The Unskillful Thaumaturge

VII

"My meeting is today."

"What meeting?" Leslie asked, busy digging through the mess that covered her bed.

"The DIAO wants to do some tests on me. An interview and a DNA test and stuff."

"What on Earth for?" With a small cry of triumph, Leslie finally managed to fish out her anthropology homework.

Lillian just shook her head. "I don't know. They're going to tell me when I get there."

"What time?"

"One o'clock."

"Look, Lil, I'm sure it's going to be fine. I can't say any more." She followed Daria out the door. "Good luck!"

Lillian slumped in her chair. There were three classes sandwiched between now and the meeting, with no more than half an hour between any of her appointments. It was going to be a long day.

☙❧

I told you not to try that again, the voice in Dakota's head scolded.

"I'm going to, no matter what you say about it. It might just work." Dakota finished dialing the number and held the phone up.

"You really shouldn't be calling me," the woman on the other end complained. "I told you what I thought you needed to know. Don't call me again. If need be, I'll destroy this phone." The line went dead.

Told you.

"At least I got her."

Them, not her. I don't think they want to talk. They want you to wait, apparently.

"That was a woman."

Please, let's respect them. 'They' is what they're used to. What they prefer.

"Doesn't matter. If they do want us to figure it out, we'd better keep an eye out for someone looking for us." Dakota adjusted his beanie.

Oh, I think we'll know.

☙❧

Derek strode into the conference room with a thin file folder in his hand. "Here you go," he stated, and plopped down in a chair.

Galena, on the other end of the conference room table, slid the folder towards herself. "Did you find any other information since the meeting yesterday?"

"Sure." Derek smiled. "I managed to talk briefly with the police officers who arrested that kid. He was loitering around the edge of Alton Baker Park, not eating, not going to school, nothing. When they arrested him he was wearing jeans, a T-shirt with a picture of a bat- the animal, I mean- on it, a pair of flip flops, and a beanie hat that he refused to take off. November 1978, by the way. He was carrying no money, no food, no ID, only a little hand mirror in his back pocket that they confiscated. That's in the file, and a picture of the kid and what he was wearing. He was totally healthy, but he did talk to himself. Next morning they came to give him breakfast and found him dead in his cell, poor guy. No discovered cause. Refused to divulge any information about himself. Oh, and apparently, he had this strange accent. Said everything kind of slow and had these weird pauses where some of his T's should have been."

"You got all this out of an interview?"

"Three interviews," Derek replied. "Over phone. Kind of a memorable thing, you know? All of the former officers I was able to locate had at least some memory of it. Kid comes in, dies just like that. By the way, Assistant Director, can I ask you something?"

"Galena," she corrected automatically. "Yeah?"

"Why are we looking at this guy?"

"It's complicated. We found this kid's fresh fingerprints on a key that was given to us by a girl named Bankhurst who said that a stranger dropped it when he came to her door."

"What's going on with Bankhurst?"

"You'll see when she comes in at one."

☙❧

Rolf strode into the conference room, Janelle and Evan following behind with blood test and DNA sampling equipment bundled in their arms. They began setting the equipment up at the end of the table where Lillian was to sit. Erica, the thaumaturgy specialist, regally walked in and seated herself near the head of the table on Rolf's right. Diane made herself comfortable next to Derek as Janelle lifted a nasty-looking butterfly needle out of a small box and set it carefully on the table, connecting it to a long tube. Derek pulled a tape recorder out of his bag and set it next to a piece of notebook paper, presumably for recording the interview.

"Derek?" Rolf asked expectantly.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to do some research on this girl after she leaves. Do any of you do police sketching? Well, not for the police but you know what I mean."

Diane put up her hand and Derek flicked her a blank piece of paper. She took it gladly, pulling a pencil out of the knot of hair in back of her head and tapping it impatiently against the page.

"Good. Janelle, Evan, you have those tests prepared?" Evan nodded and gave Rolf a thumbs up.

"Erica, have you been looking into possible explanations for the dead kid's fingerprints?"

"Yeah, there are none. Evidently the body is real, since it was before the Thaumatogenesis, but I can't figure out how anyone would get those prints on the key."

"Galena, is there anything else I need to know?"

"I was just talking to Derek about the dead kid," Galena explained, "and he found some new information. You should take a look at the file."

"Sounds good," Rolf confirmed. "Everyone briefed on the Bankhurst girl?"

Half the table shook their heads.

"Great," Galena muttered sarcastically. "Let's get that done before she comes in here."