don’t see what that has to do with Fred,” Jamie said.
“We know that Rita and Cassandra kidnapped her, despite the official story of her disappearance. We’re hoping Fred might know how we could find them. They seem to have vanished without a trace. Nobody knows where they went. Fred, are they out of the country?”
“You might say that.”
“Why do you need to talk to those two women?” Carl asked.
“Because.” Eric exhaled slowly. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.”
“Well….” Eric made a fist with one hand and slowly opened it, staring at it as he did. Then he turned to face Carl. “We’re working on a serious case that we think might involve magic, but we’re not sure. We’re trying to find a real witch to help us.” He dropped his hand by his side. “That’s what Terry and I do. We’re in a special unit that deals with supernatural activities.”
Nova arched her eyebrows. “Really?”
“It’s more like a joke,” Terry said with a frown.
“What do you mean by a special unit?” Rachel said.
“Well, it started back in the 1950s when the army began recruiting psychics and other paranormals to give us an edge over the Soviets.”
“And they created a super-secret division that became part of the CIA,” Eric added. “It had a pretty large budget and was well-staffed, but it has shrunk over the years and there aren’t many agents in it now. I got assigned to it in a sideways promotion, if you know what that means.”
“It means since it’s hard to fire you,” Carl said, “they put you in a not-very-desirable job, hoping that you’ll quit.”
Rachel shot Carl an angry look. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”
Eric made a sour face. “It’s true, though.”
“We’re the brunt of a lot of jokes at the agency,” Terry said. “This one guy calls me X-Files . He thinks that’s so damn funny. I want to punch his lights out.” She scowled and picked up her coffee cup from the table.
“Why don’t they just shut the unit down?” Nova said.
“Our boss seems to think it’s important for some reason,” Eric said. “He manages to keep enough funding for us, but just barely. I’ve been forced to become a field agent, but I’m not really supposed to be one. I’m trained to be an analyst, sitting at a desk.” He tightened his mouth. “I should be going home every night to my own bed.”
Carl leaned back in his chair and considered the lanky agent. “You said you needed Rita and Cassandra to help you with a case. What’s that about?”
Eric idly twisted his coffee cup around where it sat on the table and watched it rotate for a moment. “There’s a former mercenary and arms dealer named Phillip Cage, who has changed careers and become a free-lance assassin of sorts, only he’s using unusual methods to carry out his hits.”
“What do mean, unusual?” Jamie said.
“He doesn’t kill his targets. At least not all of them, though he used to. He seems to be using something on his victims that permanently incapacitates them in a strange way. They lose most of their memory, like someone with advanced Alzheimer’s or a stroke. It has totally baffled doctors who have examined these cases, because it’s not like anything we’ve seen before. At first, we thought Cage was using a drug, but we’ve found no traces of any in the victims’ blood or at the crime scenes. After reviewing some of the intel we have on him, which is scanty at best, we think he might be using something supernatural. Though I know that sounds ridiculous.”
“We’ve managed to intercept a few calls,” Terry said, “and a couple of times he’s made references to potions and witches. We think he might be utilizing some witch’s magic to help him, and the witch, or witches, are Romanian.”
“What? Jamie jerked upright in his chair. “By any chance, does this guy speak Russian?”
“Yes,” Eric said, “though he’s an American citizen. Why do you ask?”
Jamie’s
“We know that Rita and Cassandra kidnapped her, despite the official story of her disappearance. We’re hoping Fred might know how we could find them. They seem to have vanished without a trace. Nobody knows where they went. Fred, are they out of the country?”
“You might say that.”
“Why do you need to talk to those two women?” Carl asked.
“Because.” Eric exhaled slowly. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.”
“Well….” Eric made a fist with one hand and slowly opened it, staring at it as he did. Then he turned to face Carl. “We’re working on a serious case that we think might involve magic, but we’re not sure. We’re trying to find a real witch to help us.” He dropped his hand by his side. “That’s what Terry and I do. We’re in a special unit that deals with supernatural activities.”
Nova arched her eyebrows. “Really?”
“It’s more like a joke,” Terry said with a frown.
“What do you mean by a special unit?” Rachel said.
“Well, it started back in the 1950s when the army began recruiting psychics and other paranormals to give us an edge over the Soviets.”
“And they created a super-secret division that became part of the CIA,” Eric added. “It had a pretty large budget and was well-staffed, but it has shrunk over the years and there aren’t many agents in it now. I got assigned to it in a sideways promotion, if you know what that means.”
“It means since it’s hard to fire you,” Carl said, “they put you in a not-very-desirable job, hoping that you’ll quit.”
Rachel shot Carl an angry look. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.”
Eric made a sour face. “It’s true, though.”
“We’re the brunt of a lot of jokes at the agency,” Terry said. “This one guy calls me X-Files . He thinks that’s so damn funny. I want to punch his lights out.” She scowled and picked up her coffee cup from the table.
“Why don’t they just shut the unit down?” Nova said.
“Our boss seems to think it’s important for some reason,” Eric said. “He manages to keep enough funding for us, but just barely. I’ve been forced to become a field agent, but I’m not really supposed to be one. I’m trained to be an analyst, sitting at a desk.” He tightened his mouth. “I should be going home every night to my own bed.”
Carl leaned back in his chair and considered the lanky agent. “You said you needed Rita and Cassandra to help you with a case. What’s that about?”
Eric idly twisted his coffee cup around where it sat on the table and watched it rotate for a moment. “There’s a former mercenary and arms dealer named Phillip Cage, who has changed careers and become a free-lance assassin of sorts, only he’s using unusual methods to carry out his hits.”
“What do mean, unusual?” Jamie said.
“He doesn’t kill his targets. At least not all of them, though he used to. He seems to be using something on his victims that permanently incapacitates them in a strange way. They lose most of their memory, like someone with advanced Alzheimer’s or a stroke. It has totally baffled doctors who have examined these cases, because it’s not like anything we’ve seen before. At first, we thought Cage was using a drug, but we’ve found no traces of any in the victims’ blood or at the crime scenes. After reviewing some of the intel we have on him, which is scanty at best, we think he might be using something supernatural. Though I know that sounds ridiculous.”
“We’ve managed to intercept a few calls,” Terry said, “and a couple of times he’s made references to potions and witches. We think he might be utilizing some witch’s magic to help him, and the witch, or witches, are Romanian.”
“What? Jamie jerked upright in his chair. “By any chance, does this guy speak Russian?”
“Yes,” Eric said, “though he’s an American citizen. Why do you ask?”
Jamie’s
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