The Scarlet Crane: Transition Magic Book One (The Transition Magic Series 1) (20 page)

“The PIs we hired to watch over us should be on the job already,” Stony said. “Haven’t seen them and don’t expect to.”

“When will surveillance begin on the import companies?” John asked.

“Dunno,” Stony said. “Depends on how fast Heinrich can pull information about the owners. He promised no later than tomorrow morning.”

Stony’s cell broke the quiet of the park. She pulled the phone from her pocket, glanced at the display, and accepted the call. “Yes?”

She listened for a couple of minutes and disconnected. “We meet Heinrich at his office at noon tomorrow. Sounds like his information matches what you found, Dish. There’s only one Heritage Trading. Owned by a Miss Victoria Upland. No employees of record. His people have her under surveillance and are on their way to bug her home.”

“Heinrich say anything about us being followed?”

“They’ve seen nothing. So far.”

* * *

John returned to the American Consulate at ten the following morning and called Marva. She took the call alone.

She’s cutting Akina out of the loop.

“Morning, John. What’s your status?”

“We’re having a little trouble identifying the Heritage Trading owners. I figure we’ll get that done today. Then we’ll set a time to meet, conduct standard interviews as you ordered, and head home.”

“What did you tell Stony?”

“About all I could tell her. For reasons above her pay grade, we can’t put pressure on the Heritage guys. She was frustrated, but fell in line.”

“Good job, Dish.”

“Marva, one last time. Turn us loose on this. It’s too important to sweep under the rug.”

She’ll expect me to try.

She appeared saddened, like she’d just learned her new puppy had been run over. “No, John. Don’t ask again.”

“I’m disappointed, Director. I never thought you’d give me such bullshit orders.”

“I want you out of Switzerland by Thursday or Friday at the latest.”

“Huh uh. Bad enough you’ve castrated this investigation. I’m not leaving until I conduct the interviews. Unless you’re ordering me to shut everything down. In which case, you have my resignation and we’ll leave tomorrow.”

She won’t shut us down. The record has to show that we hit a dead end.

“Give me a date, Senior Agent. Don’t worry about quitting, because I’ll fire you if you persist with this insubordination.”

John paused as if he was thinking. “We’ll be back to D.C. next Tuesday, a week from today.”

Marva frowned and shook her head. “The weekend is worthless except for travel. Be here Monday.” The display went dark.

If she’s working against us, Heinrich’s guys will pick up a tail in the next few hours. We’re across the Rubicon.

* * *

John and Stony were sitting in EuroDetectiv’s main conference room at eleven fifty when Heinrich swept into the room, shoving the door shut behind him. He looked like a sober Boris Yeltsin—big and strong, with thick gray hair combed into a pompadour. He carried a thin red folder.

He embraced John in a fierce bear hug. “Welcome, my friend. Time is treating you well, well.” Heinrich repeated words; not a stutter, but a habit, like a high performance car reluctant to shut down.

“You haven’t aged a day, Heinrich.”

Heinrich laughed and sat across from them. “Aging is for pussies, Dish. Pussies. Shall we do business?”

“I appreciate that you haven’t had much time,” John said, “but we’re anxious to hear what you’ve learned.”

Heinrich smiled. “Two things you know already, already. There’s one Heritage Trading, run by an older woman, a Miss Upland.”

John nodded. “I scouted her store yesterday and met her. Hard for me to imagine she’s anything but a bibliophile.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, John,” Heinrich said. “Her retail operation conceals a—”

The door opened. A cadaverous Asian man floated over to Heinrich, bent and whispered into his ear. Heinrich frowned, nodded. The agent left, closing the door softly.

Heinrich resumed. “The retail store is a front. The Zurich Canton police have been watching her for more than a year. Heritage is an import-export business, yes, yes. But for drugs and stolen artifacts. And, based on what Stony told me, stolen children.”

“Your bugs get anything?” Stony asked.

He shook his head. “I have a contact inside the police department and my information comes from him. We didn’t try to place any devices in her home because the police, police have already done that.”

“Makes sense,” Stony said. “Where’s her base? Can’t be the bookstore.”

“Two warehouses on the outskirts of the city.” His voice dropped. “You must take care. She employs several thugs to run the daily business. The police don’t have enough evidence for an arrest, but they believe she’s had more than one competitor murdered. Ice picks, ice picks, in the eyes and ears.”

