Robert Weinberg - A Logical Magician

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” declared Anderson, his voice cold. “Nelson mentioned you were flashing a big roll of bills. A lot more money than most graduate students carry in their pockets. Especially ones supposedly knocked around by a motorcycle gang.”

Jack flushed. “What are you leading up to, Anderson? You accusing me of drug dealing?”

The instant after he made the remark Jack was sorry he mentioned drugs. But by then it was much too late.

“Drugs?” said Anderson, his lips curving in a sinister smile. The security chief looked like a rattlesnake ready to strike. With Jack as his prospective dinner. “I never once brought up drugs.”

“I found a new job,” said Jack, the words rushing out. Panic sent his mind into overdrive. “You know I’ve been looking for one for weeks. My new boss advanced me a week’s salary to pay off some of my bills. That was the money Nelson noticed. If he had asked, I would have told him just like I’m telling you. And that’s the truth.”

The chief frowned. “No reason to get riled up, Collins. You can’t blame me for doing my job. That’s why the Dean pays my salary. It was an honest mistake. I’ll even apologize—once I check the story with that new employer of yours. Got a phone number I can call?”

Jack’s mouth went bone dry. “Uh, that won’t be possible.”

“No?” Anderson’s voice was ice cold again. “Why not?”

“He… she… they left town for the week,” said Jack. “That’s why I was paid in advance. Mr. Ambrose asked me to watch the office while he’s gone. No one’s there at present. It’s a small consulting firm in the Loop.”

“Sounds awfully strange to me,” said Anderson. “A boss hires a new worker and then leaves town the same day. Putting the fledgling employee in charge of an empty office, no less. You ain’t planning any sudden trips yourself, are you, Collins?”

“No, nothing,” said Jack.

“Good,” said the security chief. “I’d hate for you to leave campus before I could verify your story. ’Cause if you did, I’d have to report my suspicions to the Chicago police. And they might not be so trusting of our grad students as me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Jack.

“I hope you’re not lying, Collins,” said Anderson, his voice growing progressively softer. “I hate drugs and I hate drug dealers. They make me sick. And, when I’m sick, I get angry. Real angry. Angry enough to break all the bones in a man’s fingers and toes, one at a time.”

Inside his shoes, Jack’s toes curled. “I’m telling the truth. Nothing but the truth.”

“We’ll see,” said Anderson, heading for the door. “We’ll see.”

The officer gone, Jack collapsed to the sofa, his body drenched in sweat. “Our friends still outside?” he asked Simon.

“Haven’t moved an inch,” reported the changeling. “If they stand any stiffer, they’ll grow roots. Like I said, during the day they’re weak. Tonight is when to worry.”

Jack sighed. The day was not off to a good start. He had an uneasy feeling things were not going to get any better.

“You planning to stay on campus like you told the chief?” asked Simon.

“That depends on our buddies across the street,” said Jack. “Anderson’s paranoid and mean. No question he’s a problem I’ve got to face sooner or later. But he’s only human.”

“And the pair watching this building aren’t,” said Simon.

“Exactly,” said Jack. “Give me a minute to think.”

While Simon cheerfully rummaged through the kitchenette, preparing a second breakfast, Jack contemplated the dilemmas facing him. Merlin and Megan were in terrible danger. The world needed to be saved from an ancient God. His enemies, including Border Redcaps, Corpse Hounds, and the Wild Huntsman, knew where he lived. Benny Anderson suspected him of dealing in illegal drugs. And there were tests from last week still ungraded.

After ten minutes of mental juggling, Jack finally settled on a schedule of attack. Sort of.

“Today’s Friday. Thank god for that. I shifted my tutoring classes to Gleason. So I don’t have to worry about handling them. But the other two courses I teach require my presence today. I owe my students that much. Then, there’s Professor Winston’s class at seven p.m. that I grade the papers for. So I have to attend his lectures. Once that’s finished, I’m free for the weekend.

“Say we meet at my office in the mathematics building at eight-thirty? That’s when we’ll plot out our strategy for dealing with this von Bern character.”

“Meaning,” said Simon, polishing off a piece of toast, “you don’t have the foggiest notion what to do, and you’re praying the extra hours will give you a glimmer.”

“That’s about the size of it,” admitted Jack. “You got a better idea?”

“Nope,” said the changeling. “But I’m not the one supposed to save the world.”

For that remark. Jack had no answer.

“The vampire failed,” said Roger, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another. “He’s gone without a trace, and Collins remains alive. Somehow, this unlikely champion defeated one of our most powerful allies.”

The Crouching One, sitting in a huge armchair that dwarfed its small features, bent its head slightly in reply. The demigod seemed strangely pleased by the bad news.

“As I expected,” it replied, a brief smile of satisfaction drifting past its lips. “No ordinary mortal could defeat one of the night spawn in combat. Walsh’s death merely confirmed my suspicions. His loss matters little otherwise. The magician, Merlin, obviously prepared this young man as mankind’s champion.

“Once he is eliminated, none will stand before us. Collins is one frail mortal against the hordes of darkness. The time has come for our allies to put an end to this annoyance. The night of blood approaches. Soon, very soon, my unconquerable spirit shall envelop the world in eternal darkness.”

Roger yawned. The Crouching One rarely had anything brilliant to say. It was obsessed with ruling the Earth. Though immensely more powerful than any of the other supernatural creatures Roger had ever encountered, the demigod was no different in character. All of its actions were governed by a basic set of desires that seemed programmed into its personality. The Lord of the Lions lacked motivation. It acted in certain ways not because it wanted to, but because it had to.

While no student of psychology, Roger recognized a fatal flaw when he encountered it. The Crouching One could be controlled by its needs. Though it commanded astonishing powers, the demigod had the personality and instincts of a spoiled child. Given enough time, Roger felt sure he could subtly gain absolute mastery of the creature. And then the world would be his plaything.

“I want you to contact von Bern on that magical telephone device you use,” said the Crouching One, breaking into Roger’s daydreams. “Tell him to use whatever force is necessary to kill Collins. He can offer any reward, enlist any ally in this task. As long as the German does not jeopardize our master plan, he can do anything he wants to accomplish my desires. No half-measures this time. The human champion must die. Without any more delays.”

“You said that yesterday,” remarked Roger casually. “Are you confident the Huntsman can handle this situation on his own? He hasn’t shown any sign of competence so far. Chaos Sword or not, he’s not particularly bright. You need someone with real brains on the scene. Maybe I should fly to Chicago and personally oversee the operation. That way there would be no mistakes.”

“And leave me to fend by myself?” said the Crouching One, slowly shaking its head from side to side. “I would be lost without you, my faithful servant. Lost and alone. Helpless in this confusing, modern world.”