Authors: Scott V. Duff
That explained the extra wiring around the music rooms and why the closets seemed excessive on the second floor. This was starting to look good, but it would be a lot of work. Of course, I did have a lot of talented people standing around right now.
“Your uncle certainly had interesting ideas of what to do to a house,” I said as we landed in the foyer again. “A lot of different styles everywhere.” Plastering a huge grin on my face, it was time to take a little light-hearted jab at my brother. “Peter, since you’ve banned me from the fuse box and the basement is the only area left, I’ll just wander around in back while y’all finish looking around.”
“Okay, Seth,” Peter answered, rolling with it but suspicious. “Shouldn’t take but a few minutes to check out the utilities connections.” When my grin grew wider, he knew he was in trouble, but I disappeared down the hall too quickly for him to object. Jimmy wanted to follow me, but I wanted him with Peter and Dillon, just in case.
The patio and small garden in the back was in as good a shape as the front porches, provincial and modest until the statuary. I didn’t understand Dillon’s reference to Hindu in that regard. It didn’t look particularly Indian to me, more Tom of Finland, which I thought a bit strange that I knew that, but the Guards’ knowledge was more varied than I expected.
Easing Daybreak out, I sought the edges of the property lines. It wasn’t hard to differentiate the neighboring farmland from this one—they were tended. A lot of repair work on the fences was required. And Uncle Max stockpiled CDs in a few more buildings than they knew about. The more I saw of the hills surrounding us the more I liked the situation here. Fairly secluded from the city but less than an hour’s drive and the roads were reasonably new. We could probably bribe most of the neighboring farmers into complacency about deliveries to the warehouse by letting them stretch over onto the property and keep the bounty for themselves. I could even offer contracts to that affect.
Magically, the area was pretty dull. No major ley lines passed through the property but there were a few nearby that would support those that needed it. I could always plant a few lodestones, if push came to shove, and start a cycle over the house or something.
I pulled out my cell phone and called our New York attorneys for a recommendation to a London solicitor. After speaking with a junior partner for fifteen minutes and giving him specifics on what I needed, he promised to have a reputable attorney return my call within a half-hour. I hopped onto a rail to enjoy the bug noises in the dusk as they called to each other. Flood lights on the house and several garden lights popped into existence about ten minutes later, so Peter must have figured out the power system finally.
“Damn, it’s hot down there,” Dillon complained, leading the way onto the patio. Peter was directly behind him and headed determinedly for me.
Leaning on the rail I sat on, he said with great confidence, “You… are a bastard.” I started howling, looking to see him covered in dust and grime. He grinned at me as he shook the dust off in my direction as if the breeze would dump it onto me. “And we’ve been here forever. You like this place.”
“Eh, more like it’s the best of our best three choices,” I said, trying to be noncommittal. “It’ll come down to price, I think. I’m
not
paying their asking price, that’s outrageous, especially considering the condition and size of the house. Maybe if they paid for the renovations to our specifications, including some gold-plated doorknobs. Thompson will have to come down considerably, but I think he will.”
Edmington’s cell phone chimed in his pocket. Excusing himself from the table where everyone else had gathered, he stepped into the house to take the call. Mine rang a few moments later from an unknown number, putting Peter immediately on edge.
“Pete, calm down,” I said and answered the call.
“Mr. McClure?” the man asked. “My name is Ryan Davis of Hilliard Brothers of London. Seymour Steadman of New York referred me to you regarding a Real Estate emergency?”
Laughing I said, “I don’t think I’d call it an emergency, exactly, Mr. Davis, just that we need to move quickly for many different reasons and are in need of a legal agent since we’re not exactly well versed on English law. As a group, we’re American, mostly from the US. And since our legal needs literally exploded in the US, I expect the same will be true here.”
Davis chuckled lightly in a low tenor. “Seymour implied that this might be a test against future billings, yes. I am willing to make preparations on the property he’s described in your name as he’s requested, but you must understand that I can’t sign anything that promises or binds to any kind of monetary payment to a voice on a phone.”
