by Dan Willis
He gave her a sheepish grin and an apologetic shrug.
“Take off your shirt,” she said, the scowl never wavering.
Alex did as he was told, giving Sorsha the abbreviated version of his evening encounter. For her part, the sorceress carefully unwound Zelda’s work and checked his wounds. Healing ability was rare among sorcerers, but Sorsha had famously helped out recovering soldiers at Manhattan hospitals during the big war, so she knew her way around injuries.
“You need to go to the hospital,” she said. Two of the man-wolf’s claws had managed to penetrate his coat and shirt and tear open his flesh. Sorsha examined the upper gash, probing the edge of the wound with her finger.
“I’ll be fine,” he said dismissively.
She gave him a stern look.
“First of all,” she said in her take-charge voice, “these wounds are too deep for wound paste, they need to be sutured. And secondly, if it was some kind of animal that did this, there’s no telling what kind of disease it might be carrying.”
“Normally you’d be right,” Alex said, handing her some fresh gauze to wrap up the wound again. “In this case, however, that’s Iggy’s special wound paste. Guaranteed to kill off Bubonic Plague, and as long as it’s not bleeding faster than the paste can seal it, I’ll be fine.”
She gave him a penetrating look, then sighed.
“All right,” she conceded. “Whatever attacked you wasn’t any movie monster, so what was it?”
“A wolf-man,” he said, with no trace of a smile.
“You’re not funny,” she said, just shy of exasperation.
“Oh, come on,” he said, buttoning his shirt back up. “I’m a little funny.”
That actually got a smile out of the sorceress, and she shook her head.
“A very little. Now what are you thinking?”
“Alchemy,” he said. “I’ve seen people completely transformed with the right elixir.”
“You mean Dr. Kellin,” Sorsha said. “And…and Jessica. But weren’t they fundamentally the same person?”
“Yes,” he admitted, “but Jessica was physically taller than Andrea, and Lilith was shorter than both of them. If someone has figured out a formula like Andrea’s, they’re smart enough to figure out how to blend a man with a wolf.”
Sorsha shivered at his words.
“Well, that’s not terrifying,” she said, sarcasm plain in her voice. “You think someone got ahold of Dr. Kellin’s formula?”
Alex shook his head.
“I have the only copy of that formula, here in my vault,” he said. “Linda knows it exists, but she doesn’t know how her mother made it. She might be able to figure it out in a couple of decades, but she’s not up to it yet.”
Moving carefully, he slipped his coat back on. The wound paste was doing its job, but it wasn’t like an expensive healing potion, so it would take a week or two to work.
“No,” he said, leading Sorsha back out into the vault’s great room. “I think this is someone else.”
“I thought you said the…” she made a face, “the wolf-man demanded you turn over the remaining cards? The ones from the museum robbery.”
Alex nodded as he headed for the open door back to the hotel suite.
“Grab some of your good Scotch,” Sorsha said. “I think this is going to be a conversation where it’s required.”
Alex stifled a groan, but turned toward the liquor cabinet in his library area. He picked up the bottle of brandy he’d left out on his reading table.
“To answer your question,” he said, “I don’t know how this alchemist is connected to the museum robbery, but he clearly is.”
“You sound like you have someone in mind,” Sorsha said, as Alex pulled a fresh glass out of the cabinet and filled it.
Noticing that he didn’t need a new glass for himself, Sorsha picked up the one remaining on the sideboard and examined the lipstick on the rim.
“Miss Pritchard’s color.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact.
“We hid in here until the police arrived,” Alex said, passing her a glass of brandy.
The sorceress looked like she wanted to discuss that statement, but her curiosity about the attack won the fight for her attention.
“So who is this alchemist that you think is involved?” she wondered, sipping her drink as she led the way back toward the open door and Alex’s hotel suite.
Alex drank half his brandy, then made his way to the comfy chair he’d used the last time he’d had Sorsha over for drinks. As soon as she was settled, he launched into the story of Lucky Tony Casetti and his missing alchemist nephew.
