Hazardous Goods (Arcane Transport) (7 page)

“I was thinking about this new job of yours. Let’s see... Your boss has a heart attack on your first day of work, and you were robbed at gunpoint by some goon who hangs around with the rich and powerful. You just don’t pay attention to hints, do you?”

I tried to ignore Ted’s usual enthusiasm.

“Clay’s a good guy. This could work out real well.”

“Are you forgetting who got you this job?”

So true. My number one concern about Arcane was the fact that my mother was close to Clay and Harper. In fact, she had spent more time talking to Clay in the week prior to my first day than I had.

“Did you even check this guy out?”

Sure I had. I was going into partnership with the guy. But I could tell Ted wasn’t going to let this go. For him, the Internet was the root source of valid information worldwide, never mind that the latest hot stock tip came from a pizza delivery guy in Winnipeg, typing a blog in his basement. In his underwear.

So I decided to humor the idiot.

I moved over to the desk, pulled up a browser, typed in “Arcane Transport” and hit return. Up popped the results – 1 of 10 of about 117. Not much, but at least someone had heard of them. Fact was, I knew Clay had no real presence on-line – it was one of my priorities for the coming months.

At that moment a chunk of greasy pastry dropped onto the keyboard.

“Watch the crumbs, man.”

Ted stood behind me, watching over my shoulder and munching a croissant. I tried to pry the flakes from between the U and the Y, but only managed to work them further into the bowels of the keyboard.

“Put it in your mouth, fathead.”

“There’s the website. Second one down.”

I double-clicked and the screen faded away, morphing into a black page with the name “Arcane Transport”, the company logo, address, phone number and the words “Premium Courier for Unusual Goods. Est. 1975.”

“Click on the name.”

“Nah. That’s all they’ve got – just the introduction screen.”

“Kinda sucks.”

Another clump of croissant fell, this time right down the back of my shirt. It felt like a moist lump of butter had dropped smack between my shoulder blades.

“Would you bug off!”

“Jeez. Lighten up.”

“
Just eat
the goddamned thing. Don’t spray it on me, don’t drop it on the keyboard, don’t leave crumbs all over the floor. Got it?”

He mumbled. “Sorry for living.”

I hit the back button, then tried the first item on the list. This one was a chat thread. A local forum, chatcentral.ca. The thread was Occult – Shopping.

“What’s this?” Ted leaned in to give it a read.

Anyone know of a reliable delivery service in town? I just sold a double-headed axe to a guy in Oshawa, but he wants it tomorrow and I don’t have a car.

Mitch (Fantasy Blades)

Hey Mitch. You might try Arcane Transport. They’re in the phone book. Very dependable. Is it an enchanted blade, or for simple rituals?

Azure Helen

I modeled it after one of the axes used by the dwarf in Lord of the Rings. It’s got a great leather grip.

Mitch

Might want to try FedEx.

AH.

“What’s that all about?”

Ted must have been finished with the croissant, since his question wasn’t accompanied by a rain of pastry crumbs.

“Haven’t figured it out yet?”

I checked three other websites, all of them standard phone-book type listings. The next site was for a bookstore, Northern Sanctuary. Clay and I had picked up a package from them on Monday. The shipping link said “All deliveries through Arcane Transport – Premium Courier for Unusual Goods.”

Then I flipped to
their
home page. Northern Sanctuary, your source for books on the occult. There were links for black magick, Celtic magick, druidic magick, sex magick, and so on. I had no idea why they spelled magic with a k, though I was already a supporter of their store, since I am a firm believer in the magical properties of sex.

“Okaaaaay. Donnie’s working for the Hogwarts FedEx. With a bunch of
loonies
.”

I nodded my head, saying nothing. God knows, Ted could well be right. Either way, I resolved to do some reading about the occult, if for no other reason than to be able to understand Arcane’s customers. In the meanwhile, I was going to do some thinking about Niki the Bull, and his friend Maxim Legenko. Something told me our paths would cross again very soon.

