by Lyndon Hardy
“I do not know anything about charms,” Emmertyn protested. “I already told you that.”
“In your own words then,” Briana said.
“It began some sixty years ago.” Emmertyn nodded. “I was starting out. But the big trader environment didn’t suit me. It was too rigorous, too constrained. Too many laws.”
He pressed his hands to his forehead and began kneading his brow. “Oh, the ache! I can feel it coming on already. I should not have stopped.”
“In your youth, you were not following the Noble Path, right?” Maurice asked gently. “I… we can relate to that.”
“Yes, I bounced from one firm to another, but for each one of them, I could not generate enough of a client base to survive. One by one, the few I did have abandoned me for others. I was headed for rock bottom and did not see how to avert becoming destitute. Alone in my apartment in a cold and hostile city, I started learning about eastern religions, looking for solace, a reason for being. On a lark, I drank some peyote tea before starting meditation hoping to find some new avenues, some new answers to my plight.”
Emmertyn stopped and smiled, as if he were overcome with a sudden feeling of peace. “It is hard to describe, really. I took the drug, tried to unlock my mind and then… and then, words started coming to me. Strange words, words with no meaning. Words not in any dictionary I could ever find. But I felt compelled to speak them aloud, to hear how they sounded when they were cast into the air.
“After a while, I don’t know how long, they stopped. And the strange thing was, as exotic and unfamiliar as they were, I somehow was able to remember them all. To prove that to myself, I recited them again, and then a third time to be absolutely sure.”
“Okay, you were on a trip. We get that,” Jake said. “And now you are going to tell us about the wonderful things you saw and felt.”
“Nothing strange and wonderful,” Emmertyn said. “On that first time, I remember… I remember looking at the clock.” He glanced down at his desk and pointed. “This very one. And even though the numbers were twisted like those painted by a debauched typographer, I saw the clock read a few minutes ahead. I knew because I had started my meditation precisely on the hour. The discipline helped me keep on track with my study every day.”
“Like the oldest of the sagas,” Briana said softly. “How the first charms were discovered by accident on Murdina. Sorcery. The craft is practiced here on earth after all!”
“I don’t know anything about sagas either,” Emmertyn shook his head. “It was the Jade Emperor, Shiva, Omoikane, and the others who led the way.” He stopped rubbing his head and looked at the trio, his eyes wide with wonder. “After a few minutes, the clock numerals blurred for a moment and then again became crisp and clear — sharp and glowing. I looked at my wristwatch, and they agreed. I could not quite believe what had happened. It was as if, as if…”
The broker’s face softened. “Don’t you see? The impossible had occurred. For a brief time, I could see a little bit… minutes into the future.”
The expression of rapture turned into a scowl. “And I had a headache that lasted for the rest of the morning.”
“‘Liberated mind is the greatest bliss,’“ Maurice said.
“Yes, I recognize Buddha’s words,” Emmertyn nodded. “But when the throbbing is at its peak, I sometimes wonder.”
“So you went on strange peyote trips,” Jake said. “Big deal. Others have had experiences even more bizarre.”
“Perhaps few others did so with the proper practice of meditation and a mind filled with the lore of not one religion but several,” Emmertyn said. “Each with but a piece of a greater truth.
“The next day,” the broker continued, “I repeated what I had done. Started at the same hour and took the same dose of the drug.”
He extended his index finger as if he were making an important point while lecturing. “Only this time other words came. None matched those of before. In a panic, I pushed them out of my thoughts. I wanted to repeat exactly what I uttered before. I discovered the original words were still in my memory, so I spoke them three times again. And again, the numbers on the clock seemed to change for a few minutes and then fade back to agree with my watch.
“What does resetting clocks have to do with the stock market?” Jake asked.
“Why everything!” Emmertyn replied. “Seeing into the future, even a little bit, is all that is needed to make a lot of money. I performed more experiments. First saying the words and then looking at the stock ticker on my monitor. I remembered a few of the trades scrolling past and then after the spell or whatever it is was over checked the ticker again.”
“Impossible!” Jake said. “Nobody can do that. No matter how high they get.”
“Nevertheless, for me it worked. I really did not require any clients, none. I disassociated from everyone who remained. My personal needs were few. I only traded for my own account and made each trade low enough to go by unnoticed. Gradually I accumulated enough capital to rent the small office here. As far as anybody could tell, I was a small-time broker, a modestly successful one, but no more.”
Emmertyn sighed again. “Things went along so smoothly that I must admit I became a little bored about how easy life had become. Even with my earthly needs satisfied, I still could not follow the Eightfold Path. None of my meditations gave me any hint about how to handle the ennui.
“Then one day, completely unsolicited, I received a letter from what I assumed to be a potential client with a request very unlike the others I occasionally would get. It was beguiling in its naïveté — perhaps a student’s school project, I thought at first. The sender asked if he could open an account. Only wanted to put the grand sum of one hundred dollars into it. My instructions were to invest it as I saw best, then liquidate everything at the end of one week’s time and wire the net proceeds back to him.
