Anamnesis ©
Chapter Thirteen
By Fiction Writer #13
(nosex, sci-fi , paranormal)

"I'm done answering your questions.  I'm done telling my story over and over again.  I've had enough of this whole bloody mess!" The instant Jon opened the door he found himself toe to toe with a very irate Aussie.  The taller man, wielding his pointed finger as if it were a blunt object ready to strike, stared down Jon with eyes ringed by dark circles. "We're getting out of here, now."

Rico smiled wickedly as he pushed his way past Jon to exit the room, pausing only briefly to whisper under his breath, "Good luck."

Jon gave a nod to his smirking compatriot before turning to face his newest problem. "Please, if you'll just calm down, I'll..."

"No!" The man's voice reverberated around the tiny meeting room. "No more talking.  We've put up with this nonsense for long enough.  Come on, Deb," he extended a hand towards the exhausted but still attractive brunette seated behind the steel tables, "we're leaving."

As the woman stood and moved towards her friend, Jon stepped further into the room, allowing the door to close behind him. "I can't let you go just yet.  It's not safe out there and we really need to talk."

"You said we would be able to go home after talking to your people in Alice Springs." The woman rubbed at her eyes, the toll of the last few days clearly showing. "You promised us we would be able to go home.  I'm an American citizen and I know my rights.  I demand to speak with a representative from my embassy."

"Save your breath, love." The man eyed Jon with contempt. "These boys are from the States, and most likely CIA.  We'd be better off trying to get help from my mates in Canberra.  They'll never stand for one of their own being held captive by a bunch of Yanks."

"Hate to burst your bubble, mate!" Stewart, who had remained quiet during most of his time escorting the couple, shook his head and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "We're here with you're government's permission.  More accurately, at your PM's request.  We know all about your connections in Parliament, how you've been giving free tours to those who might be able to allocate more money to the park service, but no one outside of this team knows that the two of you are still alive.  You were reported missing and presumed dead over a hundred days ago when the dust storm first hit."

"Pig's arse!" The man pulled away from Stewart's hand. "We were down in that hole for no more than three days.  As I've said a dozen times already... the storm hit while we were hiking, we got separated from the group and took shelter in the rocks, the next thing we knew we woke up inside that place and were trapped.  We made the best of our situation with the supplies we had and waited for a rescue.  We were alone and then two or three days later those science blokes came down the steps and found us.  That's it, end of story.  Now can we go?"

Jon rubbed his temples, smearing the red grit that still covered him from head to toe beneath his fingers.  His body ached from exertion and lack of sleep, but he couldn't let that stop him.  He'd trained under tougher conditions than this.  He was born and bred to thrive in situations that would cause others to give in.  This was nothing compared to what he'd gone through during his childhood, when he had thirteen brothers and sisters to compete with.  All he needed to do was take a deep breath and relax his worried mind.  Push all of his fears for Dr. Whelan, Eve, and the Davis family to the side and try to make sense of things in the here and now.

'Get your head in the game, Jon.  One thing at a time, focus.  You'll have time to put the pieces together later.  God, why am I so fucking tired?'

"You okay, mate?" The angry man's demeanor seemed to completely change once he got a good look at Jon. "You look like you've been in quite a tussle."

Jon smiled at the concerned Australian. "Been a rough week."

"Looks it." The man made his way back to where his female friend still stood. "We've been having a rough go of it ourselves."

"I know.  Believe me I know.  I can't figure out why you two were pulled into that temple, nor can explain how.  I've been trying to work it out since I got word two days ago.  I'd like nothing more than to just drop you both off somewhere and get on with my business, but if I did that, things could get a lot worse for all of us.  The things that attacked my team are gone, but the people who sicked them on us are still out there somewhere, and they won't stop coming until this stone is in their possession." Jon pulled the black rock from his pocket, ran his thumb over the smooth surface, then let it drop on the table. "That's why you're still here.  I need answers."

Jon watched as the two of them looked to each other before retaking their chairs.  There seemed to be some kind of unspoken connection between them, a deeper understanding.

