Shattered by Magic Read online

  Crossley digs his fingers into my arm again before I can say another word, so I bite my tongue. Surely, they realise that she’s being manipulated or brainwashed? I know Ella, and this isn’t like her at all. She’s no terrorist and definitely shouldn’t be a suspect.

  It takes all my strength to keep my composure and not say anything.

  If Angeles expected another outburst, she doesn’t show it, carrying on as if nothing happened. “Find the sister, too. Anna or something?” She flicks through the papers in my file. “Agnes. Agnes Cooper. She may have made contact or have some idea where they might be.”

  I restrain myself from telling her it’s a waste of time, or even that she’d have better luck trying to interview a goldfish, but then I’d sound suspicious. Until yesterday, Agnes had been as good as invisible herself, and Angeles doesn’t need any more reasons to suspend me.

  “That will be all, gentlemen.” She stands, and I follow Crossley’s lead and get up from my chair. As we make for the door she calls out to me. “One final thing, Curtis. Based on your reactions and the reports I’ve been receiving of late, I will be keeping an eye on you. I would like to give you the benefit of the doubt, but if you are found to be obstructing the investigation, I will have your contract terminated without a second thought. That goes for your friends, too.”

  “Very good, ma’am,” I reply, taking a leaf out of Crossley’s book. If I was scared before, I’m terrified now.

  Crossley leaves me to find the others so that he can execute his latest orders, reminding me to stay out of trouble. Fat chance.

  I find Lou, Jer, and Marco sitting around one of the IT technicians, poring over the data on her many screens. Bonnie, a mousey Asian girl with spectacles, seems to be having a hard time keeping them under control.

  “What happened? You look like you saw a ghost,” Lou says when I sidle up to them.

  “Worse. I’ll explain later,” I add, not wanting to be overheard speaking badly of Angeles, Miss Banks, or anyone in front of Bonnie.

  “If you could all stop invading my personal space, perhaps I can give you something else to do other than breathing down my neck and shouting every time you see something interesting on the screen?” she suggests, looking at me pleadingly. I don’t know why she thinks I’ll be of any use, but I can tell my friends are being intentionally annoying just to wind her up.

  “What’s the matter, Bon? We only want to help,” Jer says, giving her a friendly nudge with his elbow, which evidently irritates the hell out of her.

  “Well, you’re not. Go away and let me work! Curtis, please, I’ll do anything to be left in peace.”

  “Alright, alright, guys, let’s leave Bonnie to do her important computer geek stuff and make ourselves useful elsewhere. We’ll have to, now that we’re completely off active field duty,” I say hastily.

  “What? But we only just started,” Lou whines.

  “I know, I know. Angeles ordered it, at least until Munday and Clarence are caught. I’m not happy about it either, but... Actually, Bonnie, there is something you can do for me.” I pull out the USB stick and hand it to her.

  “What are the chances you can decrypt this for me?”

  “Where’d you get it from?” she asks suspiciously.

  “I found it,” I reply smoothly. “I’ve no idea what’s on it, but it might have a clue. You never know.”

  She shakes her head, no doubt thinking I’m mad, but she plugs it in anyway and taps away at her keyboard.

  “Huh,” she says after a few minutes of clicking and typing.

  “Is that a good ‘huh’ or a bad one?”

  “It’s a surprised one. Whoever encrypted this did not want it tampered with. If I initiate our standard high-level password decoder, it will run a protocol to erase all the data,” she says, unplugging it and handing it back to me. “Sorry.”

  “I think I understood about half of that,” I say, taking it from her and returning it to my pocket. “Don’t sweat it. It will just have to remain a mystery for now.” I shrug, catching Lou’s astute glance at me out of the corner of my eye. “I’ll take this lot off your hands, and if Crossley asks, we’re in the archives, looking for those evidence records he asked for.”

  Bonnie nods, grateful for the reprieve as I usher everyone out of the IT department.

  “Cur, you know how I always say that you’re a rubbish liar?” Jer asks as soon as we’re out of earshot.

