Island of Time, page 8
Jackson thought the building looked like a dark gray mushroom. The upper floor extended out in a series of curved angles from the stumpy base. There were no sharp edges. The glass was tinted the exact same shade as the steel. The eye tended to slide off the structure. He had walked past the narrow alcove separating the café from the street-front newsstand any number of times. Even now, when he was following Luca’s instructions, he could see no sign of a knob or handle. But as they approached, a light appeared at eye level. A second light shone above his head and ran laser-fast over his body, then did the same to Krys. A lock pinged softly, and the door clicked open.
When they stepped into the alcove, Jackson found himself facing the same double-fronted foyer as in the jewelry store. The space was scarcely large enough for the two of them to stand without touching.
As they waited for the outer door to sigh shut and lock, Jackson watched a woman flitter across his restricted field of vision. But the single glance was enough.
She moved from right to left. She was only visible for a second, perhaps two. The first alert Jackson had of her passage was how every male he could see turned and stared. Then she appeared: the nurse who attacked them in Luca’s hospital room. Raven hair spilled over a crimson jacket and short tight skirt. Her every step was a liquid shift of her entire body. She tossed her hair in the manner of a woman who used every motion as a lure, but in so doing she turned and stared directly at him. Jackson had no idea if the glass door was mirrored, if she could see him at all. But the sensation was one of having been trapped in the amber-like force of her gaze.
Then she was gone.
The inner door clicked open. Luca’s voice came through an unseen speaker. ‘Come up the stairs.’
Luca’s apartment was astonishingly white. It was a home designed for a man who lived without color. There was artwork on every interior wall, but all of it tactile. Jackson ran a hand over a framed imprint of ancient scrolls, the embossed lettering a subtle pattern under his fingertips. The exterior walls were all glass, but so heavily tinted the sunlight was a muted glow. Luca sat in a white straight-back chair pulled away from his white dining table and listened intently as Jackson ran through his idea. By this third telling, a number of the basic flaws were becoming clear to him. He adapted his concept a bit, but mostly held to the original flow. He was not after details at this point. All that would come later.
Part of his mind remained locked on the single glimpse of the woman in red. Jackson felt an element of doubt creep into his assumption that Luca was a man to be trusted. Confusion and deceit were at the heart of every investigation revolving around magic. One of the reasons Jackson had known such a high solve rate was because he could cut through the mystery and fix himself firmly upon the concrete, the real. Only now he felt unable to decide on a crucial element of moving forward. Should he trust Luca?
Every good Interpol agent relied on such gut instincts when it came to operating in the magical realms. The station chief and the head of Jackson’s agency both vouched for this man. And yet, as he completed outlining his idea, Jackson found himself pulling back. Studying this strange, pale, eyeless man anew. Perhaps he had been too swift in accepting him as a trusted accomplice. Perhaps he should revisit the entire issue with his chief. Perhaps …
Luca interrupted his deliberations with, ‘This plan has potential.’
‘I think it is far better than that,’ Krys said.
‘You are probably correct.’ Luca took a slender box from his pocket and held it out. The blue leather was embossed with the Bouchon name and logo. ‘Jackson told you about the need for protection of awareness and memories regarding this case?’
‘I … Yes.’ She accepted the box, opened the top, and sat studying the elegant gold watch with its diamond-embossed face.
Luca said, ‘You must wear this at all times.’
Jackson started to tell them about the sighting. But indecision gripped him with talons of very real fear. Jackson could not say exactly why this sighting seemed so pivotal, nor what left him convinced that it needed to remain his secret. But in the end, what he asked was, ‘Where’s your cane?’
‘I do not require it here.’
‘You’re not talking about using it for getting around.’
‘Of course not. I secretly maintain wards around this building. Which is why the Julius brothers lease me this space.’
Jackson saw Krys fasten the watch, study it a moment, then cover it with her other hand. He asked, ‘You use magic to shield a Swiss bank?’
