Chapter 2

Who are these guys?

“Boss, I tried to do the “cold call” thing. It was a bust. A big bust. I gave my name to the receptionist in the office and asked to speak to Natalie Benson, and the secretary took my name and sent me to a seat in their reception room. I recognized Hank Lambert coming in and he stopped at the receptionist’s desk, picked up a couple of messages, and went back to the offices. After about thirty minutes, I wandered over to the receptionist and asked If there was any idea of when Ms. Benson would be available. And I got this message verbatim.”

At this point, a frustrated and almost out of breath Karen stopped talking for a moment and then continued.

“So then the receptionist says to me “For you, Ms. Karen Pullman, seven to ten business days after you reply with the questionnaire we sent to your offices at Milbank, Tweed, Hadley and McCloy. We know you are a busy woman, Ms. Karen Pullman, of 6545 Oliver Street, in Chevy Chase Village in Montgomery County Maryland. And that you are obviously too important to be sitting in our reception area simply because you didn’t follow instructions. And we don’t expect you to wait around for ten days in our waiting room on the off-chance possibility that you can sneak in early.” “

“Sounds like what others have said about these guys. No level of respect. And not intimidated.” William said.

“Boss, I have no idea of what to do now.” Karen said over the phone. “When I tried to argue with her, she simply placed her hands on her desk, and a large guy came into the office from the hallway and asked if there was any trouble. And could I please come along down to the retail floor, as my time here was expired.”

“That’s unfortunate.” William said. “I take it you hadn’t sent them your CV before you went down there.”

“I gave them my name at the desk and said it was for a promotional publication. How they got all that they did so fast was a surprise to me.”

“Hang around the retail stuff and see if you can do a snag. I’ll have Harvey send a reply to their Fax machine and see what we get back.”

Damn, William Webster thought to himself, I miss having the FBI as a lever. Then again, this outfit was pretty hard to crack even for the feebs.

So, Karen went retail shopping the following day. And she got shocked. The goods in the furnishings store were all heirloom quality. Fit and finish of stitching on covers, the wood polished to a glow, and vases and other plant holders were all first rate. “This stuff belongs in a museum gift shop.” Karen thought to herself. The prices reflected the quality and Karen thought that she needed a raise if she was going to shop here.

The Jewelry store across the foyer was even higher quality. The Tiffany’s in Washington DC didn’t hold a candle on this place. Intimate, warm, lights over every display case, and jewels that took her breath away. A necklace of Cubic Z that looked like it belonged on an empress, and earring studs that screamed “Look at me” adorned the heads in the display cases. The price lists were interesting. N prices and C prices were on almost every item, and the delta from N to C was thousands of dollars. The Salesperson wasn’t able to give her a satisfactory answer besides “Carefully cleaned and fitted.”

“There’s no fitting that justifies a five-thousand-dollar difference” Karen thought to herself.

That was before she saw a young woman who approached the salesperson and asked for the four carat Cubic Zirconia to be “Charged and Fitted”.

“Do you need that today” the clerk asked.

“Yes, if possible.”

“Ok. Take this with you to the Lounge next door and Paula or Peter should be able to help you.”

Karen’s jaw almost hit the floor. And she watched as the woman walked out of the store and turned left toward the rear of the building. No money had changed hands. No check, no credit card, no sign of any sort of transfer of funds. WTF?

Going outside of the jewelers and watching she saw the woman enter through a large wooden door down the hallway. Following her she reached to the door handle, and it shocked her. Not badly, but enough to make her take her had off of the nice bright brass door lever.

“WTF?” Karen thought to herself.

“Can I help you, Miss?” a voice asked from behind Karen’s head.

Karen turned around and looked up. And up. And saw the face of the man that escorted her out of the office the previous day. Karen suddenly felt very small. Which was unusual, to say the least.

“I’m just curious. The salesperson said that there was a Lounge here, and I wanted to get in and be able to sit down for a few minutes and maybe get a drink.”

“Mr. Hank.” Auger said mentally to Hank Lambert.” There’s some lady here that was bothering Carla yesterday. She’s trying to get into the Lounge. The door stopped her. Should I let her in?” Auger thought to Hank. Who was working inside doing a fitting for Denise. Who was a dowager hedge witch from Florida.

“Aha. Ms. Karen returns. I’m almost finished with Denise here. Wait another minute and then let her in.”