“I need a special favor, Heinrich,” John said. “Can you get her into a room where we can talk with her? She has information critical to our investigation.”

Heinrich stared at John, eyes unblinking under his bushy gray eyebrows. After a minute, he said, “You neglected to mention that you’re operating on your own and that your agency is looking for you.”

“Plausible deniability if you’re questioned,” John said.

“That’s no longer possible. You’ve acquired a tail. Three men are watching the building. Zurich is a small town and we know these men. One of my guys wandered out and asked what was going on. They have a contract to follow you and report your activities. Worse, the DTS put the word out that no one is to assist you.”

John sighed. “I’ll understand if you decide that you can’t help us.”

Heinrich rose and circled to their side of the table, pulling a chair into position next to them. “You are a pain in the ass, and you put my business at risk, risk. But I wouldn’t have my beautiful bride if it weren’t for you. Business matters less than friendship.”

“For the record, when I introduced the two of you, I had no idea Marie would make the mistake of falling in love with you.”

Heinrich guffawed, slapped John on the back, and looked at Stony, “You work for a bastard, bastard. You know this already.”

He turned back to John. “Yes, I can arrange a meeting.”

“Good. One more thing. I doubt our phones are bugged because we got them before this turned ugly. But they could be used to track us. Can you get us burn phones?”

“Of course. We keep a supply.”

They laid their phones on the table. Stony looked like she’d lost her best friend.

Heinrich smiled. “I’ll have one of my guys drop these in the back of a passing truck, truck.”

“Sweet!” Stony said. “That makes me feel better about giving it up.”

“You need to stay out of sight, sight. Use my office for the remainder of the day; maybe do some planning, yes? After dark, we’ll lose your followers and have a nice dinner. Then we’ll visit with the intriguing Miss Upland.”

Darwin

The Northern Territory, Australia

Two days had passed since Sarah reaffirmed her promise to use magic with Belle.

Unable to sleep, she rose early and logged into TransitionWeb. She was excited to find Jonah, a kid in the U.S. she’d met on TW, hanging out online. Jonah was anxious for his Transition to start so he could cure his sister. Sarah told him she’d probably have to use magic, and it scared her. Jonah didn’t seem afraid at all. They agreed to reconnect in a couple of days.

She slogged through the day. Everything around her seemed distant, out of focus. Her desire to help Belle battled with her fear of magic. As nightfall approached, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She was going to freak if she didn’t do something. She decided to take a walk in the Reserve and call her father.

Belle will be pissed. But dad can help, I know he can.

Rain had fallen all day, stopping just before she left the dorm. Low clouds and the setting sun cloaked the Reserve in a thickening murk. Water dripped from every leaf and branch, tapping an unsteady rhythm on the forest floor.

Darker than I thought. I’ll trip over a croc before I see it.

Her dad’s phone rang twice. “Sarah? Hang on a second.” She listened to a muffled conversation about getting a hauler fixed.

He must still be at work.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Daddy, I need your help.” The last time she called him “daddy” she was a little kid and had gashed her forehead in a fall from her bike.

“What’s wrong?” He sounded tense, concerned.

“Nothing. I mean, nothing about me.”

“Then what, Sarah? Why’re you upset?”

She could barely see her feet in the gloom.

“First, promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

The phone fell silent and all she heard was dripping water and the falsetto chirp of tree frogs to a cricket accompaniment. “Dad?”

“Sarah, you know I can’t promise that.”

She tripped over a downed branch, caught herself.

Coulda been a snake.

She turned back to the campus and picked up her pace.

“You gotta swear, or I can’t tell you.”

“Goddammit, Sarah, that’s extortion. I’m not going to play this game.”

Tears filled her eyes as she struggled to keep her voice normal. “I should’ve never called. I’m sorry.”

“Wait! Don’t hang up.”

She stopped and looked up at the scattered smudges of clouds sweeping across emerging stars. A gust of wind lifted her hair, tickled her cheeks.

Please help me.

“Okay. I’m probably going to regret this, but I promise. Now why did you call?”

She choked back a sob. “It’s about Belle.”

“Belle? Is she okay?”

“Yes. No. Not really.”

“Slow down, Sarah. Is she hurt? Is this about Transition?”

“NO! It’s her dad.”

“Reverend Baxter? Is he sick? “

“I promised Belle I’d never tell.”

