No Quest For The Wicked

“Minerva is sending her staff members here on errands, one by one,” Merlin explained. “While they are in the room, I take phone calls or have conversations about where our searchers will go next. Sam and his people are watching those locations, and if something happens in any of those places, that will reveal our mole’s identity. But now that we’re alone, what was it you wanted to tell me, Mr. Palmer?”

Owen sat at the conference table and handed the pages of spells to Merlin. “These are the spells that fake doorman used. I realized I’d seen them in the Ephemera. I’d guess they’re from about a century before the Norman invasion, based on the language and syntax. We’ve been building on these spells for centuries, so there are now far more effective ways to accomplish the same things. No one uses these anymore, which actually made them difficult to counter.”

There was a polite rap on the door, and Merlin waved a hand to open it. A young woman entered, and at first I didn’t think she could be one of Minerva’s mole candidates, since she was dressed professionally with her knee-length black skirt, medium-heel black pumps, crisp white blouse, and a chignon at the nape of her neck. “I’ve got some new readings for you, sir,” she said, handing Merlin a folder.

“Thank you,” he said, opening it. Then his desk phone rang, and he put down the folder to answer it, indicating with a gesture that he didn’t want the woman to leave. “Oh, hello, Mr. Gwaltney,” he said into the phone. “Ah, so no luck at the salons. Where are you now? Well, it’s only a few blocks down Eighty-second from where you are on Lexington to get to the museum. Perhaps our best hope is to wait for her to arrive at the museum. Please keep me posted.”

After he hung up, he smiled at the woman. “My apologies.”

“I understand completely, sir,” she replied.

He went back to the folder and flipped through the documents. “Is there anything you need to explain in here?”

“I’m sure it’s all self-explanatory for you, sir.”

“Very well, then. My thanks to your department for all your hard work today.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and strode briskly out of the office. “Are you sure she works in P and L?” I asked when she was gone. Most of Minerva’s department tended to dress like they were working at a carnival fortune-teller’s booth, so she didn’t look the part.

“Minerva says she’s one of the best scryers she’s seen,” Merlin said. “And I believe she’s the last one on the list. Now we wait to see where—if anywhere—our opponents go.”

Owen’s phone rang, and after answering it, he hit a button and set it on the table. “Okay, Rod, you’re on speaker,” he said.

“We’ve hit all the salons on the list and the good news is that we found Mimi’s stylist,” Rod reported. “The bad news is that the stylist is meeting her at the museum.”

“I should have known,” I muttered. “She’d want plenty of flunkies on-site.”

“I’m afraid the first time we’re sure of being able to get to her will be at the museum, possibly during the event setup. Do you think she’ll show up to supervise, Katie?”

“Oh, yeah. She has to be there to micromanage and change her mind a dozen times.”

“Then we’ll go into the museum as patrons,” Rod said. “We’ll veil ourselves while they clear the regular visitors out of the exhibits and be in place to wait for her.”

“How do we get in?” Owen asked. “You’ll need us when it comes to getting the brooch.”

“Sneak in with the catering staff. Surely she won’t know everyone.”

“The caterers will probably be scrambling to staff this event after everyone who’s met her quits,” I said. “It could work, but I’ll have to avoid her while I’m undercover. Not that she’d pay enough attention to a catering waitress to recognize me.”

“Did you find those spells?” Rod asked.

“Yes, and a few more they might use, just in case,” Owen said. “I’ll bring them with me. We’ll be up there as soon as we can.”

While Owen ended that call, Merlin’s desk phone rang. “Yes, Sam?” he said, answering the phone. Then he frowned as he nodded somberly. “Are you certain? Have them followed. At the moment, I would prefer that they not know we’re on to them.” Merlin then dialed an internal extension. “Minerva?” he said. “Miss Spencer appears to be our person. Please bring her here immediately.”