Stifling the last few twinges of guilt, Jack flagged down a cab. One of the prerequisites of saving the world, he decided, was staying healthy long enough to get the job done. And if that meant spending some money not his own on a few luxuries, so be it.
Settling back in the backseat of the taxi, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone he knew said he spent too much time making decisions. He had to admit they were probably right. On the other hand, it might be the reason Merlin hired him.
“Ain’t it somethin’ about those girls disappearin’ in the Loop?” the cabdriver asked, breaking through Jack’s reverie. “Real mystery, huh?”
“Sure,” Jack answered, his mind on other things. Then, the meaning of the words gradually sank into his consciousness. “Exactly what disappearances are you talking about?”
“Been talking about it on da radio all day,” said the driver. “Big story. Surprised you ain’t heard the news.”
“Too busy working, I guess,” said Jack. “Tell me all about it.”
“Seems dat bunches of women, office workers mostly, been vanishin’ from Loop buildings durin’ the past week. Police been trying to keep the story quiet, but one of the relatives squawked to the news. Caught the cops with their pants down. I heard the chief of police three times today, claiming they expected a big break in the case anytime now. You know what dat means. They ain’t got a clue what’s happenin’.”
“Bunches of women? Disappearing?” asked Jack, frowning. He wondered if the story tied in some way with Merlin and Megan’s kidnapping. A cold chill ran down his spine. Coincidence only stretched so far.
“Forty or fifty of them, according to the radio. Missin’ without a trace from offices all over the Loop. They just vanish—leavin’ work, goin’ ta the ladies room, comin’ back from lunch. It’s damned spooky.”
“Only women?” asked Jack.
“You got it, boss. Just babes. Funny thing, though. Ain’t only the good-looking ones missin’. According to the news, the dames range in age from twenty to sixty. No ransom notes, no dead bodies, no nothing turned up as of yet. Watcha think? White slavers or somebody like dat? Grabbing the women and shipping them overseas or somethin’? Maybe dose rich Arab sheiks are behind the whole t’ing?”
“I don’t know,” said Jack. Nor did he. “I truly don’t know.”
Jack grimaced in frustration. It seemed safe to assume that Merlin’s kidnapers were the same gang behind the other abductions in the Loop. But, if the police, with all of their resources and manpower, were baffled by the crimes, how could he expect to solve the mystery? He was a mathematician, not a detective.
I guess if I’m going to save the world, he thought to himself, I’ll have to be both.
Somehow the thousand-dollars-a-week salary Merlin mentioned no longer seemed that outrageous. Jack had a feeling that before too long he would be feeling underpaid.
5
With a curse, Roger Quinn slammed down the telephone. Life was bad enough these days serving a bloodthirsty demigod without having to deal with incompetent employees. Sometimes he wondered how the world continued to function as well as it did. He paused for a second, then decided he had answered his own question.
For years, he had known that most people were incredibly inept. Now, to his dismay, he was learning that the denizens of the supernatural plane were no better. If anything, considering the fact that they were creations of mankind’s dreams and desires, they performed even worse than their makers. Grinding his teeth in annoyance, Roger set off to find his master, the Crouching One, Lord of the Lions. He shuddered to think of the demigod’s reaction to the news. There would be hell to pay. Literally.
As usual, Roger found the Crouching One in the library, scanning another volume of the encyclopedia. The ancient god had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and could absorb information at an incredible rate. In the past month, it had gone through dozens of history and anthropology texts, and now was working its way through Roger’s reference shelf. Needing neither sleep nor food, the demigod spent all of its time reading or scheming to take over the world. It did not like being disturbed while involved in either activity.
Dressed conservatively in a dark wool suit, black tie and white shirt, the Lord of the Lions appeared to be nothing more than a distinguished elderly gentleman. It seemed remarkably unremarkable, until you saw its eyes. They glowed startling yellow with an inner fire. On its infrequent trips from the mansion, the demigod wore dark glasses.
“Yes?” it hissed, clearly not pleased by his presence. “What do you want?”
“The call came in from Chicago,” said Roger nervously. “They got the girl. And her father too.”
The demigod’s eyes blazed a little brighter. It nodded, looking pleased. “Exactly as I planned. I told you nothing could go wrong. The modern world cannot cope with ancient sorcery.”
The Crouching One waved one hand in dismissal. “Now, go, and leave me alone. I do not like being disturbed while I am reading.”
Licking his lips, Roger cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m afraid that wasn’t all the news.”
“What do you mean?” No mistaking the creature for human now. Its voice was like ice. “Tell me.”
“When the Border Redcaps broke into Merlin’s office, there was another person there. A human.”
“So?” said the Crouching One. “That was nothing surprising. You told me the magician was a seer. That he was meeting with a client is no concern of ours.”
Roger exhaled, his eyes gaze flickering around the room, trying to avoid the yellow glare of the demigod’s eyes. “At the time, the Redcaps thought the same thing. They knocked the man unconscious and left him there. They had specific orders not to kill anyone unless absolutely necessary.”
Blue flames crackled above the Lord of the Lions’s brow. “Enough wasting time. Get to the point.”
“The visitor never reported the attack to the police. Nothing unusual in that. Most people don’t like to get involved if they can avoid it. But, according to our spies, he questioned both the guard in the lobby and a news vendor outside the building about the Redcaps.” Roger’s voice cracked as he reached the point of no return. “And, we’ve since learned that he’s carrying a talisman of great power.”
“A talisman,” said the Crouching One, its voice a bare whisper. “The magician gave him an enchanted token. You are sure of this fact?”
Roger nodded glumly. “He’s displayed it four times already. We’re not sure exactly what it did, but each time it was used, the charm emitted a powerful burst of magic. Our sensitives recognized the discharge immediately.”
“A lone man, armed with a talisman,” said the Lord of the Lions, sounding curious. And slightly worried. “You think the old wizard summoned him to stop us?”
“I’m not the god here,” said Roger stiffly. “You’re the one who answers all the questions.” His tone left no doubt what he thought of that arrangement. “I do remember you telling me that every time a challenge to order arises, so does a champion of the status quo. This guy could be the opposition.”
“Quite possible,” said the Crouching One. “Did the Huntsman question the magician, or his daughter?”
“That’s not been possible,” said Roger. “They’ve been unconscious since their abduction. Despite all attempts to wake them, the pair have remained asleep. Von Bern suspects a reflexive spell, one that takes effect immediately on captivity. It prevents the prisoners from revealing any secrets. And, torture is singularly ineffective when the victim is comatose.”