Chapter 7
AN UNFORTUNATE PLAN
It's a strange thing to be a private detective in the magical world. What could look more ridiculous? After all, here operates that unusual thing that we call a magic – the sorcery, which normal adults don't believe in. You might think it's simple enough to hire some wizard who, after making a few passes and uttering some senseless words, will immediately reveal the data and whereabouts of the criminal. And maybe even predict their future, look beyond the horizon of the future, so to speak. But!
Here, as always, an unexpected 'catch' has crept in. If complex crimes can be solved with magic, there is no guarantee that they can be successfully hidden with its help! As a result, the imbalance caused by magic in criminology swings back, stabilizing in the same place where analytical skills must be used to overcome the issue. That is, if you do not try too hard, spell will not help you solve crimes. It will even confuse you. Under no circumstances should you involve it in the investigation if you are not the only magician in a radius of a hundred kilometers. I used this when dealing with a private investigation in the magical world. Attention to detail and the old Sherlock Holmes method made wonders here. After all, the first thing that came to mind for the local police – 'ammaratia' was to put a regular magician to unravel the case, which, of course, could only be useful in catching pickpockets on the fish market, and those who were luckier could afford a couple of protective amulets. This nullifies all the efforts and work of the police magicians. I had my own local Lestrade in the police. I had to unravel a pretty complicated murder for him a couple of times. And he helped me establish connections with the right people and find a rich clientele. But at the moment he was not my assistant. Moreover, he would have handed me over to the Harijan without a word! The corruption of the local police could compete with the corruption of the police of some worst corrupted African countries, where they go at night under the guise of gangsters and rob their own population. True, the cops in the "Motherland" are also "good", but here was full chaos for the wealthy. Although... forget them.
It was for these reasons that the Harijan couldn't track me down at the university, even though their best magicians were surely searching for me with all available power. Rufus and the students covered me at a quite professional level. In general, the Harijan aren't great magicians. They only achieve heights of skill due to their long lifespan and persistent training in developing the gift that almost all of them have. Even a dull person can master magic to a decent level in a hundred years. The only problem is pragmatism - the Harijan lack of imagination. It's not that they don't have any at all, it's difficult to explain in ordinary words, but they're extremely practical people. I've heard that they have no folklore, music, or dance in their culture.
Though the devil with it! Anyway, two days after my 'landing' here I got a letter from Tuss saying he was waiting for me at the agreed-upon place, and I was forced to leave the establishment for a rendezvous. Rufus was persuading me to stay, as well as others. But the situation would get stuck if I didn't take any active steps, I decided. The curse would take effect sooner or later. And they couldn't take it away.
After bidding farewell to the hospitable mage students; I, with a trifle, how can I be without it, went to meet the collaborating Ronka.
Tuss was waiting behind the wheel of a truck in the backyard of some dilapidated factory, tannery, or something like that. A small closed truck, like those used by laundries or small wholesalers, was ordered by me. Bus clearly carried out the instructions, although I was almost sure that he would run away after our separation. He had all the pretexts for this, but for some reason, Ronka didn't do it. Amazing! Somehow I had to find out what the true motives for such behavior are.
We were silent for a moment. Both of us were expecting me to say something. I had a list of six influential people in Bridgeport in my pocket. Politicians who could be the people the Harijan Mafia wanted to get rid of, disguising it as the work of a small port gang. But I wasn't thinking about that now. The politicians wouldn't accept me, and what would I tell them? Sorry, I should have killed one of you. I had a completely different plan. Daring and naive. An old-fashioned, but very effective way to fight kidnappings - a retaliatory kidnapping. It doesn't work with lone maniacs, but if you are opposed by clans, diasporas or the kidnapper has some ties, then the case can get hot. Even if you have to steal a "Chao-Chao" - the beloved pet of the family boss. Better of course is a family member. For reliability.
"Hi, Tuss!" I greeted him before I could get close. "How are you?"
Tuss quickly took one last drag and threw the cigarette butt away. They smoked here, by the way. Not tobacco, but some local stuff. Which I suspected was an analog of Earth marijuana. God knows what, but I didn't dare to experiment with my earthly metabolism. Although I sometimes really wanted to take a drag. I used to smoke on Earth.
"Hi, boss!"
