Wizard for Hire
Chapter Seventeen — The Terrible Trouble with the Terrorist Wizard

When I would be interrogated by my father for some wrongdoing, whether innocent or guilty, it would take me a few days to lift the sense of injustice. To wallow in the mire of the feeling that the world was against me. But it soon lifted. That, I assumed was what the wizard was up to. Wallowing. Not that I had him down as the type.

Keeping a keen ear trained upon my bedroom ceiling, I awaited sound of his return. Not least for the fact that I could tell him my newfound knowledge. But, not a sound was made all night.

Sitting in the kitchen the next morning, I resisted going up to his room again, having checked it several times, including under his bed, in the space behind his bookcase (to which I received lots of happy licks to the face from Harry), and even inside the now reflective mirror.

I went to the kitchen, made a cup of coffee and put the radio on, as was my Saturday routine. But I couldn’t relax, something felt off. Perhaps the Magical Government people had kept hold of him? Or perhaps Felix had escaped? Maybe they hurt him? There didn’t seem to be much love lost between them.

In the ensuing void I made the mistake of lulling into my old ways — checking my iPhone. After what Benjamin told me last night I now felt compelled to look. Of course, this was a mistake. On Instagram, Ginny had posted a photo just yesterday… of her smiling next to a big muscled man. I must have stared at it for ten minutes. Strange feelings curdling in my stomach; anger, jealousy, despair, hopelessness, grief.

But my day was about to get a whole lot worse… in a matter of minutes.

Knock, knock. Went the door, rather urgently.

This shook me from my depressing stare. Getting up to answer I saw the outline of two people through the frosted glass. Salesmen, or religious preachers, was my guess for they looked well dressed.

“William Norton?” said a butch woman.

“Yeaahhh.” I nodded.

She and her colleague held up police identity cards. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

“We’d like you to come to the station with us,” she said.

I did as was asked, no daring escapes on the cards this time. The silent officer next to the butch one was clutching a taser. No thanks.

They drove to Paddington Green Police Station in an unmarked car and met the same Sergeant at the desk as last time, with big black bags under his eyes, who went through the procedural rigmarole.

“Ahhh Mr Norton,” said a brash northern voice that I knew belonged to Bob. He and Karen came around the corner to greet me, thanking Butch and Silent, the two officers, for bringing me in.

Karen gave me a cold smile. “We have your client in the other room, or should I say accomplice?”

“Because you’re not a lawyer at all are you?” said Bob.

“No, I’m not.” I admitted, I thought that was obvious.

Following them down to one of the questioning rooms, I saw signs upon some doors that read:

TERRORISM QUESTIONING SUITE.

And MAXIMUM SECURITY HOLDING CELL.

Inside the questioning room, Karen and Bob looked extremely pleased with themselves like a married couple that had just won the bingo.

“We have evidence,” said Bob, “that can place you both at 12 Fieldway Crescent, Islington, at the same time as the murder of Kriston Christopoulos.”

I took a deep breath. I decided in that moment that honesty was the best policy, which is wrong it turns out, but my brain was so fried, I couldn’t think of a good enough lie. For all intents and purposes I looked banged to rights.

“What evidence?” I said in a quivering voice that gave me away.

Karen folded her hands. “The taxi driver that dropped you off outside that house, the neighbour that saw you both enter the house, the little old lady that watched you both run through her garden. Would you like me to continue?”

“No that’s fine,” I said in a small voice, to which Karen asked of me to tell them why I was at Kriston’s house. “He rang Felix on the Saturday morning and arranged to meet in Trafalgar. Kriston offered a large sum of money to Felix to find… an item he had lost. Felix spent the afternoon… looking for where it might be, located it and we took a taxi to Kriston’s house—”

“Which was after evading police capture,” Bob added.

I cleared my throat. “Yep after that. We got to his house, went inside and he was lying dead on the living room carpet, it was horrible. He had the hole through his chest, just like the other one in the bank vault.”

“What did you do next?” said Karen.

I took a pause too long. “We thought at the time how it could come back on us, being at two crime scenes with identical magical murders, so we searched the house for clues as to who the murderer could have been.”

“You tampered with a crime scene?” said Bob shaking his head and making a note. “Take anything?”

I was a rubbish liar, I knew that, but this one had to be good. “No.” Terrible. “Okay fine, yes I did. But I think I worked out who the real murderer is…”

They urged me on.

“I found a poker chip for Vitalies Casino for a large amount of money. Someone I know said that this Creep—”

“Creep?”

“It’s what Felix calls someone who isn’t born into magic, but can do it,” I said quickly. “Anyway, this Creep was spotted in Vitalies Casino having a fight with security and he, single handedly won. Of course he did, because he is a wizard. I saw it with my own eyes, he and Felix fighting using magic…”

“Are you not sure you just had a bump to the head, or smoked one too many funny spliffs?”