  “Yep,” I reply, heading in the direction of the lift.

  “Well, I think I was wrong.” He sounds impressed.

  I give him a sly grin. “What gave it away?”

  “Oh, I dunno. The fact that we’re walking in the opposite direction to the archive department, for a start.”

  I put a finger to my lips and beckon them to follow me, staying quiet until we reach the ground floor and find ourselves standing in the deserted garage.

  “I have an idea,” I whisper, although there’s no one here to overhear.

  “Let me guess,” Lou answers, “we’re going to see the guy who gave you that USB stick.” She doesn’t sound too concerned about it, despite knowing that we’re not supposed to be leaving the complex.

  “Would you prefer to sit in Archives all day, looking at old files about Munday’s research?”

  “No, thank you,” Marco replies immediately. Jer and Lou shake their heads.

  “Listen, I know this is a big risk, particularly as Miss Banks isn’t around to come to our rescue if we get caught.”

  “She was fired?” Jer asks surprised.

  “Suspended, I think. But either way, Angeles is running the show and she doesn’t want us getting in the way.”

  “So, you figure the best way to keep out from under her feet is to disappear for the afternoon?” Lou asks skeptically. She crosses her arms and shifts her weight onto her back leg, as she always does when she’s silently judging me.

  “Well, yeah. If there’s something on here we can use to track the Duke,” I reply, waving the stick in front of her, “then surely she’ll let us off the hook.

  “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than to seek permission, as the old saying goes.” I look at each of them expectantly.

  “I’m in. If we’re out of a job tomorrow though, I blame you, mate,” Marco says cheerily.

  “Me too,” Jer adds. Lou scowls at him, but I can see she’s coming around to the idea.

  “Fine, fine. I’ll do it. These two won’t be much good if you end up in a fight anyway.” She sighs then leads us to our parked car and climbs into the driver’s seat.

  “That’s the spirit,” I say, clambering into the back of the car with Marco. Jer takes his usual shotgun spot in the front.

  As soon as we’re out of sight of the industrial estate and on the main road, I give Lou the address from memory, and she punches it into the car’s GPS.

  “So, what else did Angeles say, other than the fact that we’re all a waste of space and need to stay out of her way?” Jer asks, turning around in the front seat to talk to me.

  “Nothing good. Ella’s been added to the suspect list,” I admit, feeling the fear of that truth curl in my stomach like a bad meal.

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. They’re assuming that the message she left for me was a sign that she’s working with the Duke. They’re even trying to bring Agnes in for questioning.”

  Lou snorts. “I wish them luck with that.”

  “You didn’t tell them where she was, did you?” Marco asks, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. We know that Agnes is with his cousin and brother, and the last thing anyone wants is a bunch of agents crawling all over their Augur-only club.

  “Of course not. I kept my mouth firmly shut and tried not to punch anything on my way out.”

  “All that training is being put to great use.” Jer chuckles, shaking his head. “But in all seriousness, what do we do if we get turned out on our ear, Cur? I mean, we could go back to waiting tables and working in pubs, but th
at’s not going to get us any closer to Ella or to stopping the Duke, for that matter.”

  “No, it isn’t. But Angeles didn’t fire me this morning after the Mulberry debacle when she had every opportunity to. Maybe she thinks that us working with the ATU is good for PR or something.”

  “Bloody politicians,” Lou snaps, stopping at a red light abruptly.

  “True, but maybe she’ll cut us a bit of slack. Surely, us being part of the ATU is of mutual benefit?” Marco suggests.

  “Mutal benefit, huh? Mostly their benefit right now,” Jer says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind working with them, but other than getting our arses kicked, working fourteen hour days, and having the promise of getting Ella back being waved in front of us these past two months, what have they done for us?”

  “They taught us to fight,” Lou says.

  “They let us use our abilities without getting arrested,” Marco chimes in.

  “We’ve had thousands of pounds of technology at our disposal, decent pay, and a roof over our heads,” I point out.