“Ma’am, this is a private club. Entrance by invitation only. Do you know any of the membership?”

“Hank Lambert”. Karen said. It’s worth a try.

“Lord Lambert is a friend of yours?” The extremely tall man asked again.

“I believe he will be. I’m here to do interviews of his management style.” Karen continued.

“Ok. I’ll let you in. He’s just finishing up with a client.”

When the large man reached for the door handle, Karen was surprised that there was no reaction. The door opened easily to allow her admittance to the comparatively darkened interior of what looked like an old English Pub. Complete with a round brazier fireplace in the center. Evidently a glowing light show. No sense of flame or heat. Just the warm and colorful glow of a fireplace. With flames of all manner of colors, ranging from violet to yellow to green to a warm white. “This is unusual. I’ve never seen gas flames these colors before. And it’s almost hypnotic.”

At the seats near the bar, Karen recognized Hank Lambert sitting, talking with the woman that had left the jewelers a few minutes ago. Watching, Karen saw the woman kissed Hank. Nott passionately, but like a friend. On the cheek. Not on the lips. As Karen approached, the woman gracefully walked away and out of the Lounge.

“So, I ‘m glad we finally meet, Karen Pullman. I understand you are looking to do some sort of management review of our company?”

This character is too cool, Karen thought to herself. Somehow, this kid is entirely too calm. He is either a total and stupid innocent, or an absolute psychopath. I guess I must figure this out for myself.

“So. What do you really want to know about our management team? Are you really looking into our small company, or are there other things that your employer is looking to find out?” Hank asked with a straight face.

Psychopath. It has to be. “Good morning, Mr. Lambert. You are quite a challenge for anyone to get to talk to you directly.” Karen said.

“Not if they would clothe all of their interrogators in as attractive a form as you.” Hank replied.

“Hank, chough up the blarney stone and talk normal. Or are you trying to imitate a brain starved teenager?” Natalie’s voice echoed in his ear.

“Why, Mr. Lambert. You are quite complimentary. I cannot imagine you being impressed after seeing the fashions you have across the hall. But if you have a few moments, I would love to talk with you” Karen said as she tried to ooze sexual attractiveness.

I was seated with my back to the bar, and I kept noticing that Karen’s eyes kept flickering toward the large mirror we have above it. It was one piece, and it was designed to reflect out to the floor everything from the bar and from the Fumeral that was in the center of the space.

“Karen, I notice that you keep looking at the mirror. What is it you see?” I asked.

“Nothing. It’s just that I have never seen a fire pit that was so colorful, with the flames in all different shades of orange, and blue and green. And yellow streaks as well. Yet it does not seem to be hot at all. It’s beautiful. Sorry, I was distracted.”

“Really? You see all shades of color in the flames?”

“Yes. And they go up almost two feet, but I don’t feel any heat. You must have some great optical effects here.” Karen said to me.

“Yes, we are proud of this place. It’s the most restful place in Augusta, I think. Old English Club sort of affair. Ok. Let’s get your interview over with. What would you like to drink? We can grab a table over there and conduct it here and now”. I said as I motioned her toward the Fumeral “fire pit” that so vividly grabbed her attention.

We spent the next hour sitting at a table adjacent to the Fumeral, with Karen doing very open questioning of me about my life, my schooling, my business, my relationships, and my history in the artifact (sorry, custom and antique jewelry) business. She was very impressed that I pulled out the six by nine notebook and pen. “I’ve never had people I have questioned take notes with question and answers.”

“I find it’s best to do it that way. The idea of open and circular questioning that gets the same answers, unless you are lying is a waste of time. I never lie. This way I can keep things straight and not have to worry about the defective tape recorder in your pocket. If you want, I can share these notes with you later.”

Shit. Karen thought to herself. He’s got me. I clicked it on when we moved away from the bar. What did he mean it was defective?

“Karen, take the recorder out of your pocket and look at it. See the little wheel where the tape drive is sitting? Notice that it’s not spinning. And that the tape is melted. Let me know what it cost you and I’ll get you funds to replace it. But don’t use it around me. Things like that break.” I said.

Karen took the Panasonic micro recorder out of her pocket. The tape was a liquid mess. The wheels were not spinning. The unit looked like it was fried in the stove.

“What the hell?” I said

“Here, copy my notes so you can take them with you. Not that anyone is going to believe anything you have to say after today.” I said.