'They're much closer than a tour guide and tourist.  Something happened to them in that temple.  More than just bonding as a way to make it through a difficult situation.  Love?  Could they have fallen in love during the time they spent underground?'

Jon used the moment it took for him to sit down to review everything he knew about his two guests.  His photographic memory conjured an imaginary file folder in his mind, each page an exact replica of the real files he'd read two days ago.

The woman was Debra Manning, a thirty-five year old divorcee from Columbus Ohio.  She was a college grad who majored in history, but never put her knowledge to use.  During her senior year she met and fell in love with another student, George Phelps.  George played football but never had a chance of going pro.  He took business classes and after graduation already had a job lined up by his father as a computer salesman.  The pair got married almost immediately out of school, and only two months before their only child, Timothy, was born.

The young couple struggled to keep their heads above water.  George had several affairs while away on business, as Debra remained at home raising young Tim virtually alone.  A freak accident in a friend's car took Tim's life away at the age of twelve; the resulting grief tore away what few tenuous strings still kept the couple married.

After a very brutal divorce, Debra decided to take a vacation to the one destination she'd dreamed of since being a little girl.  For as long as she could remember she'd been fascinated by Australia, specifically Ayers Rock.  She'd been planning this trip since she was a teenager, and even listed it in her high school yearbook as one of her goals in life.  Once things settled down between her and George, she packed her bags and set off for a three-week vacation in the land down under.

That's where she met the man she was currently seated next to, thirty year old Brian Palmer.  Born and raised in Darwin, a city in Australia's Northern Territory, Brian developed a deep love for the outdoors.  After a family trip into the Kakadu National Park, he became fascinated with his homeland's Aboriginal people and natural history.  This outing set him on a path that eventually landed him a job as a park ranger.  He loved his job, but after working happily for five years in Kakadu government cutbacks took it all away.

He was devastated over his lost job, but never gave up on his dream.  He applied and was eventually given permission to start a private tour guide service (Rainbow Serpent Tours) for those visiting the park.  Thanks in no small part to his endless enthusiasm and overwhelming charisma, his business grew and expanded to include week long walkabout tours into the bush, guided rock climbing tours of Uluru, five day hikes through Katherine Gorge to Edith falls, and scuba dives off the Gove Peninsula.

Though his business was booming, his personal life had been rather stagnant.  He'd never had a problem picking up women, but keeping them around was a different story.  They loved his passion, his drive, his wit and charm, but they didn't like spending so much time apart when Brian was away running his tours.  Even after hiring a dozen other guides, his business kept him away from his home in Darwin (later in Alice Springs) for weeks at a time.  He remained single, but held out hope that he would find that one special girl who would understand that she would always be number two to his first love.

Jon had run through this information over and over again, searching desperately for something, anything, that would have set these two apart from the other people who had been near Uluru at the time the dust storm occurred.  Finding nothing, he turned to more tenuous threads.  Family trees, friends, shopping habits, reading materials, hell he even checked to see if they watched the same TV shows, but still nothing jumped out as a definitive connection.  The closest he came to finding any connection was when he discovered that the computer company that Debra's ex-husband worked for had been gobbled up in 2005 by Applied Dynamic Systems, which also owned Media Web Design, the company who created Rainbow Serpent Tours' website.  It was a stretch, even for Jon's imagination.

Brian slumped in his chair with his eyes closed. "Okay, what else would you like to know?"

Jon suppressed a yawn. "How did you know where to find the artifact?"

"I told you, I never saw that thing before.  I didn't tell you where to find anything."

"Of course you did.  Right after I arrived, the three of us met in my tent before I went down into the temple.  You told me exactly where to find it."

"Sorry mate, never happened.  Deb and I were never alone with you."

"Come on now, we most certainly did!  I remember it clear as day!"

"He's telling the truth!" Debra leaned over the table on her elbows. "From the time we were found until right now, one of your men has been with us.  We were never alone with you."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Jon's patience was wearing thin and his voice began to rise with his temper. "I have a photographic memory!"

"Uh, boss?" Stewart tapped Jon on the shoulder. "A word with you, in private."

Jon shot Deb and Brian one last hard glance before standing up and exiting the room with Stewart.