When he finished, Sorsha was stone-faced.
“Is this mobster going to be a problem?” she asked in a voice that clearly indicated that she would handle Lucky Tony herself if the answer was yes.
“I can take care of him,” Alex said. “But I’m starting to think there’s more going on with his nephew than he knows.”
“People like him don’t like being told they’re wrong, Alex. Have you replaced your escape rune?”
“No,” he admitted. “It takes weeks to make one, and I just haven’t had the time.”
“So you think this Colton can make some kind of transformation potion,” Sorsha said. “If he can do that, why does he want pattern cards from an antique loom?”
Alex had no answer for that, so he just shrugged.
“I admit that part doesn’t fit,” he said. “But it’s awful convenient, him being a highly skilled alchemist and missing right when someone starts making alchemical monsters. I’ll have to ask him when I find him.”
“What if he is being forced to do this, just like Charles Grier?”
Alex actually hadn’t thought of that. If someone grabbed Colton Pierce because of his alchemical prowess, that would explain a lot. Of course they would still need the recipe for a transformation potion; there was no way Colton had cooked one up out of thin air in just a few days.
Still, it was the best lead he had on where the wolf man potion had come from.
Sorsha reached out and took his now-empty glass, setting it aside on the little end table in the corner between couch and chair. When she was done, she grabbed his hand and held it.
“Be careful,” she said, squeezing gently.
“Don’t worry,” Alex said, putting on a confident grin. “Once I figure out where Colton Pierce is, I’ll be done with Lucky Tony for good.”
She didn’t respond, and the silence stretched out between them.
“I heard back from Sherry,” he said at last.
Sorsha sat up straighter, releasing his hand.
“Did she find out anything about that highway bill, something we can use, I mean,” she amended.
Alex chuckled, then revealed what Sherry had learned about Senator Young’s assistant, Duke, and the quarter of a million dollars he stood to make on the deal.
“So he has motive,” Sorsha said, a predatory smile spreading across her perfect face.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand of them,” Alex concurred.
“You need to thank Sherry for me when she gets back from Illinois.”
“She’s already back,” Alex said, refilling his brandy. “I used the vault to get her home.”
When Sorsha didn’t respond, Alex stopped pouring and looked up. She sat, regarding him with a quizzical expression.
“You were here all day yesterday,” she said. “How did your secretary, who isn’t a runewright, open a door into your vault from Illinois?”
“Oops,” Alex said, trying and failing to avoid blushing.
“Are you keeping secrets from me again?” she demanded, though her voice was playful.
“Of course not,” Alex said with exaggerated sincerity. “I figured this out a few weeks ago, but I didn’t know it would work until Sherry tested it by managing to open the back door. Even Iggy doesn’t know it worked; you’re the first person I’ve told.”
She gave him a dubious look
, and rolled her eyes as he sat back down.
“By accident,” she said.
“I promise I’m not trying to hide anything from you,” he said, taking her hand this time. “But I’m not going to tell you about every wild idea I have, ‘cause that’d take all day. I’ll just bring you in the loop once I know they work.”
She held his gaze for a moment, then smiled.
“You’d better,” she said. She withdrew her hand and drained the last bit of brandy from her cup. “Now that we’ve got that worked out,” she said, setting the glass aside, “where does young Duke Harris live?”
Having only met the Senator’s aide in professional settings, Alex didn’t know.
“I’m sure Tiffany Young knows,” Alex said. “We can call her in the morning. Of course, by then Duke will be at work, so we might as well confront him there.”
Sorsha’s expression soured.
“I want to roust him out of bed and hit him with this tonight,” she said, fervor creeping into her voice. She held that thought for a moment, then sighed and slumped back into the couch. “But I guess we’ll have to wait.”
