John Mackie - Hazardous Goods

“Oh, of course!” The big man blushed, and I realized he had been asking out of concern, rather than any malicious intent.

“It was one of our regulars, though. Clay was surprised. I guess he’s never had anything like this happen before.”

“No? Well, that makes sense. Clay’s always been seen as… I guess neutral is the best word, though that’s not quite right. I mean, people aren’t on sides per se, but he’s managed to stay out of the petty squabbles. Kind of a trusted intermediary. For someone to go after you guys — I’d be surprised if BOA doesn’t look into it.”

BOA? I had a vague memory of Clay mentioning the name. Might be worthwhile following up with him, to get a better feel for the politics of the occult world. Were there parties? Leaders? God forbid, elections?

“Well, Clay has asked me to follow up with our clients, let them know about the theft. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, maybe you could let us know?”

“Absolutely.” He paused, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Though pretty much all of it is out of the ordinary in this business, if you know what I mean.”

We shared a chuckle.

“Though, now that you mention it… Hm. There has been some chatter about a few new players in town.”

“New players?”

“I haven’t heard much, but I got the sense they were throwing their weight around — hard-balling a couple of the downtown shops, trying to bully them into supplying stuff on the cheap.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“Naw. I mean, I’ve just heard rumblings, nothing specific.”

“OK. If you hear anything further, can you let me know?”

“Absolutely.”

As Pask turned to check something on his desk, I contemplated the bizarre nature of it all. Lucky charms I could understand, maybe even horoscopes or palm reading if a person needed someone else to tell them to leave their cheating spouse. I could also understand people who collected cool things, like fancy swords or flashy amulets.

But real magic? Curses and magic wands? I was still having a tough time with that, let alone the idea that bigger powers were at work, influencing the power of spells or potions. Who were these bigger powers? J. K. Rowling?

I remained unconvinced, but cautious. After all, God gave mankind thunder, but some people still wouldn’t pay attention until they were lying in the grass, shoes smoldering.

I finished my West End run and did a few pick-ups before returning to the office just before lunch. Clarkson, Erindale, Etobicoke… I crossed the vast expanse of Mississauga, the suburban sprawl neighboring Toronto’s towers.

Scanning the area as I pulled into the parking lot, I mulled over the wonderful variety of businesses that could be found in some strip malls. Pizza shops, ice cream parlors, Chinese food restaurants, coffee shops, variety stores, electronics outlets. An endless list of distractions.

Arcane Transport was not in one of those malls.

Ours was the third unit of four. The first unit housed The Sofa Gallery, an outfit that appeared determined to sell every last piece of Naugahyde furniture still in existence. Next to it stood Signs and More, with windows displaying a vast array of colorful signs and posters. Arcane’s entrance was uncluttered in comparison to that of the sign shop. Just a simple sign above the door with the Arcane logo. Hours were marked on the window, along with a phone number.

The last unit housed something called the Urban Jungle. When I first saw the sign from the street, my thought was that it was some sort of rave club hidden away in this cement corner of Etobicoke (pronounced with a silent ‘k’, for some strange reason). But I had failed to anticipate the true evil housed within. This was no rave club. Oh, no. That would have involved drug crazed teens cavorting at late hours. This was far, far worse.

It was an indoor children’s playground.

As I passed through the front lot, I narrowly dodged a father passing by with a toddler hanging off his shoulder, wailing like a trapped racoon. I slowed, thinking the man was some kind of child snatcher. Then I realized no-one in their right mind would snatch that child.

Clay and I had eaten lunch in the bullpen area behind Reception the day before, so I grabbed my lunch bag from the fridge and wandered back. Kara was on the phone, with a second line on hold.

Today, the kitchen table was unmanned, with only one of the two offices next to the bullpen occupied. Jim was out for the rest of the day, though I thought I might see Harold. Maggie was on a three day week, so she’d be out until tomorrow. The one person in sight was a young fellow seated in front of a stack of paper invoices, one hand working away at a calculator and a laptop teetering on the corner of the desk.

“Oh, Mr. Elder! Good to see you again.”

John Vranic was an accountant with a local firm that I had met while conducting my due diligence on Arcane. He must have been six-seven at least, and maybe a hundred and sixty pounds, making him the human equivalent of a flagpole.

“Nice to see you.”

“Just going over the books for last week.”

John’s firm reviewed Arcane’s books — payroll, payables, receivables, the whole lot.

“Everything looking OK?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, absolutely. Arcane has very clean books. Never seem to have any bad debts, at least nothing material. Knock on wood. In fact, you have the best receivables record of any… “

The next few minutes were lost in a blur of accountant-speak.

“Slow down, big guy. You’re killing him with the details.”

Hallelujah.

Kara entered the room like a cool breeze on a suffocating summer afternoon. I noted the big goofy smile that crossed John’s face. Looked like puppy love.

“How’d the morning go?”

“Good. Gotta say, though — Arcane Transport has one strange group of customers.”

They laughed, and I was relieved to see I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. John pulled a lunch bag from his battered briefcase, and the three of us ate together, trading stories from the morning.

“I dropped by the hospital at ten — Harper said they had visitors all morning.”

“How was he looking?”

“He’s still hooked up to all the monitors and stuff.”

Kara paused, and I debated whether to fill the silence. But she took a breath and went on.

“He’ll be all right. Doctors say he’s stabilized. Just had a bad scare.”

“Well, Clay’s a tough old coot. He’ll be back soon enough.”

I thought John was probably right. In fact, I was counting on it.

“Oh, and I spoke to Helen Findlay again.” I responded with my best blank look. “At Sun Consulting?”

Crap. I’d managed to forget all about them and their now-missing package.

“And?”

“We set up a time — I’ve dropped it into your calendar.”

I checked my handheld, and there it was — time and location.

“So, uh… ” The corner of her mouth tweaked. “Did you get a chance to make that drop-off at Hidden Pleasures?”

The thought of that late morning delivery brought heat to my cheeks and ears.

“Hah!”

“Wild, huh?” John seemed to know more about Arcane’s customers than most accountants.

“I must say it never occurred to me that a — uh-.”

“Strip joint.” Kara was laughing at me. Oh, the shame of it.

“A strip joint would have need for our services. Yeah.”

“Potions and incense. They tried it three years ago, for “feature nights”. Saw a thirty percent increase in revenues that month.”

I smirked. “You seem to know a lot about the business, big guy.”