James Swain - Dark Magic

A man wearing a dark raincoat walked past Carr and kept going. Reaching the back of the car, the man pulled a walkie-talkie from his pocket, and began to whisper into it. Holly guessed the man was a policeman, and was watching Carr.

She had a thought. If the man watching Dr. Carr was a policeman, there would be other policemen. They always worked in teams. Again, she stirred the water with her fingertip.

“Like a bird from high above, let me see where this train is going.

Who is waiting on the other end?

Friend or foe?

Please show me, for I must know.”

The water went through another transformation. When it cleared, she found herself looking at an enclosed railroad platform inside Penn Station. The platform was filled with people waiting for a train to arrive. She studied the crowd, and spotted more men talking into walkie-talkies, waiting for Dr. Carr’s train to pull in. Carr couldn’t escape from that many policemen. He was going to be apprehended, and have his knapsack taken away from him. Case closed.

Or was it? It wasn’t over until it was over. Someone famous had once said that. It wasn’t over until the madman was led away in handcuffs. She twirled the water again.

“Take me back inside the railroad car,

To see the doctor, whose name is Carr.”

She was going to have to work on her rhyming skills. The water inside the glass went clear, and Carr reappeared. Rising from his seat, the doctor pulled the backpack down from the rack, and clutched it against his chest. He was carrying on a conversation with himself, and being watched by the other passengers. He looked ready to explode.

“Because you are an evil man,

I now must raise my hand.

May your eyes grow blurred,

And your feet feel like lead.

May your stomach grow so nauseous,

That you wish you were dead.”

“Why, there you are,” her aunt said, standing in the doorway in her bathrobe.

Holly looked away from the glass long enough for the spell to be broken, and the water to turn clear. “Aunt Milly, what are you doing out of bed? You could fall, and hurt yourself.”

“All of those things are true,” her aunt said. “Yet none are as important as this.” From her pocket, she removed a gold locket in the shape of a heart, which she displayed to her niece.

“Do you recognize this? You coveted it as a child.”

Holly crossed the study to get a closer look. “It’s Mary Glover’s locket. You showed it to me once. I never forgot it.”

“The time has come for you to have it.”

“Oh, Aunt Milly, I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you remember what I told you about this locket?”

“I certainly do. You said it contained the most magical of potions, and had the power to change a person’s life forever.”

“That is correct. With it, you will be able to help our beloved Peter, and give him back the things which Max and I have so unfairly denied him.”

“The locket will help me do that? But how?”

“Easy, my dear child. I will explain.”

Before the words had left her mouth, Milly’s eyelids began to flutter, and her head sagged to one side. She sank noiselessly to the floor, her fingers clutching the locket.

“Max, come help me!” Holly called into the apartment.

As the train pulled into the platform at Penn Station, the interior lights flickered as the car bounced across the high-voltage electric tracks. Dr. Lucas Carr looked at the faces of the other passengers in the eerie strobe light.

“The time is here,” he announced loudly.

The train came to a screeching halt, and the lights returned. Carr felt the weight of his fellow passengers’ stares as they tried to determine if he was a threat. New York was filled with threats. Punks, street people, crazies. He wanted to tell them that he wasn’t any of the above, just mad as hell. They’d find out soon enough.

Rising from his seat, he removed his knapsack from the overhead rack, and shoved himself into the aisle now filled with people.

“I was like you once,” he said. “Just like you.”

The doors to the train parted, and everyone filed out. Carr felt himself being caught up in their movement as if being pulled out to sea by a powerful tide.

“Stop pushing me,” he said angrily.

His fellow commuters ignored him. It made his rage that much greater. He considered removing the bomblet from the knapsack, and throwing it against the nearest wall, causing the deadly Novichok to come spraying out in all directions, and take down every single one of them.

He didn’t do it. He would not deter from his plan. He was going to take a subway to Times Square, get a bite to eat, and wait for the theaters to let out. When the sidewalks were packed, he’d toss the bomblet in front of a moving vehicle, the impact causing the nerve agent to dispel through the air. He’d done the math, and knew that he’d created enough of the deadly nerve agent to kill tens of thousands of people, not just in Times Square, but all across the city. Even this dreadful rain was not capable of containing it.

He’d targeted the theater district for a reason. The night before the accident, he’d taken his wife and daughter to see a musical in Times Square. Thinking about it broke his heart, and it was only fitting that he stage his attack in a place that held so many painful memories.

He followed the crowd up the stairs to the main level. Penn Station was the busiest train station in the country; during rush hour, hundreds of thousands of people were moved through its terminals. It was a microcosm of the city it served, and always hectic.

“Dr. Carr,” said a man’s voice.

The voice had come from behind him. Carr did not turn around. It might have been an old friend, but something told him that it wasn’t. In his haste to get up the stairs, he shoved the burly construction worker in front of him, causing him to stumble.

“Watch it, buddy,” the construction worker warned.

“Excuse me, but I’m in a hurry,” Carr explained.

“Ain’t we all.”

“Dr. Carr,” the voice called again. “Please stop!”

Carr stole a glance over his shoulder. The man was a few steps behind him, and had a policeman’s badge clipped to the lapel of his overcoat. He was not alone. There were a dozen other men with badges clipped to their coats coming up the stairs, as well.

Carr sprinted around the construction worker. He would not to let himself be arrested. This was his last stand, and he was going to make the most of it.

Reaching the top, he looked for an exit. He was inside the Long Island Railroad terminal, a claustrophobic space filled with food concessions and newspaper stands. Rush hour had started, and long lines of commuters stood outside the gates. More men with badges emerged from the crowd, circling around him.

Carr was trapped.

The rest of the cops appeared from the stairwell. They fanned out, and created a tight circle around him. The cop who’d been calling his name stepped forward.

“My name is Detective Emener,” he said in a measured tone. “I need to talk with you, Dr. Carr. Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”

Carr raised the knapsack above his head. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Don’t do that, Dr. Carr.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” Carr bellowed.

“Calm down, Dr. Carr. Do as I say, and no one will get hurt.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Lots of people are going to get hurt.”

“Please, Dr. Carr.”

Carr was determined to go down fighting. He was surrounded by cops, who in turn were surrounded by mobs of anxious commuters watching the scene unfold. The presence of so many people gave him an idea. Drawing the Sig Sauer from his jacket, he aimed at the ceiling, and let off a round. It sounded like a cannon in the enclosed space. Women in the crowd screamed. It was exactly what Carr wanted, and he fired the Sig again. The commuters headed for the exits, knocking through the circle of policemen in a mad stampede for safety. Detective Emener started to move toward him, only to be swept aside by the rush of people. Slipping the Sig into his pocket, Carr joined the fleeing mob, the knapsack clutched protectively to his chest.