Karen began to get agitated and replied sharply “I don’t know that anyone would ignore me about my reciting what happened here. I don’t know how you fried electronics at room temperature, but I am sure I can convince the people that know me.”

“Karen. I have to use the restroom; can you do me a favor? Hold this for me while I go and I promise I will be back in a couple of minutes.”

“Hold what?”

I held my right index finger and thumb together and smiled and gradually widened the space between the two. The ball of light that I formed grew in response to my fingers and I stopped growing it when It was the size of a golf ball. I pulled Karen’s hand across to me and put it in her palm and told her “Just hold this for me. I’ll be right back.”

The shocked look on Karen’s face as the light ball sat comfortably in her palm, providing light without heat, and her looking at it and then at me as I walked away was priceless.

“What? How? How did he?” crossed Karen’s mind as she sat and looked at the white ball in her hand, that should have burned her but didn’t’. Reaching with her other hand, she put it in her right hand while looking at her left palm. No sign of burn or other injury. The damn thing just sat there, like a white light bulb, radiating light from her hand all around the room. And it didn’t hurt.

“Damn it, the kid’s gone and done it again” Peter said as he walked into the Lounge. Auger was there, in his Geas, watching as well with a silly smile on his face.

“I remember when Hank did that to me the first time. Damn power wizard is never in the dark regardless.” Auger said quietly.

Riska looked at the woman, who was totally focused on the ball, and brought over another drink. “Miss, I think you want this.” Riska said, dropping his Geas. “Might as well get comfortable.”

When I got back to the room from the bathroom, I saw a sight that I almost was assured would be the beginning of a long conversation. Karen was sitting there at the table, moving the light ball from one hand to the other, while looking at Riska (who has dropped his geas and looked entirely like he had ears too long) and at Auger (who has also dropped his geas, was sitting on the couch and looked tall and green) and occasionally at Peter. Who was trying to hold a conversation with the woman while she was focused on the two Fae, the ball in hand and had drained a drink (Scotch, I think).

“Hank, I know you usually demonstrate good judgement in what you do. But WHAT IN THE HELL is going on here?” Peter’s question barged into my mind.

“Not even a “knock Knock” Peter? Isn’t that rather rude.

“It depends on how far you are showing your excessive sense of self-worth. Or something.”

“Peter. The woman sees colors in the Fire pit. Green, and orange and blue and all the rest of the rainbow.” I said calmly to him.

“Riska, I think we all need a refill. I have a feeling that this is going to be a long conversation.” Peter said to the grey elf.

“Coming right up. Drinks or bring the bottle?”

“Bottle.”

“Do you prefer bourbon, Karen, or is the scotch still Ok?”

Karen’s Reactions

I’m sitting in an old style pub, with wood paneled walls and a bar and a fire pit in the middle. And talking with a creature with long ears, and pure white hair, sitting across from a giant green man and bouncing a ball of light between my hands. And it’s eleven o’clock. And I am not drunk. And the guy with long hair is asking me what I want to drink.

“Southern Comfort, cold glass. No Rocks.” I said.

“Seventy or hundred proof?” the guy askes.

“Seventy. It’s looking like a long day.” I replied.

“Karen, to ease the sensibilities of my poor friends here, can you look at the firepit and tell me what you see? What colors?” The kid asked when he got back and sat down.

“Peter, I hit her with a truth spell early on, when I was talking with her.” Hank said.

“I told you. Orange, and blue and green flames. All the colors of a rainbow. But there’s no heat. No heat from this light ball either but there should be. What the hell is going on here?” Karen asked, getting agitated.

“Here, Karen. Your drink order.” Riska said, passing over a glass of brown heaven.

“What do I do with this?” Karen asked.

“Put it in your pocket. Or in the Ashtray. They are clean. You can watch it that way.” Hank said in response.

“Kid, your cheshire grin is showing.” Peter said. “And I think the lady is looking for answers to other questions.”

“OK. So let’s go over what you were initially asking about. I’m twenty-three years old, I graduated from high school on a hardship graduation because my parents both were murdered. This was after I had been a Wizard for a year and a mage for a year and a half.”

I started to write this down, since my recorder was blown up, but he interrupted me.

“Karen, I’ll tell you the story, and make sure you remember it. But you won’t tell anyone about it. Because it will seem that you are babbling insane things to the world.”

“That depends on how crazy things are. And what’s believable” Karen retorted.