I let 'boss' pass me by. Let him call me that, jokingly. If he wants to call himself a mushroom, let him crawl into the trunk, as they say.
Without further ado, we got into the cab. We put Dina in the middle, although it was clear that she was unhappy about it. Her face clearly said, 'perverts', they put a little girl between two grown men"! But apparently, she understood that in case of danger, it was better for me to be by the window, so she stayed quiet the brat.
"Alright," I began my briefing for the team, "let's do what they least expect from us. Or maybe even less. As I said in the end, it doesn't matter whether the victim kills one Zingaru or ten, it will still be a painful and long death. So, let's go to the Singing Sirens and cause some trouble there. I and Tuss will be shooting. We need to capture a few Zingaru and try to exchange them for Shania. You, I looked sternly at Din, stay in the car and work as a radar. I just need you to tell us where and how many targets there are when we get close to the hideout. And stand guard. Can you do it?"
Kid snorted instead of answering, so I guess she could.
"Did you get the weapons, Tusk?" I asked Ronka.
Tuss nodded back to where the covered body of our truck was.
"There's an arsenal there, guys. Your rifle with the magic glass is there too."
"Nice job!" I praised him. "And what about the plan, do you really want to take part?"
Tuss hesitated before answering.
"Well, if I'm completely honest, boss... I wanted to go give the Wall a shot yesterday. But, as you said, I realized that there would be no salvation for me there anyway, and the number of dead Zingaru won't change our fate. Better to die from a bullet than to run from those muzzle-faced freaks."
"It seems like you don't like them," I remarked with a smile. "Then why have you worked for them?"
Tus shrugged. "In life, you have to do all sorts of things. They didn't use us directly often. We usually went on jobs with Tara. Although you killed my brother, it was because of the Zingaru. I understand that. Don't think I'm stupid, Max."
"Excellent, Tuss! You never disappoint me. Well then! As comrade Gagarin said: 'Let's go'..."
"Where's my weapon? I also want a pistol."
"You don't need one."
"Then who is it for?"
"Who is who?"
"Well, Gagadin, who said 'let's go'."
"Not Gagadin, but Gagarin. A cosmonaut."
"And who is a cosmonaut?"
"A person who travels in space."
"And what is space?"
"The empty space between stars and planets."
"And why did he say 'let's go' if he's flying?"
"Just because. Enough! Tuss, give her the Browning. And a heavier one."
Tuss eagerly pulled out a heavy nine-millimeter pistol from the glove compartment, holding onto the steering wheel with one hand and keeping a laughing glance on the road, and put it onto Dina's lap.
I turned away from the window, watching the houses flash by outside.
"Do you even know how to shoot?"
"Of course, boss." The girl released the safety and pulled the trigger. With a proud smile, she added, "I was in a gang for three years!"
"It's not something to be proud of!"
She was in a gang! I grumbled to myself. Three years! Start by being proud of your first steps as a criminal.
"Stop! Stop!" cried Dina, causing Tuss to brake abruptly. Several horns honked indignantly from behind. At the end of the street, about three hundred meters away, stood the famous 'Singing Sirens' or 'Red Lobster' restaurant, known throughout Bridgeport. Built on piles, it sat a few meters below water level, like the buildings in Venice. Rising above the pier like a magical castle, it was dazzlingly white with terraces and balustrades where customers could eat in the fresh air, exposing their faces to the sea air. Such fresh, healthy air that whetted the appetite. At night, when the lights came on, it was wildly interesting and beautiful. But expensive. Very expensive. With my modest budget, I had no business being here. Only once was I invited here by Shania, for my birthday. Or rather, our anniversary. For some reason, she celebrated it solemnly, saying that it would replace my real birthday, which did not exist in the local calendar.
"What's wrong with you?" I turned to Dina.
"There are others like me. Two of them. One almost sensed us!"
Tuss and I exchanged glances. He shrugged, unsurprised. His appearance spoke for itself.
"Fall back," I commanded Tus. "Before they sense us completely."
I was feeling uneasy. Empathic telepaths always messed things up. They would identify us as a threat long before we even made direct contact with them. They would shoot us down before we even approached. This was why they needed a telepathic protector. I understood now why they had problems. And why they needed me. I was in the same position as they were before, trying to kill their target using my abilities for super-long-range and accurate shooting.