I didn’t have much of a chance to consider the relationship between Maxim Legenko and Niki the Bull during my next two days on the job. Wednesday was “drive like hell” day. And on Thursday, I didn’t even make it out of the office before trouble showed up.

Kara paged me as I was stocking the van with the morning deliveries.

“Donnie, there are some visitors at Reception for you.”

The tone in her voice told me that something was up, so I grabbed the phone off the wall and buzzed her.

“Hey, it’s me. What’s up?”

“The guys from BOA are here.”

“Who?”

“Sure. I’ll ask them to take a seat in the conference room.”

The line went dead, and I stared at it.
Something
was going on. BOA? Where had I heard that before?

A moment later, Kara stood in front of me.

“Who are these guys?”

“BOA. Bureau for Occult Activities. Kind of a cross between Neighborhood Watch and the Guardian Angels. Volunteer police force for the paranormal community.”

“OK, and they’re here because... ?”

“No idea. But they can be a pushy bunch, so I thought you should be warned.”

“Thanks. How did Clay get along with them?”

“Well, he didn’t like them and I think they knew it, but he cooperated with them. Clay felt they could be of some use from time to time.”

“Well, let’s go see what’s on their minds. Uh, one thing—.”

She smiled, bringing out the matching dimples in her cheeks. I felt a ridiculous grin cross my own face, like some love-sick teen.

“I’ll give them ten minutes, max, then I’ll interrupt and say you have to deal with an emergency.”

“Thanks.”

I grabbed a few of my business cards, then followed Kara out to the front. I tried not to focus on the sway of her backside.

She introduced me to two members of BOA, a wiry fellow by the name of Switzer, and a stern looking woman named Candice.

The three of us took seats in the conference room, Kara placing several bottles of chilled water on the table. I nodded at her, exchanging a glance, and she closed the door as she left the room.

“So, how can I help you folks?”

“Mr.—,” Spitzer glanced at my newly minted card. “Elder. Thanks for meeting with us.”

I nodded, waiting to hear what was on their minds.

“OK. Has anyone told you about our group, or our activities?”

“Not really, no.”

Switzer launched into a rehearsed script. “BOA was formed in 1927 by a bookstore owner in San Francisco. At the time, it was like Neighborhood Watch. Community members working together. Over time it evolved into what it is now – a volunteer organization that patrols communities to ensure that any activities involving the use of magic are monitored. Where we consider someone’s activities to be a threat to the Paranormal community as a whole, we step in.”

“How do you do that?”

“Think of it like a citizen’s arrest.”

“So you’ve expanded from San Francisco to Toronto?”

“And New York, Chicago, London, Paris, Tokyo, Shanghai. We also have new offices in Las Vegas and Orlando, Florida.”

The last one made sense. Need to ensure that Mickey and Goofy aren’t calling on the forces of evil.

“All of you wear the same uniform?” I nodded at their outfits – grey and white camo anoraks, black military-style pants (the ones with countless pockets in weird places), and black combat boots.

“Yup. With the BOA crest on the armband or chest pocket.”

OK
. I had a feeling Mr. Spitzer here had earned his Master Geek Merit Badge to go with that BOA crest.

“So.” One more time, I thought. “How can I help you folks?”

“Well,” Spitzer’s colleague flipped through her note pad. “We had a report that on Monday evening a package containing a Class 2 Restricted device was taken from your possession at 150 King Street West in Toronto. Is that correct?”

“Not sure what you mean by a Class 2 device, but yes, Clay Jarvis and I were mugged on Monday night. How did you know that?”

She ignored me, continuing to look down at her notes.

“We understand no report was filed with the Mundane authorities.”

“Presuming that means the cops, that is correct.”

“Your colleague Mr. Jarvis was injured in the attack?”

“He had a heart attack.” I paused, but there was no reaction. “He’s resting and it looks like he’ll be OK.”

That got her to lift her head for a moment. Then she went right back to the notebook.

“This device was collected from the offices of Sun Consulting just a few moments earlier?”

I mulled that over for a moment.

“I can’t comment on that. The identity of our customers and any information relating to them is confidential.”

