A Logical Magician

12

Jack peered through the peephole in the door before opening it. He had no desire to learn the hard way that the Border Redcaps were masters of mimicry. A feeling of relief washed over him as he recognized Benny Anderson, chief of the college police force. Bald except for a fringe of white hair, with flat ears, puffy red cheeks and diamond-hard blue eyes, Anderson resembled a kewpie doll on speed. Then, paranoia struck back as Jack remembered Simon’s amazing chameleonlike powers.

“You have any identification?” Jack called out nervously.

Turning a brilliant shade of crimson, Anderson hammered on the paneling. “Identification!” he roared. “You open this blasted son-of-a-bitch door in one second, Jack Collins, or I’ll smash it to splinters. And you—you two-bit butthead—with it! Enough of this bloody stalling.”

Nodding, Jack fumbled with the lock. It was definitely Anderson. An ex-marine drill sergeant, he possessed a style uniquely his own. And a vocabulary to match.

“Sorry, chief,” said Jack, stepping side to let the security chief enter. “Don’t blame me for being careful. I was mugged yesterday. I’ve been seeing shadows ever since.”

“Sure,” said Anderson, swaggering about the living room casually. His sharp eyes flickered back and forth, as if mentally photographing everything for later appraisal. His gaze rested for a second on the smashed formica of the dining-room table, but he said nothing. “I understand.”

He nodded to Simon. “Nice to see you, Fellows. You have business with the Professor?”

“Business?” replied Simon, shrugging unconcernedly. “You might say that. I’m enrolled in Professor Collins’s tutorial. I missed the last few classes. He was nice enough to let me stop by and find out what I missed.”

“Sure,” said Anderson again. He turned to Jack. “Naturally, I heard about the attack. Dr. Nelson submitted a report on it. Nasty business, getting booted in the head and all. No motive for the attack, according to your statement. You sticking to that story?”

“Yes,” said Jack, fearing the worst. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s the truth.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” declared Anderson, his voice cold. “Nelson mentioned you were flashing a big roll of bills. A lot more money than most graduate students carry in their pockets. Especially ones supposedly knocked around by a motorcycle gang.”

Jack flushed. “What are you leading up to, Anderson? You accusing me of drug dealing?”

The instant after he made the remark Jack was sorry he mentioned drugs. But by then it was much too late.

“Drugs?” said Anderson, his lips curving in a sinister smile. The security chief looked like a rattlesnake ready to strike. With Jack as his prospective dinner. “I never once brought up drugs.”

“I found a new job,” said Jack, the words rushing out. Panic sent his mind into overdrive. “You know I’ve been looking for one for weeks. My new boss advanced me a week’s salary to pay off some of my bills. That was the money Nelson noticed. If he had asked, I would have told him just like I’m telling you. And that’s the truth.”

The chief frowned. “No reason to get riled up, Collins. You can’t blame me for doing my job. That’s why the Dean pays my salary. It was an honest mistake. I’ll even apologize—once I check the story with that new employer of yours. Got a phone number I can call?”

Jack’s mouth went bone dry. “Uh, that won’t be possible.”

“No?” Anderson’s voice was ice cold again. “Why not?”

“He… she… they left town for the week,” said Jack. “That’s why I was paid in advance. Mr. Ambrose asked me to watch the office while he’s gone. No one’s there at present. It’s a small consulting firm in the Loop.”

“Sounds awfully strange to me,” said Anderson. “A boss hires a new worker and then leaves town the same day. Putting the fledgling employee in charge of an empty office, no less. You ain’t planning any sudden trips yourself, are you, Collins?”

“No, nothing,” said Jack.

“Good,” said the security chief. “I’d hate for you to leave campus before I could verify your story. ’Cause if you did, I’d have to report my suspicions to the Chicago police. And they might not be so trusting of our grad students as me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Jack.

“I hope you’re not lying, Collins,” said Anderson, his voice growing progressively softer. “I hate drugs and I hate drug dealers. They make me sick. And, when I’m sick, I get angry. Real angry. Angry enough to break all the bones in a man’s fingers and toes, one at a time.”

Inside his shoes, Jack’s toes curled. “I’m telling the truth. Nothing but the truth.”

“We’ll see,” said Anderson, heading for the door. “We’ll see.”

The officer gone, Jack collapsed to the sofa, his body drenched in sweat. “Our friends still outside?” he asked Simon.

“Haven’t moved an inch,” reported the changeling. “If they stand any stiffer, they’ll grow roots. Like I said, during the day they’re weak. Tonight is when to worry.”

Jack sighed. The day was not off to a good start. He had an uneasy feeling things were not going to get any better.

“You planning to stay on campus like you told the chief?” asked Simon.

“That depends on our buddies across the street,” said Jack. “Anderson’s paranoid and mean. No question he’s a problem I’ve got to face sooner or later. But he’s only human.”

“And the pair watching this building aren’t,” said Simon.

“Exactly,” said Jack. “Give me a minute to think.”

While Simon cheerfully rummaged through the kitchenette, preparing a second breakfast, Jack contemplated the dilemmas facing him. Merlin and Megan were in terrible danger. The world needed to be saved from an ancient God. His enemies, including Border Redcaps, Corpse Hounds, and the Wild Huntsman, knew where he lived. Benny Anderson suspected him of dealing in illegal drugs. And there were tests from last week still ungraded.

After ten minutes of mental juggling, Jack finally settled on a schedule of attack. Sort of.

“Today’s Friday. Thank god for that. I shifted my tutoring classes to Gleason. So I don’t have to worry about handling them. But the other two courses I teach require my presence today. I owe my students that much. Then, there’s Professor Winston’s class at seven p.m. that I grade the papers for. So I have to attend his lectures. Once that’s finished, I’m free for the weekend.

“Say we meet at my office in the mathematics building at eight-thirty? That’s when we’ll plot out our strategy for dealing with this von Bern character.”

“Meaning,” said Simon, polishing off a piece of toast, “you don’t have the foggiest notion what to do, and you’re praying the extra hours will give you a glimmer.”

“That’s about the size of it,” admitted Jack. “You got a better idea?”

“Nope,” said the changeling. “But I’m not the one supposed to save the world.”

For that remark. Jack had no answer.