"What is it, you need a break?" Jon asked, annoyed at being pulled out of his line of questioning.

"Yes, but that's not why I pulled you aside."

"What, then?"

"They're telling the truth, Jon.  You never met with them alone."

"So, what?   Now you've lost your mind as well?"

"Jon, listen to me.  Either Rico or myself have been with them since the team arrived at base camp.  We never let them out of our sight, not even for a minute.  They were never alone with you, and now that I think about it, they were never in your tent, either."

"So, I'm just making all of it up?  It never happened?"

Stewart shrugged. "I don't know.  All I know is that I haven't been away from them until right now.  Hell, I even pissed with the door open so I could keep an eye on them."

"But I remember it," Jon argued. "It's in my head just like everything else that's happened in the last few days.  Why would I have a memory of something that didn't happen?"

"I don't know."

"How could I have possibly known where the artifact was if they didn't tell me?"

"I don't know."

Jon thought for a moment. "Is it possible that the memory was somehow implanted by them?  Did anyone test to see if they are Ether positive?"

"All the tests came back negative.  They have never used magic in the past, and I doubt either of them would even believe it possible until today." Stewart squinted at Jon through his glasses. "Are you okay, boss?  You don't look so good."

"Just tired." Jon forced a laugh. "Would you mind getting our guests and me some coffee?"

Stewart smiled. "I can shoot the cherry off a cigarette from over a mile away in a blizzard, I've attained a master level in six different forms of martial arts without the MERI's help, and I've infiltrated the most secretive and paranoid magic sects in the world to gather vital intel.  Why would I have a problem fetching coffee?"

"Just get the coffee, wise ass," Jon chuckled before returning to the conference room.

The pair seated at the table seemed even more tired than he was.  Debra was slumped over the table holding her face in her hands; Brian seemed barely able to keep his eyes open.  Neither of them stirred as Jon sat back down.

"Coffee's coming, now where were we?"

"You were calling us liars," Deb grumbled without looking up.

"Right." Jon leaned back into his seat. "I may have been wrong about that."

"No shit," sighed Brian, more as a thought let slip than something he meant to say out loud.

"Okay.  Okay, let's say that this conversation that I remember never happened.  It still doesn't..."

Jon's sentence fizzled as his eyes caught something odd.  The black stone on the table looked different.  It had been opaque before, but now seemed to be translucent.  It was still black, but had more of a smoky quality to it.

"That wasn't like that before." Jon spoke out loud though he didn't mean to. "Something's going on."

"Hmmm?" Debra's head slumped to the table to rest on her forearm. "What?"

"The artifact..." Jon fought an overpowering urge to close his eyes. "It's... it's doing something."

"That's good..." Brian mumbled as he sank even lower in his chair.

Jon's eyelids felt as if lead weights were tugging them down.  He struggled to stay awake even as his muscles gave up working.  His head dropped like a rock onto the steel table with a dull thud.  It should have hurt, it should have shocked him back into wakefulness, but the spell of the artifact was too strong to resist as it continued to lull him to sleep.

Just before his eyes fluttered closed he caught one last glimpse of the artifact.  It was crystal clear with unrecognizable symbols floating around inside, each one glowing with a soft golden light.  The lights blurred and merged into a single point of brilliance just as the darkness of sleep finally overtook him.

A black gloved hand reached into a small waste basket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.  After shaking out bits of broken glass from a shattered light bulb, the man dressed from head to toe in black assault armor carefully unfolded the balled up note.  It took him a moment to translate the hand written letter, the cursive letters being almost too artistic to read, but its contents gave him the confirmation he required.

"They were here." He handed the note to his superior. "This was written by their mother, she's the one who knew we were coming last night."

Two more men dressed in the same style descended the stairs to join the four others waiting in the living room of the home.

"The boyfriend definitely lived here, but it looks like he packed up in a hurry."

"The answering machine's tape is missing."

"No problem, we'll have Mobile Command review all calls into or out of this address for the past few days." Black Wolf strode through the home, his eyes scanning for any other clues to the whereabouts of his prey.  He'd rushed to this house as soon as Delta Team called in their report update.  Security video from the grocery store across the street confirmed that the children had left with an employee of the diner.  A few minutes of questioning the elderly hostess gave them a name for that employee, as well as a home address.