“Well, I’m going to bed,” Alex said, setting his glass aside and standing. He gave Sorsha a sly grin and she raised an eyebrow in return. “You’re welcome to join me, of course,” he said. “Purely professionally, of course. I won’t make any advances.”
Sorsha tried to suppress a snicker and failed. She stood slowly, sensually, like a snake uncoiling, moving toward him until she stood only a few inches away. A half smile played across her lips, then she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed Alex lightly on the lips.
“Thank you for the offer,” she said, her smile blossoming into a wide grin. “But if you’re not going to make any indecent advances, it doesn’t sound like it’d be much fun.”
Alex opened his mouth to reply, but Sorsha just winked at him and disappeared.
He stood there for a long minute, looking at the space the sorceress had occupied before she teleported away, then he chuckled and shrugged.
“Me and my big mouth.”
Early the following morning, Alex collected Sorsha at her hotel. She answered her door in a dark blue pencil skirt, a white shirt, and suspenders. Being nicknamed the Ice Queen for her business enchanting refrigeration disks, she played into the moniker by not wearing a coat despite the winter chill in the air. Her makeup was more subtle than it had been the night before, attempting to de-emphasize her femininity.
As if she could do that.
Alex pointedly ignored Sorsha’s inquiry about how he slept, and they headed to D.C. P.D. Command Office number two to pick up Detective Norton. The Detective was in a meeting when they arrived, so it was after ten when they finally managed to explain what Sherry had uncovered. A few minutes after that, they piled into Norton’s car and headed to the Senate office building.
“Nice to see you all again,” Duke Harris said when they walked into Senator Young’s office. “Have you made any progress on the case?”
“In fact, we have,” Norton said, giving the Senatorial aide a smile that was all teeth. “We discovered that the Senate has a highway bill before it this week.”
“The Hayden-Cartwright Federal Highway Act,” Alex supplied.
Norton hesitated at the interruption, but rallied quickly.
“It turns out that Senator Young had sole discretion over which of the two proposed routes is actually going to be used when the highway goes through Illinois.”
“That’s right,” Duke confirmed. “Senator Mills had to recuse himself because his brother owns a construction company bidding on the work.”
“What is a Senator supposed to do when his aide stands to inherit a fortune based on his vote?” Sorsha asked.
Duke looked shocked, but only for a moment. The mask of helpful friendliness returned quickly, and he just sighed.
“I take it you know about my Great Aunt Harriet,” he said.
“So you admit you stand to make a substantial amount of money, depending on the way your Senator votes,” Norton said, flipping open his notebook and jotting the comment down.
“That land has been in Aunt Harriet’s family for generations,” Duke said. “There’s nothing untoward about her owning it or about my being her only living relative.”
“Unless Senator Young decides to pick the other route,” Alex pointed out. “If that happened it might push a clever man to…remove Young as an obstacle.”
Duke chuckled at that.
“I can tell by the questions you asked a few days ago that Mrs. Young told you about the real reason he was in that hotel room with his secretary,” he said.
“Yes,” Norton confirmed. “We know all about the Senator’s predilections.”
Duke looked at them each in turn as if the Detective’s admission answered their accusations.
“If you know what kind of man Paul Young was,” Duke said, speaking slowly as if he were talking to children, “then you know he had no intention of picking the alternate route.”
“You cut him in,” Alex guessed. “If Senator Young didn’t vote the way you wanted, he wouldn’t get paid.”
Duke didn’t answer, he just tapped the tip of his nose with his finger.
“You couldn’t do that,” Norton said. “He’d never take your word for it; you’d have to have a contract drawn up. That would leave a paper trail a mile wide, especially when Young tried to collect. Even with a contract, you could stiff him and bet that he wouldn’t ruin his good name by suing you in open court.”
“You make it sound like such a difficult problem,” Duke said with a sly smile. He turned and walked around his desk, withdrawing a large manilla envelope from his center desk drawer. “Here,” he said, handing the envelope to Norton.