Think! How quickly would they react? A telepathic cry out for help and a dozen bodyguards would rush towards us, knowing exactly where the danger was coming from. But what if the telepath was absent? In the bathroom, for instance? Or asleep? No, that wouldn't work. How would I even know if that was the case, assuming they didn't have insurance for such an event?
I thought intensely, lost in my own thoughts. Dina and Tuss patiently waited for my decision.
"Can't you cover us?" I asked Dina. "Like you did at the university."
Dina looked at me like I was an idiot:
"Of course, I can. I can shield your emotions from them. But it's the same as wearing a sign on your forehead that says, 'I'm going to attack you,' so I've hidden myself."
"Will they feel your block?"
"What is a block?"
Damn! You lack education, kid.
"What will they feel?"
"Well, they'll feel two black spots and one big one, which covers those two, approaching the house. They won't think it's someone just walking by. So there's no difference. We could just as well start shooting from here and yell aloud that we're coming to kill them."
"Can't we approach as customers?"
Dina chuckled and replied even more sarcastically, "Well, you can pretend you want to eat human flesh. For camouflage. They say they serve it there too, by special order."
"What?"
"It's true, boss," Tuss interjected authoritatively. "Some Zingaru eat human liver. Rarely dwarves, usually from wizards. They believe they'll gain the magical power of humans by doing so."
I looked at both of them in shock.
"Did you know about this? And you didn't do anything?"
"What could I do?" Dinah said, offended. Tuss remained diplomatically silent, as he wasn't one to get involved.
"We should just bomb those damn cannibals to the ground! Where the hell are those bombers when we need them? B-52s, Tomahawks, anything! We need to democratize those freaks..."
I ranted for about ten minutes. Both of them listened silently to my outburst, with unfamiliar military terms thrown in.
Finally, I calmed down.
"Start the engine," I ordered Ronka.
"Where are we going?" Tuss asked as the engine obediently roared to life under the hood.
"For now, just as far away from here as possible. Something will come to mind on the way. I need an idea. A very good one. I'll pay a hundred bucks for an idea. And you," I turned to Dinah, "tell me about your gift. Everything! We need to figure out how to neutralize you. Or rather, those people at the restaurant."
Every trick must have its own method of treatment. That's how life always works, I thought with a sigh and a weak hope...
"Pars is missing," Rufus stunned me with this news. He looked agitated and worried about his friend's disappearance. He was dressed in all black as if he was already mourning his missing friend. The golden emblem of a mage was displayed on his cloak's clasp.
I nodded grimly, not knowing what to say. I silently gestured for him to take a walk with me.
"Where did he disappear?" I asked as we walked along the university campus fence. Dina followed closely, watching our surroundings like my bodyguard. She only lacked black sunglasses and a communication headset behind her ear to complete the image. I sent Tuss back to lie low again. I postponed the restaurant attack until I came up with a way to bypass the telepaths.
"On Rose Street," Rufus continued. "He was looking for the disenchanter who directed you to Kulu-Kulu. He sent me a message on the 'messenger' that he found the address you mentioned."
I nodded again. If I used deductive reasoning, it was both good and bad news. The conclusion was only one: there was no mysterious magical absurdity or ZUTANA with me. And the messenger is just a book of communication for wizards. Two notebooks are magically created through complex spells and manipulations: if you write something in one, the words automatically appear in the other, no matter where you are, even on the other side of the world.
"So it wasn't ZUTAN?" I asked almost affirmatively.
Rufus nodded. "Yes. Now I'm almost sure. Someone was waiting for him there. And someone gave you the newspaper with the announcement that wasn't in any other one of the same issue."
I was amazed at Rufus. He thought well and quickly. Good analytical skills. No wonder Ita praised him.
"Why go to such lengths?" I asked. "What did they want from me?"
"I don't know," Rufus hesitated. "There's something here that I don't know. Some detail to all of this..."
Good job, I mentally praised him. This is something to do with my earthly origin. And someone knew about it, directing me to Kulu and Ita, who, being telepaths, immediately cracked the nut.
Problems are piling up like an avalanche. Now we have to find Pars too," I said. "Damn! We're always one step behind our enemies.