“Prudent,” I agreed. “Can you have contracts available by tomorrow, say one o’clock? I realize it’s terribly inconvenient, but that is why we pay for the best. I will provide an advance on services rendered and accounts to draw on should the purchase occur. I’ll have similar documents for you to sign regarding accountability on those accounts.”
“Prudent, Mr. McClure,” he agreed. “And one o’clock is certainly enough time.” He gave me his office address and we disconnected.
“We have a solicitor now,” I said to Peter lightly and started programming my phone with his name.
“Really? Which firm?” Dillon asked from the table. Gossipy as he was, he probably knew a person or two on the bar. It might be worth hearing if he knows anything about them.
“Mr. Davis mentioned the Hilliard Brothers of London,” I said, lifting myself off the concrete rail and swinging my legs back over to lean like Peter. “Nice enough fellow, seemed kind of young.
“You got Ryan Davis of Hilliard’s? To call you?” he asked. “Why am I surprised? You don’t do small.”
“Yes, he does,” Jimmy disagreed, chuckling. “He just does a lot of them.” Dillon and he shared a chuckle for a moment, earning them both a short glare from us. Thompson just watched in confusion, but luckily for him, Edmington chose that time to return.
“That was an interesting phone call,” he told Thompson with a small smile. “It seems we have a bid on the house from an American company.”
“What? But we haven’t shown it or anything,” said a shocked Thompson.
“Actually, I think we just did,” Edmington said, looking at me. “I suppose Mr. Davis’ office is representing you?”
“And apparently responding very quickly,” I said nodding and impressed, as I was supposed to be, but it’s possible Davis didn’t know I was still there. “We’ll provide you with a written bid by tomorrow along with a list of our considerations in making that number. I trust Mr. Davis or his associate made some of those points known? There was so little time during my conversation with my attorney in New York.”
“His associate made several,” Edmington said seriously, trying to take a lighter tone. “Even added a few himself, I’d say. I hadn’t thought any of you were paying that kind of attention to detail. Ken and I will discuss it.”
“That’s all we can ask,” I said. “We should be going.”
“Ah, man! I don’t get to run through the woods?” Jimmy whined.
“This is what happens when you take hillbillies out of the hills,” Peter said grinning.
“Tell you what, Jimmy, if we have to make a second bid against their counteroffer, we’ll come in with a survey crew and a housing inspector for a proper estimate.” I consoled him with bribes now and wielded petty threats at the same time, how very Fae of me. Peter swatted me in the side but Jimmy jumped from the table excitedly, expecting them to turn the offer down. I felt it was a fair offer and from what I got from Edmington, so did he, but it didn’t feel right to press in on him to see more than a vague emotion.
“Come on, Dillon, I promised you dinner for driving,” Peter said, extending his hand to Thompson in the process, he continued, “Ken, Geoffrey, a pleasure and a fascinating tour. Your uncle was an interesting person who led a curiously disturbing life. We can only hope he was happy.” Thompson laughed without knowing why, but believing Peter completely and taking some joy from it. We followed Peter out through the house, shaking hands and saying good-byes with both men. Dillon got off the parting shot.
“Don’t be too hard on yourselves, gents,” Dillon said smoothly. “Those two are dangerously disarming together. Separately, they’re just dangerous. You never had a chance.”
“Dillon!” I shouted impatiently down the hall, more to cover Jimmy’s snickering and stifle my own than to rush him. He trotted in behind Jimmy, laughing at his own joke.
“I’m gonna get that printed on the back of their calling cards!” Jimmy whispered to Dillon as they bounded down the steps together. “I have a craving for ribs. You guys have a place to get a slab of BBQ pork ribs?”
“You start that stupid song and I’ll strand you in New Mexico,” I warned him, shrugging off my jacket. I didn’t need a TV commercial going through my head all night. “I would prefer it if we could arrange something that is close to or passes by 712 Deighton Road.”