The Detective turned it over and pulled out a thin pack of official looking certificates.
“What’s the Jeff Wilson Memorial Land Trust?” he asked, reading the name off the top of the first certificate.
“All of my Aunt Harriet’s land is held in trust by that corporation,” Duke said. “What you’re holding in your hand is fifty shares out of a total of two hundred and fifty.”
“I don’t see how that helps,” Alex said. “I get how it keeps your hands clean but Young still has to sell the shares to get his money. Stock sales have to be recorded.”
Duke actually laughed out loud.
“That’s the beauty of it,” he said, still chuckling. “These are bearer shares; you don’t have to sell them at all.”
Alex had never heard of ‘bearer shares,’ and from the look on his face, neither had Norton.
“So?” the Detective said.
“So these shares belong to whoever holds them,” Sorsha supplied. “All Duke had to do to keep the Senator in line was hand him that envelope before the vote. If he votes the right way, that paper becomes worth fifty thousand dollars; if he doesn’t, it’s worthless. Then all Young has to do is trade the shares to someone else for fifty thousand in cash or goods, less a transaction fee of course, and no one would ever be the wiser. The new owner of the shares then cashes them in, but since they aren’t connected to Senator Young, no one cares.”
“I see why the FBI keeps you around, Ms. Kincaid,” Duke said with a nod that was both acknowledgement and admiration.
“None of that lets you off the hook,” Norton said. “You still could have killed your boss to save yourself fifty Gs.”
“No,” Alex contradicted. “Duke couldn’t have known who the Governor of Illinois would appoint to fill Senator Young’s seat. If the new Senator had some other interest in the deal, he might vote the other way in spite of the bribe. The risk would be too great.”
“That doesn’t prove he didn’t do it,” Norton said.
“No,” Sorsha admitted with a sigh. “But anyone smart enough to put this together,” she indicated the bearer shares, “is smart enough to play it safe.”
Duke didn’t respond, he just smiled.
“I’m still go
ing to run you in for criminal conspiracy,” Norton said, dipping into the pocket of his suit coat for his handcuffs.
“What conspiracy?” Duke shrugged. “All you have is an envelope full of bearer shares for a company I happen to be a part owner of. None of that is illegal.”
“Bribing a Senator is,” the Detective growled.
“What bribe?” Alex asked. “Senator Young never received anything from Duke. Nothing you can prove anyway, since the shares are currently in your hands, and therefore owned by you.”
“And I’ll make sure my lawyer asks you if you ever owned any shares in the trust,” Duke said. “I”m sure that’ll play well with the jury.”
“He can still stop you from bribing Senator Unger when he gets here,” Alex said. “All Detective Norton has to do is hang on to those shares as evidence.”
This time Duke’s laugh was loud and went on for half a minute.
“That’s the joke,” he said through tears. “That idiot Unger got here this morning. Since he didn’t know the bill, he asked me what Senator Young was going to do.”
“And you told him,” Sorsha said.
“Of course,” Duke practically shouted. “The old fool didn’t even question it. He walked right onto the Senate floor and recommended the northern route.”
“When are they voting on this?” Alex demanded.
“They had the vote twenty minutes ago.”
26
Alchemy and Bullets
After the morning he’d had, Alex needed a drink when he got back to his hotel room. He’d left Detective Norton and Sorsha arguing with Duke Harris. As much as Alex wanted Duke to be the killer, it just didn’t make sense. Duke’s scheme to get rich came off successfully, but the death of Paul Young could have easily messed it up. There just wasn’t any upside for Duke in killing his boss.
Sorsha and Norton still wanted to arrest him for something, but the only evidence that he’d actually done anything wrong was his own admission and he’d simply deny that in court. Alex hated the idea that Duke would get away with his insider dealing, but that wasn’t really his problem. Washington seemed to be full of those kinds of back room deals, enough to spend his whole life tracking them down, so he resolved to stay focused on the case for which he was being paid.