“I tried to explain the fees for buying and selling for such a small sum would eat up most of the profits and could dip into principal as well.”
“‘No matter,’ I was told as we communicated back and forth. It was part of a competition, an experiment testing how random the market was. The end measure would be the return on the investment compared to the change in the market average over the same period. The client stated he was starting with 128 smalltime brokers like myself picked at random from some directory. Had all of us make the same sort of trades.”
“This is getting boring,” Jake said. “He’s starting to sound like my old man.”
“Patience!” Briana snapped. “This is important. Let him finish. This client. Could it be? Have I guessed correctly? To escape and then thrive, the exiles needed wealth. And what better way to get it than in this practice of trading intangible things the humans called stocks. Trading quietly over many years.”
“There is little more to tell,” Emmertyn ignored her words. “The result of such an experiment should indeed be random. Over a one-week period, I would suppose an investment would outperform the market half of the time. But I was intrigued and did as I was asked. And because of what the near future told me, I was able to make a small profit, guaranteed.”
Emmertyn stopped for a moment like a storyteller preparing his audience for the climax. “But it did not end there. The next week there was another trial request and then a third one after that. And for these there were restrictions. I had to make new investments different from the ones before — different stocks, different sectors even.
“And of course, because of my advantage, I was able to produce a profit each and every time. Small to be sure, but consistent nevertheless. Finally, after seven trials, I received notice that I had won. But when it was over I realized I should not have even bothered with the contest from the very beginning — that I did not want the client to be bragging about what I could do. In exchange for serving as his broker in the markets — and for other business transactions as well — I had him swear to secrecy, which he was eager to do. I have provi
ded service for several decades since.”
“Who is he?” Briana asked with more urgency. “Where can I find him?”
Emmertyn open his mouth to speak again, but then immediately slammed it shut.
“I have told you enough,” Emmertyn said.
“Ah, the FBI, remember?” Jake said.
Emmertyn shook his head one final time. “You may have a case that I used information not available to the general public to guide my trades. But my client knows nothing of it.”
The broker’s jaws grew firm. “I do not care for what our interactions have turned into recently, but, nevertheless, for sixty years he has honored my request for confidentiality. I honor his.”
“This is so like the sagas,” Briana marveled. The quest never proceeds in a straight line. The heroine has to adapt, find a way to continue on the trail. She looked around the bare office. “If there is a new clue to follow, it might be here somewhere.”
Jake shook his head. This was so like her. Part of her allure, he guessed. Exotic ramblings making no sense whatsoever. But when one looked at her, there was no doubt she herself did fervently believe. Better to get her away before the broker finally demanded they show some IDs.
A Working Interface
THALING FINISHED adding the final control buttons to the tracker. The gremlin had taken longer than he had wanted to complete, what he called … the ‘interface’ to the keypad and digital displays. But now that work was done. Everything was physically connected. It was time to make everything perform magically.
He looked about his hidden alcove and smiled. The sprites stood ready, like toy soldiers arrayed for battle, their pens full of ink. The ritual was similar to the one before, but of course, not exactly the same. And once the protocol was completed, the augmented tracker would contain almost all of the additional functionality needed. The clock was the countdown mechanism; the keypad and displays, the destination selections.
Thaling felt a burst of pride about what he was doing. He was no mere plodding magician, but one of the first rank. He smiled at the discipline of the sprites anxiously awaiting his commands. After this step, he would have constructed another setter — another controller for the portal. He would be able to command where the doors opened upon throughout the universe — and when the movements should take place. He, not Angus or Dinton, will have provided the means for the escape from confinement — the means for the return to home and revenge.
There was, of course, one detail remaining to take care of. He had begun the calculations, but they were complex, not easily derived from only a few days contemplation. He had to make sure that when he instructed the portal with what he had built, there would be no interference. Commands from the other setter blocked out, completely ignored. Otherwise, if both were instructing at the same time, who knew what could happen.
Yes, it would take a while to derive the final ritual, but it was the course of prudence. He expanded his lungs with what the natives would call tainted air. Thoughts of his mate, Alika, danced in his mind.
Discovery
JAKE HURRIED back down the corridor clutching the purchases. Emmertyn had been quite brusque when he had finished his tale, ushered everyone out of his office, and shut the door.
At that point, Jake had been ready to leave. That was that. A second deed accomplished, and now he should be able to collect his reward. But, damn it, no! Briana’s quest was not complete. She was insistent. She had to contact Emmertyn’s client; she had to.
He shook his head. Briana’s behavior in the broker’s office was a side of her he had not seen before. More like a DA grilling a witness than playing hard to get. Despite the frustration, he found himself smiling. Shangri-La!. In the end, this one was going to be oh so sweet.
Jake tested the door to Emmertyn’s anteroom, and, as he expected, it was now locked. He knocked loudly and waited. In a few moments, it opened, and Maurice ushered him in.
“What took you so long?” Briana asked.