‘The authorities turn a blind eye to certain activities out of necessity. Every financial transaction with any international connection must be shielded against magical interference. The national government treats this as a component of the global reach. Not national law.’ Luca’s fingers played along the table’s edge. ‘You will be reporting to Brussels?’
‘I’ve written two reports,’ Jackson replied. ‘One for the local records, the other a more comprehensive run-down. I’m leaving it to my chief to alert Brussels when she thinks the time is right.’
‘Your commandant should know the obelisk was mentioned, as it has been in every related document I have found. Also, the segment I managed to read did not deal with the manipulation of time. That top scroll, the only one I could access, was a spell of opening. Or unlocking. Or building a link.’
‘A bridge to the island,’ Jackson said.
‘That is my thinking as well. But I can’t be certain. The wording of the Ancients’ spell-scrolls can be vague and misleading, even when unraveled.’ Luca turned to a window he could not see. ‘So much of the lore regarding the Ancients and their powers is mired in fable and outright lies. My approach is to only accept as real what has been proven in the here and now. What I read also confirmed two other points I have seen before. The Island of Time’s appearance is linked to a blue moon, the second full moon in the same month. Very rare. That night, the bridge is open to whoever casts the spell. This same opening reappears for one night only, during the very next full moon. A blue moon occurred the day Bernard vanished.’
Jackson studied the blind wizard. There was so much about the world of magic he simply could not fathom. ‘Why is this important to Brussels?’
‘I think we should assume he is still out there. Which means we risk Bernard learning of our investigation.’
‘The chief mentioned other agents who were murdered.’
Luca nodded. ‘Which is why I am hesitant to ask my superiors for help locating him. It could potentially stir the hornet’s nest.’
‘Let me handle it.’
‘Discreetly. Our lives may depend upon it.’
‘Quietly or not at all,’ Jackson agreed. ‘You said, two points.’
‘Indeed so. The scrolls confirmed the bridge can only be crossed once. We must assume this means no Talent can repeatedly access the past.’
Jackson was trying to determine how that impacted their investigation when his phone rang. He checked the read-out and said, ‘It’s Simeon.’
‘He is with us?’
‘Partly. At least he’s wearing the watch.’ Jackson hit the connection. ‘Go.’
Simeon announced, ‘I have received official permission from my superiors to assist in your plan. They, of course, want to speak with your chief.’
‘She’s on her way back from Brussels. Call her cell.’ Jackson gave him the number.
‘Once this communication has taken place, we will need to have things happen quite swiftly,’ Simeon said. ‘Any wasted minute raises the risk of our opponents stepping in.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You will soon see, mon ami. How fast can you get here?’
NINETEEN
Jackson drove back by his house, retrieved the Mercedes, and had Krys follow in his Jeep as he returned the vehicle to the diplomatic compound. They continued out past the airport to Simeon’s office. Geneva’s central police building was a bland concrete structure in the eastern industrial zone. The only adornment was a large ceramic shield by the glass entry. Police headquarters had previously been in a stately structure downtown, but the interior had been an outdated maze. No officer Jackson knew had ever expressed regret over the move.
Jackson called ahead, and Simeon was waiting outside the front entrance when he pulled up. When the Swiss detective opened the rear door, Jackson said, ‘Inspector Krys Duprey, Detective Simeon Baehr.’
‘A pleasure, madame.’ Then he noticed her watch. ‘Is that …’
‘A gift from Luca.’
Simeon slid inside and shut his door. ‘She knows?’
‘Everything,’ Jackson replied. ‘Where are we headed?’
Their destination was an industrial zone on the airport’s other side. Simeon directed Jackson along a central avenue sandwiched between vast freight warehouses, then told him to stop in front of a gated entrance. Jackson had passed the compound any number of times. The complex occupied a full city block and was surrounded by triple fencing topped with razor wire. He had always assumed it belonged to the Swiss military. As Jackson pulled up to the reinforced barricade, Simeon said, ‘Give me your badges and IDs.’ He rose from the car and entered the guardhouse.