"Tests on the oil stains in the driveway confirm that two vehicles are parked here on a regular basis."

"What do we know about this place?"

"The owner of the home is also the boyfriend's uncle, Joseph Turner.  He has several vehicles registered under his name, any one of which could be responsible for the oil stains.  We'll need to do more testing to pin down exactly what kind of cars left them."

"Where is he right now?"

"He owns a business on the outskirts of town, Mystic Motors.  It's an autobody shop that does custom work.  We called posing as an interested client, Mr. Turner wasn't available but his secretary did confirm that he was there."

"What else do we know about him?"

"It's not the first time he's appeared in our database.  In the mid nineties through two thousand one he lived in NYC, used to run with that pain in the ass detective, Nick Stone.  Everyone should take note, he has used the art during our past contacts with him, and he's been marked with detection spells."

"The boyfriend?"

"Greg Bellman.  Eighteen years old, clean record, no reports of him using the art, but we should remain cautious since his uncle may have taught him a few tricks.  He nearly took the rap for arson and murder last year after the extraction team moved the target family.  Lone Wolf took measures to prevent the kid from being prosecuted for the crime, but has had zero contact with him since.  The kid did a short stint in a mental health center after a suicide attempt back in May of this year."

'Lone Wolf, you're getting sloppy.' Black Wolf picked up the photo album that he found next to the couch and flipped through the pages. 'You should have let the kid take the fall.  It would have given the public someone to hate.  People stop asking questions when they're full of hate.'

"Sir, we've found a small crop of marijuana growing in the basement as well as the paraphernalia needed to distribute.  Our records also show that some of the employees working at Mystic Motors may be undocumented.  I recommend our cover be either DEA or INS."

"No, we'll be acting as Homeland Security today.  Mr. Turner is about to find out that he's been funding extremists with his drug money, and harboring suspected terrorists within his home.  We'll call the real INS to take care of any illegals we come across; we don't have time to get involved with that.  Remember, the boy is the primary, not the sister.  If she gets in the way, take her out."

"Sir, is this still just a tag and track?"

"No." Black Wolf ground his teeth. "After what happened with his little sister I know what we're up against, and I'm personally going to bring that little fucker down.  Scum like him shouldn't be allowed to walk around free.  Suit up, we're moving out."

"Yes Sir!"

Rob sighed as he stared blankly through the window as the last remains of Greg's car vanished.  He'd been left alone in the garage's observation room as his sister, Greg, and Joe went to discuss what they needed to do and how to do it.  Rob felt his presence wasn't necessary so he remained behind as they worked out the details.

Despite the thickness of the glass partition, the voice of the radio DJ came through to announce that she still hadn't found a winner. "That was only caller number eighty, so keep on trying!  You're not going to find a better pair of tickets anywhere else!"

"Hey kid, mind tossing me one of those creamers?"

The gruff voice startled Robbie out of his daydream.  He spun on his heels to find the sleeping man now awake.  The guy remained seated on the couch, but hunched over the low coffee table as he slowly swirled a red plastic stirrer in a white Styrofoam cup of coffee.

"Uh, yeah, no problem." Rob grabbed a couple of the little white creamers from the dish in front of the window and placed them in the man's outstretched hand.

"Thanks." His voice sounded as if he gargled with gravel.

The guy didn't bother to look at Rob as he took the creamers.  He seemed totally focused on the inky black liquid steaming before him.  It wasn't until after he'd emptied the contents of the tiny plastic cups, gave the coffee one more stir and took a long sip, and then he turned to face the teenager.  His gray eyes locked firmly onto Rob, and yet they seemed to be staring at something far beyond him.

"So kid, what's got you so upset?"

"Huh?"

He cleared his throat, loosening some of the gruffness in his voice. "You've been standing there staring out that window, but something tells me you're not worried about a car."

"Oh, ah... it's nothing." Rob turned to continue his blank gazing.  The strange guy's stare was making him feel uncomfortable, as if he could see something within him that he wasn't even aware of.