“Gimme a break!” Jake said. “I am not familiar with the city. The cabbies knew it and racked up the fares driving all around before reaching where I wanted to go. Hardware stores and dental supply houses are not common in Manhattan.”
“As Briana predicted, Emmertyn did not look too closely when he took his coat out of the closet,” Maurice said. “We were able to squnch up in the storage area, and he never saw us.”
“Part of the aftereffects of the charm,” Briana added.
“What is all this charm business?” Jake asked. “No, forget that for now. Let’s see if Maurice can pull off what he says he can.”
“It will take the two of us,” Maurice said. He shrugged. “From one of my previous lives… before I began trying to walk the Noble Path.”
The Buddhist hesitated for a moment. “I realize I was the one who came up with this plan,” he said. “But I am not sure if we should go ahead. Buddha says ‘It is better to do nothing than to do what is wrong.’ We are breaking and entering here.”
“We’re not going to take anything,” Jake said. “Just look around. Right, Briana?”
“Yes, that is all,” Briana said.
“To find the right thing to do is so confusing.” Maurice sighed. “We are not to do what is wrong. But the fourth step on the Eightfold Path is Right Action — acting without selfish attachment to our own agendas.”
“Maurice, do you have any agenda here?” Briana asked.
“Well… no.” Maurice shook his head. “I am merely going with the flow. What will happen, will happen.”
He crossed the floor to the inner door and stretched himself out prone in front of it. “Hand me the dental mirror,” he said to Jake, “and get comfortable alongside of me here.”
Jake complied and watched Maurice slip the little circular mirror on a stick underneath the inner door and turn it, so it faced upward. With his free hand, he motioned Jake to get his head closer to the floor. “Look at the reflection,” he said. “You can see the doorknob on the other side and the little locking mechanism protruding from it. Your job is going to be keeping the mirror steady and focused on the knob.”
Jake grunted, and Maurice rose to sitting. He grabbed the pliers Jake had purchased from the hardware store and began uncoiling one of the metal coat hangers from the closet. When it was a more or less straight piece of wire, he bent a little hook into one end and an ell about half way down its length. Then he inserted it under the door.
“Can you see the hook?” Maurice asked.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Now what?”
“Give me directions. Tell me how to guide the hook until it grabs the thumbturn.”
“Okay, go an inch to my left. No, too much. Back, maybe a half…”
IN A few minutes, the inner door was open, and the trio entered. A thin mailer sat on the desk in addition to the clock and incense burner.
Briana looked about. “The safe,” she pointed. “What we need probably is in there.”
Jake shook his head. “The stuff you found on the net won’t work on that baby. It looks like it is a Class One.” He surveyed the room. “This is a dead end, Briana. Let’s get out of here and go home.”
Briana frowned. “Not so fast,” she said as she scooped up the mailer. “Universal Systems (USX) Attention Ms. Ashley Anderfield, Department Head,” she read aloud. “‘RFP’s are stamped on it several times. And the address is back in LA. One of the beach towns.” She toyed with a strand of hair for a second, and then her eyes brightened. “Maybe she is one of the exiles or at least can lead us to them.”
Her smile broadened. “And going back, this time, Jake, you can teach me how to drive.”
JAKE CLIMBED out of the Tesla last and followed the other two up the stairs to his apartment. The car had behaved beautifully, but driving straight through with breaks only for snacks and recharging was tiring. They should have stopped longer rather than pushing on. But no matter; a hot shower and a familiar bed would fix up everything by next morn
ing.
He reached into his pocket, checked his phone, and puzzled. There were over a dozen calls from Margo. Of course! He had turned it off when they were going to visit Emmertyn’s office the second time. And the driving lessons and stewing about Briana had filled all his thoughts on the way back home.
He was about to turn it on but then, thought better of it. Later, after Briana was out of earshot.
“I’m sure we closed everything up when we left,” Maurice said as they reached Jake’s floor. “But look. The door is ajar.”
“What? Lemme see,” Jake said. He moved to the front, flung the door all the way open, and gasped. The plywood paneling he had installed over the broken window before they left was still there. But that was all. The living area was vacant, no TV, not one piece of furniture. He ran to his bedroom, and it was the same, completely bare. No bed, no dresser, no clothes in the closet, nothing.
Briana and Maurice confirmed it was the same in their rooms and the kitchen. What was going on here? Impulsively, he turned on his phone and clicked on the first of Margo’s messages.
“He’s found out, Jake! He’s found out!” the phone recited. “I’m on the street with only the clothes on my back. I don’t know what to do. Call me! Call me as soon as you get this!”
Jake hit reply, but the phone voiced “Number no longer in service.”
He was amazed and confused at the same time. Margo gone? His father had found out. How? Did that have something to do with the apparent burglary?
“You will have to leave now,” someone said from the doorway. “I represent the property manager. Your lease has been cancelled.”
“What! What for?” Jake demanded. His senses reeled. “What happened?”
“Well, first, the visitors over the last few days, always asking about you, where you were, annoying the other residents.” He waved his hands, palms up. “And then when your father called and bought out the lease at a price we couldn’t refuse…”