Krys asked, ‘What is this place?’
Jackson shook his head. He watched as the guardhouse duty officer carefully inspected a sheaf of documents Simeon produced, then lifted the phone and placed a call.
Krys pointed to the street behind them. ‘Check out the posse.’
Jackson shifted around as a trio of police vehicles parked on the street’s opposite side. He was drawn back around by his phone ringing. Jackson hit the button on the steering wheel and said, ‘Burnett.’
Luca’s voice emerged from the vehicle’s eight speakers. ‘Where do you live?’
‘I have a studio apartment on the Boulevard Henri.’
‘That will not do. Is the apartment in your name?’
‘No. It’s on a long lease to the office. The official line is, I’m using it until I locate something suitable.’
‘That is now being arranged,’ Luca said. ‘I need your full name.’
‘Jackson Edward Burnett. Why?’
‘I have acquired the house on Rue Gambord and am assigning you the title. What do you drive?’
‘A Jeep Grand Cherokee.’ Jackson turned and stared at Krys, who was frowning at the sound system. ‘Say that again about what you’re buying.’
‘You need a residence that is suitable for the tactics you outlined in my apartment. And you will require a new car. I am supplying both. Where are you now?’
‘Police compound by the airport. Luca—’
‘I have spoken with your chief, and she has approved. In case anyone checks, the records now show you paid cash for both.’ He cut the connection.
Krys demanded, ‘What just happened?’
Jackson did not respond. He was busy sorting through the news. He half expected to feel some sense of outrage over Luca taking such an action straight to Jackson’s boss. But he decided Luca had been right. Jackson had sensed the same time pressure that morning. If the scrolls were indeed out there, they had to move fast.
When he remained silent, Krys demanded, ‘The guy just bought you a house?’
Jackson looked at her. ‘We are entering a two-tier investigation. That is, assuming the chief and Brussels both back us. Our official remit is to locate and obtain and probably destroy any outlawed magical documents. Clear?’
‘Of course, but—’
‘To make this happen, we are going undercover.’
‘You already said that.’
‘You will be serving as aide to a major buyer, one Jackson Burnett. Your ties to Interpol are now severed.’
‘I thought … you know, fake IDs.’
‘There isn’t time to set up a proper history. And we’ll be checked. Documents will be structured to reveal that I have recently been dismissed for questionable dealings, which includes taking bribes. An internal investigation has uncovered that I gradually went rogue after my wife died. And you …’
Her expression turned bitter.
Jackson said it anyway. ‘Everything you’ve been fighting against will now become reality.’ He pointed to where Simeon emerged from the guardhouse and waved. ‘Heads up. We’re on.’
Krys was still sorting through Jackson’s comments when Simeon slipped into the back seat. Through the rearview mirror, Jackson watched the Swiss detective roll down his window and offer the parked police convoy a cheery wave. Jackson asked, ‘What’s with the Swiss assault troops?’
Simeon tch-tched. ‘You Americans with your cowboy attitude. This is Switzerland. We Swiss make excellent chocolate and we yodel and we tuck our children in bed at night with pleasant stories. No assault troops on city streets. We leave such things for the cinema.’
Jackson could see the detective was smiling. ‘I hear the words but I completely miss the meaning.’
‘Drive through the gate and park by the building’s front entrance. All will be made clear.’
The central structure was far too small for the compound. It sat like a square cement island in the middle of an asphalt sea. Seven civilian vehicles and four armored vans were clustered in the southeast corner. When Jackson cut the engine, Simeon said, ‘This place is run by one Herr Horst Gaynor. He is everything I despise in the Swiss bureaucracy. Do you understand what I am saying, Jackson?’
‘I’ve got a pretty good idea.’