“Why is being sick a secret?”

“Daaad. Let me talk. He’s not sick.”

“Okay, Sarah. Whenever you’re ready.” His breathing sounded like he’d run up a hill.

“He’s been touching Belle.”

Long silence.

“Sarah, what are you trying to say? If it’s what I think, it’s important for you to be clear. Do you mean he’s been touching her sexually?”

She forgot about the surrounding woods, the smell and sounds of the night. Her world shrank to the tenuous connection with her father.

“Yeah, dad. It’s disgusting. He rubs her chest and crotch. While he rubs himself.”

“Ah, sweet Christ. Are you sure? How do you know this isn’t Belle’s imagination?”

“If you heard her, you’d know it’s true.” Sarah’s voice rose, threatened to tip into hysterics. She wanted to cry and scream, but feared her father would quit listening.

“Sarah, something like this can be complicated. You can’t assume what Belle’s telling you is real. Sometimes kids—”

“Sometimes what, dad? It’s simple—her dad’s a horrible, sickening pervert. He makes me want to puke.” She felt like an overfilled balloon, like she was going to explode any second.

“Kids get sick, emotionally sick, and imagine things like this or even make them up. Her father is well known and respected throughout the Northern Territory. I know the man. I can’t believe he’d do anything like this.”

“You think she made it up?” Her anxiety transformed into a fierce anger. “How can you take his side?”

“Calm down, Sarah. I’m just trying to explain—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! You think Belle is lying, don’t you?”

Her dad’s voice rose to match hers. “That’s enough of that tone from you, young lady. I don’t know if she’s lying and neither do you. Anyway, it doesn’t make any difference.”

“Doesn’t make any difference?” Crimson spots danced in Sarah’s vision, blood pounded in her temples. “You’re so mean!”

“What I meant was, it doesn’t make any difference what either of us believe. I have to report this to the police.”

“Police? You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone. The police will just make it worse.” She stomped the ground in frustration.

“That was before I knew what this was about. I don’t have any choice. If I don’t notify the police, I could go to jail.”

I hate him!

“All you care about is what other people think. What about Belle? If you tell, it’ll make everything worse.”

“Sarah, that’s not true, and you know it. I can’t handle this by myself. This is the best way to get help for Belle. She lives in Palmerston, right? The Palmerston police will stop Baxter and family services will protect her.”

“What if family services don’t believe her? What then? She’d have to live with a pissed-off pervert! Is that what you want?” Her voice was filled with an eleven-year-old’s fury and accusation.

Oh my God. What if Belle kills herself because I told?

“Of course not, Sarah. Stop behaving like a two-year-old. Family services will listen to Belle and figure out the best way to handle this. We have to trust them. They’re the experts.” He sighed, then pleaded, “That makes sense, right?”

“Huh uh, nothing makes sense. I’m begging you. Don’t go to the police.”

“I have no choice. After a little time, you’ll understand this was the right thing to do.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true. Now, Belle’s safe in school, right? Your mom and I’ll drive up first thing in the morning and see the police. We’ll come by St. Bart’s after to talk with you.”

Anger, guilt, and determination to help her friend overwhelmed her fear of Transition.

We have to use magic tonight, before he tells anyone.

“Okay, dad. G’night.”

“Love you. Call me or your mum any time you want to talk.”

Gotta find Belle.

* * *

Sarah sprinted back to her room. She burst through the door, slammed it behind her, and, seeing Belle lying on the bottom bunk, broke into sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Belle.” She stopped and caught her breath. “I was trying to help, but I did an unforgivable thing.”

Belle’s eyes grew wide. She swung her legs to the floor and leaned toward Sarah. “Why? What—”

“I told my dad about your father.” Sarah gulped for air, whooping between each word. “I thought he’d help us make him stop and we wouldn’t need to use magic.”

“You promised me!” Belle screamed, her face bright red. She jumped up and kicked a pile of books across the room. “How could you?” She grabbed a book and flung it at Sarah’s head.

Sarah jumped to the side. The heavy book clipped her on the shoulder and crashed into the door. “Ow!”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are. I didn’t think he would tell.”

A horrified expression filled Belle’s face.

“What do you mean ‘tell?’ Tell who?”

Belle’s eyes twitched around the room, like a cornered fawn. Sarah sat with her back shoved against the door and rubbed her shoulder.