That seemed to catch Spitzer’s attention, and he turned from the window to face me.

“This was a violent crime, Mr. Elder. The sort of thing that might result in someone being killed next time around. Are you saying that you’re unwilling to help us investigate this matter?”

I took a deep breath, leaning back in my chair. This had turned confrontational awfully quickly.

“No. But I would hazard a guess that we have never given that type of information to you in the past, and I don’t intend to start now. If you want me to describe the mugger, I am happy to do so. He even gave me his name. But any details regarding our customers or their businesses are off limits.”

Spitzer shifted forward, resting his hands on the table and leaning towards me, apparently intent on building the drama.

“It doesn’t concern you that a Class 2 Restricted device was stolen from your possession, and someone could right now be using it to devastating consequences in our city?”

“If I knew what a Class 2 Restricted device was, it might.”

I held his stare, willing to bet there was no such thing as a Class 2 Restricted device. And Switzer’s “devastating consequences” comment was at serious odds to Helen Findlay’s description. These BOA guys had probably been stonewalled by Clay in the past and were hoping to slide one by the new guy.

“Class 2 is a magical device or talisman. Class 1 mixing agent, Class 3 spell – we can get you a copy of the classifications if you like. Each Class is categorized Inert, Non-restricted, Restricted and Prohibited. Restricted means that you are required to advise us in the event the device is lost or stolen.”

OK, so I was wrong. The guy was still a dick.

“This is some sort of government legislation?”

“No. These are classifications developed by BOA working together with leading practitioners.”

I snorted. Leading practitioners? Who were they? The Amazing Kreskin and Criss Angel?

“OK. Thanks.”

He stared. She stared. I fiddled with the pen in my hands. They stared. I unscrewed the pen top and began to lay the innards out on the table. Spring, ink sleeve, some plastic doohickey. Part of me was debating telling them about the possible relationship to Legenko, but it still seemed too thin. Besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted these two “crack investigators” on the case.

“I take it you are unwilling to cooperate with our enquiry?”

“Well, let’s say I will think about it. Do you have business cards in case I need to reach you?”

Both of them slid over their cards, fancy embossed plastic cards with their names, phone numbers and e-mail addresses. No office address.

“Let me ask Kara to see you out.”

Switzer stared at me for a moment, then gestured to his colleague. I waited until they were halfway out the door before calling to them.

“Did you want the name of the mugger?”

The two of them turned.

“Niki Kuzmenko. Calls himself the Bull.”

Both of them turned away and stepped out into the cool May air. I watched them climb into their car – a Range Rover, of all things – and considered the fact that neither of them had written down Kuzmenko’s name.

My mind was spinning. How had they even heard of the mugging, and what was with the attitude? Weirdness prevailed.

“How was it?” I turned to see Kara holding the door open for me.

“Oh, it was great. Just like my last visit to the dentist.”

That brought forth a smile.

“By the way, what the heck is a divination device? I thought the folks at Sun said it was some kind of dowsing thing. Isn’t that like a fire hose, or something?”

“Fire hose?”

A little off base, apparently.

“Device? Is that what they called it? Well, it could be anything. Cards, runes, Ouija board, crystal ball—.”

I suspect my cynicism was quite apparent.

“Hey, I didn’t make this stuff up.”

“So the Sun Consulting guys were using us to ship something that could be used to tell the
future
?”

“Or whether your girlfriend is cheating on you. Where you left your watch that morning. People use them to answer questions, sometimes locate things.”

That jibed with Helen Findlay’s comments earlier in the week.

“Hmph. Can you use them for
anything
?”

“No, not that I know of. A restricted Class 2 device would be pretty powerful, though. Think of it like accuracy. Prohibited devices are the most accurate. I think Clay said he had seen a set of rune stones once that were supposed to be accurate 99.9% of the time.”

“Cool. Great for lotto tickets.”

“No kidding.”

The day had just started and I was already behind.

As if things weren’t bad enough, Jamar was three hours late getting in. By lunch time I felt like I had seen most of Southern Ontario, just trying to keep up.