"Come now, something's found its way up your ass.  Might as well speak your mind and get it out."

Rob thought about just walking out and leaving the guy alone, but something made him start talking.

"I was trying to get to Highland, but now my ride is going to New York."

The man chuckled. "So close and yet so far."

"Yeah."

"So, why not find another ride?"

Rob sighed. "It's complicated."

"Isn't everything?" The man stood up and arched his back until it cracked. "Be nice if life was simple, but things never seem to work out that way."

"Tell me about it." Rob leaned forward and pressed his head against the cold glass. "One day I'm sitting at home with my family, the next I'm being chased by men dressed in black body armor."

For a long moment Rob remained quiet, then what he had just said hit him like a ton of bricks. 'Oh shit!  Why did I just say that?'

"Kid, these guys in black, were any of them wearing something like this on their shoulder?"

Rob, still stunned by his slip up, slowly turned to face him.  He was digging deep into the inside pocket of his ugly trench coat, deeper than what should have been possible.  He was nearly in up to his shoulder when he found what he'd been hunting for.

"Ah, here it is."

He pulled out a black piece of cloth and handed it over to Rob to inspect.  The cloth seemed to have been torn from a uniform; its edges tattered and ragged.  In the center of the cloth was an embroidered black and white insignia depicting a bird whose feathers looked like flames rising up.  Between the bird's wings was a globe showing the Western Hemisphere, and below the bird two words were written that Rob didn't understand.

"What's 'Illustro Creperum'?"

"It's Latin.  Illuminate darkness."

Rob stared at the cloth as his finger and thumb ran over the intricate stitching.  He'd never seen it before, at least not that he could remember, but something about it was strangely familiar.

"So, were these guys wearing anything like this?"

"No, no I don't think so." Rob reluctantly handed the emblem back to the man.

"Eh," he shrugged, "it was a long shot anyway.  I don't think they wear these out in the open anymore."

Rob watched as he put it back into his coat.  Once again his arm disappeared into a space that was an impossibility, only to return with a crumpled pack of cigarettes.  Before he could strike a match, Rob had to ask, "Who are you?"

The man paused for a second. "Nobody," then he scratched the match, bringing its flame to life.

"Nobody, huh?" Rob came away from the window and sat in one of the nearby recliners, his curiosity piqued. "Joe said he knew you from when he lived in New York.  That you two were old friends, and that he called you Nick."

"That so?"

"Yup," Rob answered, a little cocky. "So which is it?  Are you Nobody, or are you Nick?"

The man took a long drag off his cigarette before blowing out a big cloud of gray smoke. "Sounds like Joey still doesn't know when to keep his fuckin' mouth shut, and you don't know when to let something go."

Rob felt like he may have overstepped his boundaries, gone too far with his questions.  He knew better than to provoke a crazy person, and this guy looked like a nut.  He suddenly wished he'd gone with Steph instead of staying behind.

"Do you know what happens to people who don't know when to stop asking questions?" the man growled low in his throat as his hand dove back into his coat, this time in a side pocket, where it searched frantically for something.

Rob looked for the exits, both too far away for him to reach if the guy pulled out a weapon.  He was trapped, and alone.

Quick as a flash the guy's hand whipped out of his coat and stopped just inches from Rob's face.  Rob jumped back so fast that his head bounced off the back of the chair.  His eyes snapped shut and his heart stopped as he waited for the gun to go off.

Instead of a gunshot, Rob heard only laughter.

"Relax, kid."

Slowly Rob opened his eyes.  The man's hand was still close to his face, but in place of an imagined loaded gun he held a small white business card.

"People who don't know when to stop asking questions, eventually start getting answers."

The man waited until Rob took the card with a shaking hand.  Rob flipped it over and read the simple black lettering.

Second Chance Detective Agency
Nick Stone, PI
New York, NY

"You're a cop?"

"No," Nick smiled. "I used to be.  Now I work for myself.  I handle cases that others won't or can't."

Rob found himself looking at a completely different person.  Though none of his stark features had changed, the warm smile on his face transformed him from a dangerous lunatic to a friendly old man.

