed outside this procedure.”

  He slowly nodded. “Meaning we have to strike tonight before the code resets.”

  “The time would be 2300. I’ll be present, so will Agent Yamato of the PSIA. On the downside, the Yakuza has probably figured out that I’ve got the access code, so the safe will be defended.”

  Miller took a long pause to eat the cake and drink the coffee. I understood his hesitation. He had no proof the safe contained what I told him. On the other hand, busting a Yakuza safe full of cocaine would be a massive success for him.

  And for me, it would be the verification Evelyn wasn’t locked inside, where I still thought she could be.

  “Since the earlier operation was a success, I should be able to execute the strike. I’ll need you to give me the access code to the safe though, in case we reach it without you.”

  Fair enough. “Got an email?”

  “Frederick dot Miller at gov dot com.”

  Into the message, I put the code I remembered and the link to the Yakuza files on my ftp server. “I sent you a little bonus.”

  He drew his phone, unlocked with his pin and followed the link. His brows furrowed. “Is that… how did you get it?”

  “The Yakuza and I had a falling out, so to speak.” I flashed a grin. “They promised to hunt me down and kill me.”

  “But you don’t feel like letting them do so peacefully, hence you’re going to destroy them through a pre-emptive strike.”

  Pretty much. Okay, not at all since, technically speaking, I struck first by breaking into Gonnosuke’s apartment and threatening him. If this ever got to a Secret Societies’ court, I’d be screwed since I was now using against the Yakuza the knowledge obtained while working for them. That was another reason why I needed them to be stomped into the ground. One couldn’t get sued when there was no one left to fill the lawsuit.

  And even if they did, I could live with that for as long as Evelyn was safely back home in one piece.

  As I didn’t speak, Miller finished this cake. “Well then, we meet before 2300 in front of the Yakuza headquarters.” He rose. “The coffee’s on me.”

  He paid both our bills and left. I walked out of the café afterward. He did as well, got into his car, and drove away.

  Since his body naturally emitted aether like any other aether-wielder would, a trail remained behind him. On foot, I followed the direction from where he originally came.

  While the tracks were faint, they were clearly visible since they were less than an hour old. Yes, I gave him such a short notice meeting to ensure we would meet close to his home. I wasn’t done checking the FBSI for Evelyn.

  After fifteen minutes of walking, I saw his house, which featured a wide garden hidden behind a neatly painted fence. The lights inside the house were off. No surprise there since this was most likely his fake identity and his family was bound to live elsewhere.

  I fuelled my sight wit
h aether, enjoying the intoxication of power. After a bit of tweaking of the pattern, the electric cables shone to my eyes from beneath the ground.

  The house had two security cameras and the garage next to it had one, all aimed at the entrance. I put on my gloves, tied a scarf around the bottom half of my face and glanced at the neighboring houses. Those had security cameras only on the door, but light shone in the windows. The house left of Miller’s place had a natural fence. That’d be annoying, but luckily, the one to the right had a plain, metal fence to separate the gardens.

  I vaulted over the neighbor’s fence, sneaked through the dark shadows of the garden and leapt across to Miller’s place. I was now behind the garage, watching the ground in front of my feet.

  He wouldn’t have mines here, most likely. But still, he was a senior FBSI operative, so I gave this due caution and proceeded carefully. The house behind Miller’s was dark from this side, so I was out of sight of everyone.

  With my magical sight, I verified the security system was indeed installed on Miller’s ground-floor windows. I glanced up and saw no such system on the higher floors.

  Did I care about him knowing his place was searched? No, I could deal with that after I found Evelyn. I caught the lightning conductor and climbed up to the level of the second floor. My muscles complained but didn’t dare to disobey. Above the ground, I wiped my boots on the house wall so I wouldn’t leave tracks inside. Once I was up, I took a few steadying breaths, filled my body with aether, braced my legs against the wall and leapt sideways.

  I grabbed the edge of the roof, sprung my body in countermovement and steadied, hanging down. I coiled my body to make myself swing. Front, back, front, back, and front, kicking the window with both legs while letting go of the roof. I flew into his house, glass shards scattering around me.

  The bedroom featured a double bed, night tables and wardrobes. The wardrobes contained dresses, suits, jackets and various pants. A lot of detail for a fake identity. The table had a framed picture, young Miller, a blonde woman, and two children. Most likely the family his fake identity was said to have had.