  “Fine, fine,” Jer waves his hand irritably in my direction. “Jeez, guys, ruin the argument, why don’t you? So, it’s not all bad, but I still worry that we’re never going to get out of there alive.”

  I have to admit I’ve had that thought too. What happens if—no, when—I get Ella back?

  “Er, we’ve got other more immediate things to worry about, boys,” says Lou, glancing at her mirror every few seconds. “I think that car has been following us for about the last mile.”

  I look in her wing mirror rather than turn around in my seat. A dark-blue Vauxhall Astra seems to be a few cars behind us, so nothing to immediately worry about, but it overtakes several vehicles to put itself behind us at every available opportunity. When Lou indicates a left turn, the car behind does the same. When she indicates right but then cancels it at the last minute, the follower stays with us. Obviously, whoever it is doesn’t want to lose sight of us.

  “Dammit,” she says as she tries to lose them for the fourth time. Easier said than done in a city full of traffic.

  “Can you see who’s driving?” Jer asks me. I look through the rear window, but their sun visor is pulled down, shielding the driver’s face from the morning sun, and the hands that grip the steering wheel are gloved. No way to tell if they’re male or female.

  “Nope. Either they’re really clever or very lucky.”

  “Who do you reckon it is, someone from the ATU keeping tabs on us?”

  “It’s not one of our own, that’s for sure,” Lou replies, overtaking a taxi.

  “Magic Circle, maybe?” Marco voices the thought I didn’t want to.

  “I bloody well hope not,” says Lou, taking a very last-minute turn down a side street, which causes us to be honked at by other angry drivers. The follower misses the turn, thanks to another car blocking their way, and Lou does a quick right to take us back out of the street the way we came in, retracing our steps for a mile or so until she can find a detour.

  “Babe, if ever we’re in a car chase, I want you to drive,” Jer says, squeezing her knee.

  “I wouldn’t give you a choice. You drive like a grandma,” she says, grinning at him.

  “How long before we get there now?” I ask anxiously, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of our stalker.

  “Half an hour, thanks to that little distraction,” Lou says, picking up speed where she can.

  “Well, hopefully that’s the last we’ll see of him,” says Jer.

  I’d agree, but I can’t shake the ominous suspicion that we might be seeing more of the mystery person sooner than we’d like.

  CHAPTER 6

  The house where Marvin’s flat is located in Golders Green hasn’t changed much, if only to look slightly more ramshackle than it did last year. I spot the addition of a few CCTV cameras on the property, which are new but well-disguised unless you’ve been taught to look for them.

  “Looks like Marvin is a little more paranoid than the last time we were here.” I point to the camera that looks like a garden gnome on the ground-floor windowsill.

  “Maybe something happened after you and Ella visited him?” Lou suggests.

  I think Miss Banks had mentioned knowing about his hideout. Maybe he’s had more unwanted visitors since us. “Well, we’ve come all this way. Let’s just hope he’s home,” I say, ringing what I think is the right bell.

  We wait a good five minutes before Marco gets fed up and walks through the door, opening it from within. Sometimes, I think his power is the best of all; other times, I’m just grateful he didn’t choose a life of crime, because he’d be great at it.

  “A bit quiet in here, isn’t it?” Lou whispers as we tread up the stairs, the threadbare carpet so worn and eaten by moths that it has gaping holes straight down to the floorboards in places.

  “Don’t say it,” I say to Jer, but he does anyway.

  “I have a really bad feeling,” he says.

  Marco and I groan in unison. If Jer gets the heebie-jeebies, then there’s usually something wrong.

  When we reach the first floor landing, my heart sinks. Marvin’s door is boarded up, and police tape criss-crosses it like a bad Halloween decoration.

  “Want me to blast it down?” Lou asks us.

  I shake my head. “Marco, would you have a look around? Unless there’s a good reason, we should probably avoid disturbing a crime scene.”

  Marco nods and walks through, police tape and all, and we can hear him shuffle around inside before he reappears a few minutes later.