“Bishop’s office?” Peter asked as Dillon consulted a London map. “Why do you want to look for that?”
“Seems my new solicitor is on the same road several blocks down. I thought it might be a good idea to take a look at it before dropping by in the morning,” I said.
“That does seem a bit coincidental,” Peter agreed.
“Even more puzzling, though,” Dillon said, looking up from his map. “Deighton Road starts at twelve hundred.”
“This should be an interesting drive, then,” Peter said cheerfully.
~ ~ ~
Deighton Road led us through a merry chase of gated communities where the average income was at least a million a year. Dillon entered the road at the two thousand block and wound down until, precisely as he predicted, it ended at 1202 at a rather large intersection as it curved back into London again. It was an ice cream shop on one side of the street and a plumbing supplier on the other, both facing the intersection, though they officially sat on Deighton.
Dillon pulled the car to the curb and we piled out, staring at what should have been the rest of the road. Traffic against us was light, so Peter and I trotted over the four lanes to have a closer look. We still didn’t see so much as an alley that continued on, but we both felt like it should. We were giving up when Peter tripped on the curb walking back to the car. Our reflexes were too good to make it embarrassing. He caught my arm before he could fall.
“What did I just trip on?” he asked, looking at the ground.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t looking,” I said, absently, still looking at the closed storefronts for clues. “I assumed that was the problem.”
“Seth, there’s a driveway here,” Peter said, peering at the sidewalk through slitted eyes. Looking where Peter pointed, I pushed my senses down into the foam of reality and found the hard matter of the driveway he saw, and then the magic overlay of the sidewalk that sat on top of it, the one he stepped partially through when it phase-shifted with the spell that locked it in place. A minor flaw, but an important one that allowed us to see the façade for what it was.
Peter moved to the jewelry shop ahead of me as I followed the driveway, the façade’s spellwork showing in the glittering underworld of magic clearly now that I knew what to look for. An earth binding, a magnetic resonance held in check by the buildings around them. Delicately and cleverly done over at least two blocks.
“For a shop showing expensive jewelry, it’s not terribly secure, is it?” Peter asked, looking at the four-inch gap between the bottom of the front wall and the road.
“No,” I agreed with a small laugh. “But there can’t be too many criminals around who’d try to lift a building to get to the vault regardless of how pretty the bauble.”
“A modest proposal,” Peter said lightly. “If we act swiftly…” I groaned loudly at the pun while he squatted and pushed both hands into the gap. Then pushing hard with his legs, he lifted the jewelry store slowly straight up. I burst into laughter.
“Mighty Peter! Abs of Steel!” I barely managed through the laughing, wiping away tears. Jimmy and Dillon came running up behind us in shock at Peter’s display of strength.
“You could have brought the car,” Peter grunted at them. They both tore back across the street without a word. I placed a column of Stone energy on one side so Peter could let go.
“Jimmy’ll figure out you were showing off, y’know,” I warned him, still highly amused. The alley behind the jewelry store façade was a pristine road wide enough for a large truck plus a foot on both sides. No trash bins of any kind lined the gray brick walls, also devoid of graffiti. “You want me to ask him to be quiet for awhile?”
“Nah, I’ll come clean,” Peter said, walking down the alley with me as Dillon pulled under the three-foot thick construct. To Dillon from this side, it looked like a fibrous, thick, and slightly glowing wall of resin floating in the air. It still made him nervous to drive under, not that I could blame him. “Should we send Dillon home?”
“I’ll ask him if you want, but this doesn’t seem dangerous, just odd,” I said, taking the responsibility for him. “Besides, he has his key and any of us can trigger it for him. Or didn’t I mention that?”
“No, you didn’t. Is that any key?” he asked, searching at roof level.
“I suppose that would depend on how well you know the person,” I explained, watching several different planes around us. “You have to be able to get past the lock, after all. You know we’re the only ones who can see equally into all of them, right?”