‘Gaynor has worked here for thirty-two years. He runs this place like a military prison. His underlings despise him. They beg for reassignment. If Switzerland had an outpost in Patagonia, they would prefer it to here.’
Krys asked, ‘What is this place?’
‘A repository for illegal materials,’ Simeon replied.
‘As in, magical items,’ Jackson said.
‘The repository,’ Simeon confirmed. ‘It has existed since our constitution outlawed magic. The building you see is merely the cork in the bottle. Everything except administration is housed in caves that predate our nation. We have had our little run-ins, Herr Gaynor and I.’
Krys said, ‘He tried to keep us out?’
‘He is still trying,’ Simeon replied. ‘Herr Gaynor is in there right now, working every contact he has in Bern, trying to overturn my remit.’
Jackson asked again, ‘Why the backup?’
‘You’ll see.’ Simeon flashed another impish smile. ‘This is going to be fun.’
TWENTY
The building was a windowless concrete cube with fluorescent lighting and cheap linoleum floors. The cheerless foyer stank of industrial cleaner. The reception cubicle was fronted by thick bulletproof glass. A young man with a practiced blank expression made careful note of their badges and IDs, then had them stand in front of the glass so he could take their picture. He slipped visitor badges bearing their photographs through the slot and said they must wear them at all times. Throughout the entire process, Jackson could hear someone shouting in the background. When the armored door was buzzed open, the yelling became much louder. An unseen man was using Swiss German, which Jackson did not speak. But he did not need to understand the words to know the man was beside himself with rage.
A nervous young woman stood before a pair of armored elevators. She introduced herself as Edna Koch. Every time Herr Gaynor hit a high note, Edna winced. She flashed a badge before the scanner, then ushered them inside the elevator. Even when the doors slid shut, they could hear the man shouting.
Edna asked Simeon a question in Swiss German, and he replied in French, ‘We wish to descend to your lowest level.’
The woman’s hand hovered over the buttons. ‘Herr Gaynor …’
‘Your director is not with us. In fact, he has been expressly forbidden to impede our work in any way. Which is why you serve as escort, and not him.’ Simeon’s standard brand of mocking good humor did nothing to ease the young woman’s nerves. ‘Be so kind as to escort us to the deepest portion of your keep.’
A tight shudder passed through Edna’s slender frame. She pushed the bottom button, which was rimmed in red. A bell sounded overhead. Beyond the steel doors, Jackson could hear Herr Gaynor’s voice hit a new pitch.
The elevator began to descend. Herr Gaynor’s irate tone gradually vanished into the distance. Simeon bounced on his toes and hummed a soft tune. The woman kept her back to them. The elevator clanked noisily as they passed each floor. From the machine’s tight vibrations Jackson had the impression they were descending at a rapid pace. Even so, the distance between these clanks was considerable, suggesting that the cave network was both massive and quite deep.
Simeon said, ‘When I was a young policeman, I was assigned duty with the federal prosecutor’s office. One of my early cases involved a murder by magical means. A knife from the crime scene had been brought here because it was covered with strange markings that shifted whenever the blade was touched. Herr Gaynor refused our request to bring in experts. For months he delayed, he fought, he argued. Eventually, the case against our murderer was dismissed, and the suspect was released. When my team was finally able to inspect the item, we found the suspect’s fingerprints on the hilt. A new arrest warrant was issued, but the suspect had vanished. The case is still open.’ The elevator clanked and slowed. ‘Ah. Here we are.’
The elevator foyer was a tomblike chamber with an ancient mosaic embedded in the floor. Illumination was supplied by fluorescent lights strung from the distant ceiling. A ratty desk was positioned to catch as much of the meager light as possible. A young man rose uncertainly to his feet and peered at them myopically.
‘They call these lowest levels the dungeons,’ Simeon said. He waved a cheery greeting at the young man. ‘You must have done something truly awful to be assigned this duty.’
The young man flapped his hands in frantic protest. ‘You are not permitted here!’