  “Place is empty, except for something you’re not going to be too pleased about.” He unlocks his phone and shows us a picture of a distinctive and immediately recognisable white-taped border on the floor. It doesn’t take a genius to see it’s the shape of a large-ish body that would match the size and stature of Marvin.

  “Bloody hell!” Jer exclaims.

  Instant frustration and anger surges through me. I was so certain that this was my ticket to finding a lead on the Duke’s location. I take a few deep breaths of stagnant air and steady myself on the landing.

  “You have got to be kidding me. A dead end?” Lou says, sounding only slightly less irritated than I feel.

  “No computers, no food in the fridge, and the place looks wiped clean,” Marco adds, swiping through pictures on his phone.

  I hit the wall in disappointment. It hurts, but I feel slightly better for it. “It doesn’t make any sense,” I mutter, rubbing my grazed knuckles. We were so close to getting some answers. So, so close.”

  “You think someone killed him because of his association with the Duke?” Jer suggests.

  “Or someone who worked for Munday wanted revenge,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Jer and Marco nod, but Lou shakes her head. Her brow creases, and she paces around the small landing, arms crossed, just as she does when she’s thinking hard.

  “What is it, babe?” Jer asks, seeing her agitation.

  “It doesn’t make sense.” She holds up her hands to stop any further questions until she’s finished working whatever it is out for herself. She paces until I’m dizzy, and I perch on the step of the landing, waiting for her to draw her conclusions.

  “No sign of forced entry,” she says to herself, examining the apartment door closely.

  “If Marvin had been murdered, we would have seen it somewhere in the ATU database, on the news, somewhere. Miss Banks had the Duke’s dry cleaner under surveillance, for God’s sake. She wouldn’t have missed this place.”

  “So, it was a regular murder?” Marco asks.

  “No, no. I don’t think he’s dead at all. If he were, I’m sure it would have made its way back to us somehow.”

  A little glimmer of hope seeps its way into the back of my mind.

  “Could it be a decoy?” I ask, barely wanting to let myself get excited at the idea.

  “Only one way to find out,” Lou says, peering up into the corners
of the landing. She points to a well-concealed CCTV camera tucked in the shadows, underneath the dusty cobwebs. “We have eyes on us. Someone is watching, and I think I know where they might be. Jer, go stand by the front door, will you?”

  Jer nods and heads back down the stairs. I haven’t quite sussed what she’s thinking, but covering exits seems sensible.

  “Marco, pop into the other apartments and tell me what you find.”

  He obeys immediately and heads across to the other flats, both upstairs and downstairs. I follow Lou back downstairs and wait with Jer by the front door.

  “You reckon he’s still in the house.” It’s a statement rather than a question. I can see her line of thought now. Cover the main exit in case he tries to make a getaway, and search the other apartments for clues. Marco dashes downstairs moments later, out of breath from hiking up and down the three floors.

  “All empty,” he pants.

  “Except this one, I think.” She nods to the ground floor flat. It’s the only door on this floor, and rather than send Marco for a recon, she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and holds her hands out in front of her.

  Knowing what’s about to follow, we all take a step back, just as the lights all go out, and a wave of energy floods from her palms. The wooden door buckles inwards, splinters flying off in all directions.

  The voice of someone swearing and scrambling inside is like music to my ears. Lou dusts her hands dramatically and marches through the open doorway, with the three of us close behind.

  I would be pleased to see Marvin, flecks of wood in his greasy hair and all over his Metallica t-shirt, if he didn’t decide to pull a gun on us as soon as we see him.

  “Jesus Christ! Don’t you people knock?” he screams, waving the gun erratically.

  “We did. You didn’t answer,” Lou says, unfazed by the weapon.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?” he continues to yell.

  “Marvin, I came to see you last year with my girlfriend. You gave us two USB sticks. Do you remember?” I say, stepping forward slowly. He raises the gun with a shaky hand, and I try to ignore it, but my hands instinctively go up in surrender, trying to put him at ease.