"If you ever need some help, and you don't have anywhere else to turn," Nick stood up and stretched his legs, "just give me a call."

Rob looked back to the card. "But, there's no phone number."

Again Nick grinned. "Do you need my help right now?"

"No."

"Then there's no need for a phone number on my card, is there?"

"I guess not, but..."

"No 'buts'.  When you need it, it will be there."

'This guy may be nice, but he's still nuts,' Rob thought as he nodded and slipped the card into his pocket.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Nick moved to the window and scanned all the activity in the garage. "All this hoopla because of you?"

"Uh, yeah.   Those people I mentioned, they're still looking for us, my sister and me.  We came here to change cars."

"And Joey's doing everything he can to help you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good.  Joey's good at making things disappear.  You came to the right place." Nick put his back to the glass and rubbed his eyes. "Did Joe happen to mention how we met, back in New York?"

"No."

"He stole my car, the little shit."

"No way!" Rob laughed. "Greg's uncle stole you're car?"

"Yep.   He was about your age, the little punk." Nick chuckled with the memory. "Ran away from home and came to the big city, full of dreams.  When his fantasy didn't pan out, he fell in with a bad crowd.  Ended up stealing cars to make a living, and he was damned good at it, too good."

"How can someone be 'too good' at stealing cars?"

"Let's just say he had an unfair advantage."

Rob thought for a moment before speaking. "The Art?"

Nick gave Rob a long hard look. "Where did you hear that phrase?"

"Joe." Rob felt nervous again. "He, um, he said that I made his tattoos itch, and that it was because of something called the Art."

Nick looked him up and down, apparently sizing him up. "Yeah, I felt it too.  It's strong with you, a natural talent maybe, but unrefined.  You need to be careful, find someone who can teach you to handle it.  Just make sure that you don't go down a dark path.  There's no coming back from there."

"What are you talking about?  What is this Art?"

Again Nick's face broke into a huge smile. "It's magic, kid."

"What's magic?"

Nick laughed. "No, you don't get it.  The Art is what people who know how to use magic call it."

Now it was Rob's turn to chuckle. "What, like pulling rabbits out of hats and cutting women in half?"

"No, no, no.  Those are just tricks, deceptions.  The Art is real magic."

"Yeah, right." Rob thought he was having his leg pulled. "Abracadabra?"

"Okay then, tell me, why do you think those guys are chasing you and your sister?"

"I don't know.  Some kind of witness protection gone bad?"

Nick made a funny face. "What?  Maybe you should fill me in on how you got here."

Rob sighed. "Someone messed with our brains.  Apparently my family used to live in Highland up until last year, but we don't remember any of that.  We've been living outside of Miflin, and thought that's how it's always been.

"I started having these dreams about a little sister that I didn't know about.  My mom started acting real weird, so my older sister and I took off.  I was hoping to go to this convention in Highland to try and get my memory back, but we ran into Greg before we made it there.

"He used to be Steph's boyfriend, back before we lived in Miflin, and he filled us in on what our life was like before.  He said that we were supposed to be dead, and showed us newspapers to prove it.  Ever since we left early this morning, these guys in black cars have been chasing us.  So, I think that maybe our family saw something we shouldn't have, so the government moved us away and gave us a new life so that we wouldn't talk to the press.  Or something like that."

"Wow." Nick shook his head. "That's one I never came across before, but it still sounds like something Phoenix would do."

"Who's Phoenix?"

"A government agency that deals with the Art, and all those involved in it.  A bunch of bullies with a holier than thou attitude and a misinformed agenda.  They think that they're right and everyone else is wrong, and that's nothing but trouble for people like you and I."

"So you think that these Phoenix people are the ones after us?"

"Not only that, but I think they were the ones who messed with your heads in the first place.  They're known for meddling with things that they shouldn't, and eliminating anything or anyone who poses a problem to them." Nick scratched at his stubble-covered chin. "You may be in far bigger trouble than you thought."

"So, what should we do?"

"Well, Joe seems to be off to a good start.  He'll be able to get you two out of here and in the clear, but you'll have to keep your heads down for a while, at least until they move on to other things.  It would help if you could remember why they're after you in the first place."