“Quit yelling, unless you want one of the girls to call Terrible.” She told Belle about her conversation with her dad.

“The police? Oh my God, he’s going to the police?” She shook her head, her voice a hoarse whisper. “My dad’ll kill me. Why did you do this to me?”

Sarah sagged. They’d only been talking for a few minutes, but it seemed like hours.

I’m a horrid friend.

“I fucked up, but we have time to fix everything. We can use magic tonight, make all this go away.”

Belle rose, pulled on her shoes, and stomped toward the door. “Move.”

Sarah kept her back pressed against the only way out of their room. “Wait Belle, we need to—”

“Get away, you shit. And don’t you dare follow me,” Belle screamed.

Sarah quailed under her friend’s fierce glare and scooted to the side.

Belle stormed into the hall and disappeared.

* * *

Sarah sat for a minute, then scrambled to her feet, fumbled with the closed door, and lurched into the empty hallway.

Can’t let her go.

The building was as silent as an empty church.

Maybe she ducked into someone’s room for the night. Whose? I’m her only friend. Where else could she be?

A frightening image rose in Sarah’s mind. Right after the school term started, Belle had hollowed out a special place in some shrubs of the Reserve. She named her nest ‘Sanctuary’ and retreated there whenever she wanted to be alone. Sarah had visited once and been impressed. The hidey-hole was invisible, even if you looked right at it.

That’s where she’d go.
But
bloody hell, not at night! Who knows what’s crawling around in the dark?

She ran back to their room and skipped around the mess on the floor to the bookshelf. She yanked their copy of
Macquarie’s Complete Australian Dictionary
from the bookshelf, flipped to the Ms, and retrieved two folded pieces of paper. The pages held the words of the Transition spell they’d agreed to use, laboriously crafted over the two days since Belle had revealed her abuse.

Sarah grabbed a small penlight from her desk, sped from the dorm, across the school grounds, and up to the boundary of the Reserve.

She stood and let her eyes adjust. The waning gibbous moon sat low in the southern sky, revealing the wood chip path that led toward Belle’s refuge. It was so late the frogs and crickets had stopped singing, leaving a solitary nightjar owl’s chirr-chirr as the only sound.

She’d gone about a hundred meters when she spied a softly glowing light off the trail to her left.

“Belle?”

Why the hell am I whispering? A bunyip going to get me?

“Belle?” she called in a loud voice. The shrubs and trees swallowed the sound.

The light winked out.

She’s here. And nothing’s taken a bite out of her!

“Please Belle, I just want to talk.” She left the path and started picking her way through tall grass toward where she’d seen the soft light. She tripped and fell, scratching her face on a fallen branch.

“Goddammit Belle, if you don’t show me where you are, I’m going to rip off your arms and beat you with the bloody stumps!”

Snickers floated out of the brush ten meters in front of Sarah. “Christ, Sarah, that’s no way to get me to talk to you.”

Sarah snorted, then laughed. “Can I come in?”

“Okay, but I’m still plenty pissed at you.” Belle pointed her flashlight toward an opening in the shrubs. “Easier if you stay on all fours.”

Sarah crawled toward the light, scooted inside the cleared space in the undergrowth, and plopped on a blanket lying on the ground. A thicket of branches surrounded the space and formed a dome over their heads. Belle sat next to an open picnic cooler. A dog-eared copy of “The Book Thief” lay next to it.

“I feel so bad, Belle. I’m sorry, really I am. And way pissed at my dad. I thought I could trust him.” She nodded at the book. “You been reading?”

“Yeah. I keep books and extra batteries in the tub.”

“For someone prone to snits, you plan ahead.”

More snickers. The tension between them faded. Sarah was so relieved she wanted to cry.

Belle turned off her light. Moonlight drifted into Sanctuary, drawing patterns on the blanket from the branches over their heads. Sarah smelled the heavy green scent of a nearby lagoon.

Belle’s voice floated in the darkness. “Sometimes I think I’m Boo Radley. Confused and scared and alone.”

Sarah didn’t know how to respond. She felt like that sometimes, but whenever she did, her mom and dad would talk to her and she’d feel better. She’d tried to help Belle, but it wasn’t the same.

“Belle—” Sarah choked on a shard of anger. “We need to use magic and make all this fucking shit go away. So you’ll be happy like any regular kid.”

“Really, you’d still do that? Even though you told your dad and you’re afraid?”