“Can you convince people about six impossible things before breakfast?” I asked

“I read Alice in wonderland. And yes, I can.”

And then Karen had a shock. She thought about it. Who would she tell? And who would believe her? And what would the reactions be? And what?

Suddenly a woman entered from the front door. It was the face of Natalie Benson, the woman I originally was also supposed to interview. She was carrying a file folder with a lot of papers in it and looked around and saw us at the fire pit. “Riska, Scotch on the rocks for me, please” she said as she walked over to where we were sitting.

Shocks in a Bar

The next hour was a swirl of shocks Karen, ranging from seeing her own cva., her various applications and feedback from the FBI academy, her evaluations while she was there, all of her high school transcripts and college papers, and all of the reports that she had already worked on for Milbank, including files that were in her desk at the office, eight hundred miles away.

Every piece of professional and personal paperwork that was out there. And the medical update letters she had for her nephew and his leukemia treatment at Saint Jude’s hospital.

“Where the fuck did you get this?” Karen asked, with rising temper.

“Settle down, Karen. We’ll explain all of it in a few minutes.” Hank said.

Suddenly, a ghostly form of an eagle sprang from Natalie’s shoulders. Only there were a couple of things that were different about it. First it was pure white, in a faintly transparent way. Second it had two heads. It squawked, and flew over to the corner and stood on a parch, preening itself.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just stretching.” Natalie said. “Now, is there anything we missed in your file?” Natalie continued.

Karen’s emotions were in a swirl. Anger, Denial, shock. Whatever can be imagined. She was hit with all of it at the same time. These perfectly normal middle-class people were calmly sitting and talking with her while all this impossible shit was flying around. And to them it was NORMAL?

“No, there is entirely too much here. How the Hell did you get all of this? And when?”

“Isn’t that what you came down here to find out?” Hank asked calmly. “The six impossible things before breakfast? Only this time it’s almost lunchtime. Auger, what’s on the lunch menu?”

The big green guy smiled, and then said “Lunch menu coming up. We can also have both a meatless and meat sampler for everyone.”

The big guy stood up and wandered behind the bar and out a door that appeared suddenly that went back to a kitchen. The wall reformed after he passed through.

“So, is that six or seven? Let’s see if I can count them up. One, Riska the Elf. Two, Arno the Oger. Three, Lech the bird. Four, the firepit. Five, the ball of light there on the table. Six, your complete history. And last, all of your nephew’s illness records at St. Jude’s, where you are contributing to your brother’s costs. Yea, that’s seven, I think.” Hank said.

“Don’t forget the shock of the doorknob.” Peter said. “Auger had to open it to let her in.”

“Yea, I didn’t count that because she already had a blank of it in her mind. It was listed as a nothing.” Hank replied. “I’ll tell you what, Karen. If you want, we can connect you with an editor in New York to have him read your reports and you can build a fantasy book. Probably one for Children. Make a fortune. Because I can guarantee that no one else will read whatever you are putting in a report and believe it. And that it will disappear as soon as they read it, to vanish into a black hole in the information highway.”

“That’s why I am here. Shit disappeared and people didn’t know how or why.” Karen said. And I absolutely hated myself for saying anything. I should never have let out the real reason for why I was here.

“What shit, Karen?” Peter asked.

“William Webster lost all of the Stephenson documents when he was running the FBI. When he tried to recover them when he headed up the CIA, there was no record of Stephenson in either agency. This place was a black hole. A mystery. Webster does not like mysteries.” Karen replied. And cursed at herself for giving away that much information. WHAT THE FUCK!

“Hank, what are we doing here?” Natalie asked.

“Karen, can you do me a favor, look at the fire pit and tell me what you see?” Hank asked me again.

“I told you. I see a lot of flames and don’t feel any heat. They are red, and orange and violet and green and a host of other colors and it reaches almost two feet up and there’s no heat.”

“My God. Pre-emergent? A new one?” Natalie said.

Karen looked around and saw a cheshire grin on Hanks Face. She saw a look of awe on Natalie’s face. And on Peter’s face, the look of a man who was just handed an extra-large bucket of soapy water and told to wash the floor. Or clean the toilet.

“Kid, you dumped the bucket over for a woman saying that she saw colors in the flames?” Peter asked.

“Peter. The Fumeral is turned off. What she sees is the venting from around the base.”

“Okay, So, she sees it. But we don’t know if she has expressed any use of it.” Peter said.