"Who sold you the newspaper?" Rufus asked, just what I was thinking. His sharp mind, like a hound, followed events. He gets it, damn!
I closed my eyes and remembered him. About eleven-year-old boy. A red-haired carrier of newspapers with green eyes. A big burlap bag filled with a stack of fresh newspapers, a worn jacket, and short pants. I saw him spinning around me, shouting his 'sensations', just like the street newspaper carriers used to do on Earth hundred years ago. So, he had a newspaper prepared for me. Special. Why? What's the point of such a complex combination to lure me to the villa of a magical couple? Because it exists now. It's not some Zutan. They could have just invited me. Why not?
I described the boy's appearance.
"I'll find him," Rufus said. "There's only one place in this area where newspapers are distributed."
"That's unlikely to help. The kid was just doing someone's job. He earned a few coins. It's better to go to the villa."
Rufus looked at me in surprise. Then he was stunned:
"Oh, right. You don't know."
"What don't I know?" I asked, surprised.
"You won't find the villa. It's highly likely that it's enchanted, which is why you couldn't find it without a guide. Magicians may not be the most powerful fighters, but they know how to hide. You can't take that away from them."
"Wow! So that means the boy who was fishing wasn't a coincidence?"
"Of course not. He led you straight to the villa. Perhaps the boy was Kulu-Kulu himself in disguise, who led you through the magical barrier that was disguising the villa."
I stopped, stunned.
"I still don't understand! Why did they need you?" Rufus asked himself again. "What nonsense is this? You have zero magic! What's so special about you?"
I decided to distract him from this thought. I felt like a bit of a jerk for not telling him where I came from. The risk of him hating me was too great. One of the 'engineers' from that world, in person! It was too risky. Screw that!
"Listen. We will definitely find Pars, but first I need to attack a restaurant and capture a couple of Zingaru, preferably some important bigwigs for exchange. And the only place they're guaranteed to be is the 'Singing Sirens' restaurant in the port."
Rufus looked at me like I was crazy.
"I know it's pure madness," I continued. "But it's the only way to rescue Shania. And possibly Pars in case if he's captured by Harijan. I need some way to shield myself from telepaths. Some magic against it."
Rufus thoughtfully shook his head.
"Telepathy isn't actually magic. Or, more accurately, it's not entirely magic. Magic can stimulate it, but you can't shield yourself from it. That's why they use telepaths as bodyguards. If they could be deceived by magic, what would be the point of such protection?"
"Maybe something blocks it? Water, for example. Or metal, like a Faraday cage," I asked, not giving up, hoping for something useful. My imagination was already drawing me aluminum foil hats as the conspiracy theory freaks on Earth.
"I don't know what a Faraday cage is, Master Max, but there is no thick wall that would block or weaken the effect of telepathy. It's an omnipresent force. It weakens with distance, but completely independently of surrounding matter."
I groaned inwardly. Damn! What should I do? There must be a weakness. There must be! There is no such thing as perfect protection. No, I could kill them. From afar. As they wanted with the assassination. But how to attack and capture a couple of Zingaru alive, as hostages?
"Is it true that Zingaru eat the livers of mages?" I asked randomly, thinking about something completely different.
"No," Rufus categorically replied. "It's a rumor that circulates among... uh... not very educated people."
"Where does such confidence come from?"
"Because Zingaru are a cruel, but old and wise race. They don't suffer from any barbaric nonsense. They're too practical for that. I'll check about your problem in the university library, Max. But if there was anything about it, the Zingaru would already know it. They have been known for meticulous studies of such types."
I nodded, agreeing. There was nothing to cover.
"Alright. Let's meet in the evening at the same place, if that works for you. And don't go to that disappointment on Rose Street. I'll need three alive Zingaru for exchange. And I'm already afraid that I won't even be able to afford one," I said as a farewell.
Rufus shook his head in disagreement, either not agreeing with my attempt to dissuade him from further foolishness or with the meeting place
"No. We're not meeting at the university anymore. If Pars had been captured by Zingaru, he's already told them everything. It's too dangerous. Let's meet tomorrow evening at the 'Copper Golem.' It's a café on Sattler Street in the old city. I'll write down the address," he said, hastily writing the address on a crumpled piece of paper that he pulled out from under his coat. We said a brief goodbye, and I continued on with Dina.