"That's what I was trying to do, but now we're heading in the wrong direction."

"There're places in New York that could help you, you don't have to go to Highland for them."

"I know.  It's just..." Rob closed his eyes and slumped into the leather recliner. "I feel like I have to get to Highland for some reason.  I think that's where all my questions will get answered."

"You know that they'll be looking for you there, right?"

"Yeah, I know, but..."

"But you're so close you can almost taste it.  So close that the possibility of being caught pales in comparison?"

"Yeah, exactly." Rob shook his head. "But Stephanie, I don't want to put her in danger just because of me."

"Let her go with Greg to New York, and find another way to get to your answers.  It'd be better if you two split up anyway.  Harder to track down two people on their own than if you stayed together." Nick looked back into the garage. "I'd take you myself, but my car isn't fixed yet."

"So I'm right back where I started, then."

The door from the offices to the observation room swung open and in strode a guy in his mid twenties.  He was dressed nicely, but not in a suit or anything close to it.  He barely acknowledged Nick or Rob as he made a beeline to the window with his tiny cell phone pressed to his ear.

"Damn it!" he cursed as he hung up and quickly dialed a number before holding the phone to his ear again.

"Shit."

Again and again he repeated his actions.  Dialing, listening, cursing, then hanging up.  He was into his fifth attempt when he finally noticed that Rob and Nick were staring at him.

"Sorry, just trying to win some tickets," he apologized as he continued dialing. "It's a sold out show, and this girl I know really wants to go."

Nick studied the guy for a moment before speaking. "These tickets, if you won them, where would you go to pick them up?"

"Uh..." The man hung up and tried again. "Downtown Highland, at the radio station.  Why?"

Nick glanced at Rob and smiled. "If we win them for you, would you agree to give my friend a lift?"

"Yeah, right!" the guy chuckled. "I've been trying to win these tickets for two months."

Rob nudged Nick in the ribs and whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Trust me, kid." Nick put an arm around Rob before looking back toward the frustrated guy. "So, do we have a deal?"

"If you win me these tickets," the guy hung up yet again, "I'll give you my first born son!"

"Just a ride please, you can keep your kid." Nick dug into his pocket and pulled out a much older model of cell phone than the guy was using, nearly twice as big with a pull out antenna. "What's the number?"

Rob watched doubtfully as Nick dialed the numbers as the man gave them, and was dumbfounded when Nick handed him the phone.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Rob held the phone as if it were covered with thorns.

"It's a telephone, you use it to make phone calls," Nick smirked. "Push the 'send' button when you think the time is right."

"I don't even know what caller they're looking for?"

"Caller one hundred thirty-nine," the man offered. "I was just number one-fifteen."

Nick leaned down and turned Rob to face him.

"You wanted to know about the Art, but when you heard it was magic you dismissed it as a joke," he whispered quietly.  "Now you have one shot to get to Highland, to find those answers you've been looking for, and in order to do it you have to believe that magic is possible.  Not only possible, but as real as you and me."

"But..."

"No 'buts'.  One shot.  One chance.  Are you going to take it?"

Rob looked forlornly at the phone.  'What the hell, what have I got to lose?'

"Okay, how do I do it?"

"Close your eyes.  Hold the phone with your finger over the 'send' button.  Think about the radio station; picture it in your head."

"I've never been there."

"It doesn't matter.  Imagine it.  Once you see it in your mind, imagine the person who is answering the phone, the one who is telling everyone what number caller they are."

In Rob's mind he was creating a scene.  It was a small room, filled with electronics.  A sexy redheaded woman sat behind a large console, a pair of headphones hung loosely around her neck as a large microphone was mere inches from her full pink lips.  She was speaking, spouting higher and higher numbers between which she pressed blinking buttons on the console.  The vision of her was so real that he could even smell her perfume, a soft floral fragrance that smelt out of place in the stale air of the studio.

"Listen closely to this person.  What number are they on?"

"One thirty-two," Rob mumbled.

