“Cutting a Klein bottle down the middle, which would require passing your knife through the fourth dimension, would produce two mirror-image Möbius strips. And, probably a genie divided into two parts. Perhaps. No one can say for sure since no one has had the opportunity before to deal with such a construction. Equally possible, the genie and the vial instead might disappear into the higher plain of existence.
“If you don’t slice the bottle exactly in the middle, the results defy speculation. Shatter the container into forty or fifty pieces and you could end up with bits and pieces of the Afreet scattered throughout the universe. Or create four-dimensional sinkholes that would swallow nearby objects like black holes. In any case, the Afreet and plague virus would definitely not survive the separation.”
Hasan al-Sabbah howled in frustration. Loki grimaced. Nergal, Lord of the Lions, scratched his head in bewilderment. Boris Bronsky finished burning the last pages of Karsnov’s notes and strolled over to the baffled supernaturals.
“Why?” asked the Old Man of the Mountain despondently. “Why did you do this? Obviously, it took advance planning, You came here specifically to thwart my plans. What reason prompted The Man to order this punishment?”
“You pompous, overconfident moron,” snarled the Crouching One before Jack could launch into a lengthy discourse on the Old Man of the Mountain’s supposed infractions. “Haven’t you yet comprehended the truth? These two owe no allegiance to the one you fear. What proof did they offer? You accepted them on their word and they took advantage of your stupidity.”
“But,” said Hasan, confused, “if they are not associated with The Man, who are…”
“Mathematics,” spat out the Crouching One. “Deliberation and rationality. Face the facts, you incompetent executioner. He’s Jack Collins, the Logical Magician.”
Jack, knowing the time for pretense was finished, inclined his head in acknowledgment. “At your service. Assisted and abetted by the lethal Ms. Cassandra Cole.”
Hasan al-Sabbah’s bony fingers clenched into fists of rage. “The Collins figure my agents had been shadowing in Chicago the past few days?”
“A doppelganger, of course,” said Jack.
“The so-called Master of Treachery and Deceit deceived,” declared the Crouching One, more than a hint of mockery in its voice. “At least Dietrich von Bern didn’t provide food and lodging for his foe,” The demigod raised its hands skyward. “Why am I singularly cursed to be served by incompetents and fools?”
“Is goodt question,” replied Boris Bronsky.
The Russian had positioned himself between and slightly behind Loki’s twin frost giants. Reaching up with massive ham-sized hands, Bronsky grabbed the two leviathans by their outside ears and slammed their heads together. The crack of skulls echoed like a gunshot through the chamber. “You is not the only one who has complained about the same difficulty.”
Ponderously, the Russian stepped over the unconscious frost giants. “There is plenty of ineptitude close by,” continued Bronsky as he marched past a stunned Loki and joined Jack and Cassandra. “It is a common plague. People have suffered from its effects for thousands of years. If you could isolate and breed the germs responsible, you could conquer the world in a week. Maybe less.”
Boris grinned at Jack. “I did good, huh?”
“Exceptional,” said Jack. “I thought the extra touch with Loki’s bodyguards was inspired.”
“They forget sometimes,” said Boris, “that big, friendly bears have claws, too.”
Shaking his head in frustration, a distraught Old Man of the Mountain sank into the center of his obsidian throne. Arms folded in disgust, the Crouching One stared daggers at the Assassin overlord. Meanwhile, Loki walked around his helpless assistants, trying to kick them awake.
Jack glanced at Cassandra and winked. The minutes were slowly but surely passing. In the reasonably near future, the phone would ring, delivering a decisive blow to Hasan al-Sabbah. Jack was starting to think they might survive the evening without a single violent adventure.
“Well,” grumbled the Crouching One, “what steps are you planning to recover your lost honor? I assume you realize that if word of this fiasco becomes known, your business will drop to nothing. Nobody wants to hire an assassin so inept he wines and dines his worst enemies. And allows his genie to be trapped in a mathematical contraption.”
Hasan shifted uncomfortably on his throne. It was clear that Nergal’s criticisms stung his vanity. “The deeds are done,” said the Old Man of the Mountain. “How can I undo what has already taken place? The disaster is complete and cannot be repaired.”
“Kill them,” said the Crouching One. Jack cursed in annoyance. The ancient demigod was determined to rule the world. And it still considered eliminating a certain Logical Magician as the necessary first step in achieving its ambition. “That simple action would reverse your fortune.”
“I could smash the life out of them,” mused al-Sabbah, “Then claim that I decided to keep Karsnov’s formula for myself. The prestige of murdering Collins and acquiring the plague virus would bolster my sagging enterprises. No one would know I was lying.”
The Old Man of the Mountain shook his head. “Unfortunately, the deception disregards my most pressing predicament. My note to The Man comes due in less than a week. Unless that debt is paid in full, this entire plot remains meaningless.”
“How much is owed?” asked the Crouching One.
“A hundred and ten million,” said Hasan al-Sabbah. “Hell cost a great deal more than I anticipated.”
“I will pay that sum,” said the Lord of the Lions, “for the head of the Logical Magician. To be precise, only his head, neatly preserved in a metal box. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” said Hasan al-Sabbah, straightening in his chair. “We have a bargain. Though, if you don’t mind, we will dispense with the customary handshake sealing the agreement.”
“Understood,” said the Crouching One.
Beaming with good cheer, Hasan al-Sabbah whistled.
“No worries,” said Boris Bronsky to Jack. “Me and the young lady, we defend you from these three repulsive fellows. Even if they wake up the two albinos, I don’t think we have much trouble.”
“It’s not them who worry me,” said Jack. A dozen hidden doors had opened in response to the Old Man of the Mountain’s signal. Shambling out of them came a horde of seven-foot ghuls. “Those guys are the problem.”
40
“You’re making a big mistake,” shouted Jack at the Old Man of the Mountain, as the ghuls filled the chamber. He counted nearly thirty of the monsters. Cassandra was a one-woman army, but not even Hercules could defeat a supernatural army of this size. “I’m not joking. Remember Dietrich von Bern. He underestimated me, too. Mess with the Logical Magician and you’ll be sorry.”
“Will I?” laughed Hasan al-Sabbah. “Somehow I doubt that. You deprived me of my Afreet, Mr. Collins. I think it only fair I take your life in exchange.”
A flutter of wings, a gust of wind, and Hugo landed on Jack’s left shoulder. “Sorry I skipped out after the chase,” said the bird, “but I decided to check on Mongo’s progress. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”
“This and that,” said Jack. “We trapped the Afreet in the Klein bottle. Nergal guessed our true identities. And Hasan al-Sabbah decided to accept the demigod’s offer of a hundred ten million bucks to flatten me, Cassandra, and Boris Bronsky into pancakes. That covers the high points.”
On the Amazon’s advice, they had retreated, taking the bottle and Jack’s airline bag, to the far wall. It prevented them from being surrounded. Unfortunately, there were now enough ghuls present in the chamber to crush them to death by sheer force of numbers.