Evil Ways by Justin Gustainis

lead. I figure, something like this, it can't stay secret forever. So I'm asking around, talking to people who might've heard something I can use. Like your own self."
    Hester shook his head slowly. "Haven't picked up a thing, sorry. Although…" He drained his glass and signaled for a refill. "I don't know if this has got anything to do with your business, but I did hear that a curator at the National Museum over in Baghdad has figured out that the Book of Shadows is missing. They haven't a clue about how it was lifted, or by who, or even when."
    "The one supposed to've been written by the mad Arab, what's-his-name, Alhazred? I thought that was bullshit, just like the Necronomicon."
    "Don't be too sure about that one either, mate. But I know the fuckin' Book of Shadows is real —I saw it with me own eyes, years ago. They were keepin' it under real tight lock and key, in a vault under the museum. A bloke I knew who worked there, he owed me a favor. So I had him give me a tour of the stuff that the tourists never see. Just as well Saddam never heard about that little episode, or my mate would've been in for a trip to the acid baths, most like. Jealous of his secrets, Saddam was."
    "Okay, let's say that the book's real, and that somebody's ripped it off. What's that got to do with my problem?"
    "Don't be thick, Quincey. You know what kind of stuff's supposed to be in that bloody thing. Imagine an adept of the Left-Hand Path with that book, along with all the magical power gained from those nasty kiddie sacrifices you've been talking about."
    Morris looked at him, then reached for his own glass and drained it in one gulp. "Something pretty damn scary, most like."
    "You got that right." Hester shrugged, wrinkling his thousand-dollar sport coat even further, if that were possible. "Course, that don't mean the two things are connected, at all. We got no reason to believe they are."
    "I know," Morris said. "But, still…"
    "Yeah," Hester said, and took another drag off his cigarette. "But bloody still."
    The two men were silent for a bit until Hester said, "You didn't come out to Chicago just to chat me up, did you? I'd have stopped off in Austin, if you asked me to."
    "No, I'm meeting Libby Chastain. She's due in on a flight from New York in a couple of hours."
    "Ah, the fair Libby. How's she doing, then?"
    "Not bad, except when people are trying to kill her."
    "Christ, what the hell for?"
    Morris sketched the details, as he knew them, of the attempt on Libby's life.
    Hester shook his head. "And she's got no idea who's trying to snuff her? Not even a guess?"
    "She says no. We're going to try to sort it out, as soon as I get this thing for the FBI finished. She's going to help me out on that, and I'll watch her back in the meantime."
    "So, why Chicago?"
    "I want to look up a guy I know who lives here. He's in the business, too, and we're hoping that maybe he's heard something."
    "You can't just ring him up, and ask him?"
    "This guy doesn't do too well around machinery. It tends to malfunction."
    "Right, okay, I know who you mean, now. Chicago's resident wizard."
    "The very same. And if we come up empty with him, there's a couple of other fellas in town I can talk to. They don't much like telephones, either."
    Hester nodded, frowning. "If I didn't have a couple of mates who need me in the Big Smoke, right quick and real bad, I'd stick around and help you with this mess."
    "I know you would, podner, and I appreciate that."
    "Next round's mine," John said, reaching for his wallet. "Besides, I need a full glass, to make a toast I have in mind."
    After Hester ordered another round, Morris said, "You know, I've always wondered how you fit in among the dons of Cambridge, talking like, uh…"
    "A diehard product of the workin' class?" Hester smiled at Morris with half his mouth, then said, in a posh accent that Prince Charles might have envied, "In point of fact, I do possess the ability to speak in a manner more befitting my station, on