"Feel the phone in your hand, the weight of it.  Feel the button under your finger.  Imagine that there is a connection between you and that other person.  When they are about to answer to caller one thirty-nine, press the button and imagine that you are actually touching them."

Rob waited patiently as his heart raced, thundering in his chest.  Sweat trickled down his forehead.  He felt weightless, disembodied, here but not here.

'One thirty-six, one thirty-seven, one thirty-eight...'

"Okay, the security camera's have been taken care of, I've got a car waiting for the three of you outback, and as soon as you get to New York you take it to that address and leave it," Joe spoke hurriedly as he escorted Steph and Greg out of his office and back to the observation room. "After the car is taken care of, you call that number I gave you.  Bill's a good friend and he knows what he's talking about, so do whatever he tells you to do.  He'll also set you up with a new apartment, and don't worry, the rent's been taken care of."

"Really?" Greg was shocked. "How?"

"I have a lot more money than I ever let on.  That's some good advice for you, too.  Don't ever let anyone know everything about you; some secrets are best kept locked away."

"Thanks, Joe, I really appreciate this."

"No problem.  It's what family is supposed to do." Joe opened the door leading into the observation room. "Now lets get you three out of here before... hey, where's your brother?"

"He was here when we went to your office.  His backpack’s gone." Steph ran to the window and checked the garage. "I can't find him anywhere."

"Your VIP is missing too," Greg observed as he picked up an empty Styrofoam cup that had been left on the coffee table. "Do you think he took him?"

Joe didn't answer until he checked the garage himself. "His Chevy is gone, so it's possible.  Come with me."

The trio left the relative quiet of the observation room for the boisterous garage.

"Jose'!   Did my VIP just leave with that kid?"

Jose' pulled himself from under a black Nissan to answer his boss. "No.  The kid left with your one o'clock, the guy with the red Camaro who came in to have a new radio installed.  The VIP left a few minutes after them."

"Alright, thanks.  Get everyone who doesn't want to be deported out of here right now.  We're about to be raided."

"Shit!" Jose' stood up and blew a high pitched whistle with his fingers. "Vamanos!  Andele'!  Policia!"

Steph and Greg watched as half a dozen of the men working in Joe's garage dropped what they were doing and took off running.

"What about my brother?" Steph asked, full of concern.

Joe put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He'll be okay.  He left with one of my regular clients, one who happens to live in Highland Park, just minutes from downtown Highland.  Sounds like your brother isn't giving up on going to that convention."

Steph began to tear up. "But, but those people are still after us!"

"That's why you have to leave right now.  Don't worry about him; he can take care of himself."

Greg butted in, "But he's just a kid!"

"Maybe, but so far he's been able to evade those guys in black better than either of you could have.  If it weren't for him, you would have been caught by now.  So take this chance while you still can, get out of here and don't look back.  When Rob's done doing what he needs to do, I'm sure he'll find you."

Greg nodded then hugged his uncle tight. "Thanks Joe."

"No problem," Joe laughed, "College boy."

When Greg pulled away Steph immediately took his place, hugging the man even tighter.

"Thank you, for everything."

"My pleasure, beautiful.   You take care of my nephew, got it?"

Steph sobbed into his shoulder. "I will."

"I almost lost him once because of you," Joe whispered to her. "Don't let him do anything stupid like that again.  He loves you, probably more than you will ever know."

"We've got to go." Greg gently tugged at Steph's hand until she came free of his uncle. "Bye, Joe."

"Go on, get out of here." Joe tossed Greg the keys to the waiting car. "Don't forget to call that number, and do whatever Bill tells you to do.  Don't give him any lip, just do it.  Understand?"

"Got it!" Greg and Steph called back as they raced out of the garage.

 Joe waited until the two of them were in the car and away before returning to his office.  He had some things to do before his unwelcome guests arrived.  He barely had a chance to sit down behind his desk when the door to his office was kicked open.

"Homeland Security!   Down on the ground!  Now!"

Joe smiled at the men dressed in black as he slowly got down on the floor and placed his hands behind his head.

"What can I do for you boys?"

"Shut up and stay down mother fucker!"

He was going to make another comment but a sharp kick to the back of his head put him out.