“Do I look like the sort of person who smokes funny spliffs?”

Karen hurried me on. “Well, my friend said he recognised this Creep as an ex-public figure, I did too when his hat slipped, but I couldn’t think who… until my friend said: it was Edward Rappaport.”

There was a short spell of silence, before Bob fell into hysterics, Karen too tittering lightly.

“Who came up with this story? You or the nut-job?” said Bob crassly. Karen and Bob looked at one another, clearly not believing a word of it. “The charges you could be facing include,” said Bob started to count on his fingers, “false impersonation of an official, evading police capture, accessory to the crime, accessory to double murder… would you like me go on?”

“But I am telling you the truth.” I said pleadingly.

This carried on for hours, getting steadily more serious as the evidence against us stacked up. On the face it, it was an open and shut case. Karen had shown me a picture, which would really piss the wizard off when he saw it, of an envelope containing £2000 in cash—with Felix’s name on it.

When they asked me to explain that, I told them that was the reward money for finding the man’s item.

“Do you know why we need to catch your friend so badly?” said Bob. “Because Kriston was an undercover police officer.”

That hit me like a bombshell, but made little sense, until he expanded.

“Kriston had infiltrated Johnnie Reed’s crime gang. The main hub of which is run from Vitalies Casino. He was this close to giving us all the evidence necessary to nail them for the Covent Garden Bank job. Then the same day he meets Felix, he winds up dead.”

My brain hurt. I could see the puzzle pieces, but had not slotted them into place yet.

“And all his files were missing, which leads to the very startling conclusion that your best buddy Felix, was involved with the bank robbery with the Jonnie Reed gang. He was down there in that vault with them, he killed that security guard, then magically rubbed away the evidence when he was allowed back to it,” Bob gave Karen a sharp glance. “And then, he found out that Kriston was undercover police, so he went round, killed him and destroyed the files.”

“And he took you in,” said Karen. “Like I told you he would, like he does to all of us. Using his magic, he made it look like he was with you while he killed Kriston, so he would have a witness.”

“No, he wouldn’t do that.”

“Ask yourself,” she said leaning forwards. “Has he ever made something happen that looks real?”

Nelson’s Column falling down did flash through my mind. Christ.

“You could help us, he trusts you.”

Just at that moment, in walked, without a knock, an extremely pretty woman.

“Stop whatever your doing,” she said marching over to the tape recorder and pressing the stop button. “Karen, Bob, out you go, you know the rules…”

She oozed authority for someone about my age, causing Karen and Bob to timidly leave the room. Turning to face me, she smiled and held out a hand. “I am Zoey Dylan, your lawyer.”

“Lawyer? I don’t ha—”

“Felix asked me,” she said anticipating my question, before sitting down opposite me and fishing through her bag. She was stunningly beautiful, I mean she really, really was. If I had to describe my type, she would be it. Not the typical good-looking girl either, the porn-star look was not my cup of tea, she looked, I suppose if you want me to pin it down a bit more for you, like the Hollywood actress Jennifer Lawrence. When her blue eyes fell on me, I felt the weight of her intelligence. Those eyes oddly reminded me of something else, which I couldn’t quite pin down.

“Have you finished ogling me?” she said strictly.

Crap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry. This has just been a strange day.”

She chuckled. “I was joking. Felix told me you had no sense of humour.”

“What? Yes I do!”

“Well, your humour aside Will, I need to tell you that he’s having one of his downers,” she said.

“Downers?”

“He’s upset about what the Magic Council said to him.”

He was way more sensitive than I thought. Mind you, if someone accused me of killing my mother, I think I’d be upset too.

“Problem is, he will insist on not taking his medication.”

Before I could what for, she had flipped her notebook open and began scribbling alongside her existing notes. “I will have you out of here by tonight, as long as you do what I say, the evidence they have on you is circumstantial and won’t hold up in a court of law, no matter what they’ve already told you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I liked people like Zoey, they sorted things out, got things done.

“Felix is a bit trickier,” she said. “As per usual. They are holding him on terrorism charges.” She brushed her long hair blonde hair back. A shiver of appreciation shot through me. For once, I wished beyond anything else that I was a tall, dark, handsome man, or impressive in some way. “They are holding him on terrorism charges, it’s the closest thing they’ve got to be able to deal with him, you know, being a wizard.”

“How long will be here?”

She shrugged. “Could be weeks…”

“WEEKS!?” I said, I think I scared her a little. “He can’t stay in here for weeks.”

“I know,” she said. “He’s a sitting duck, I don’t know if you know this, but he has a lot of enemies.”

I could name a few, and I had only known him a week.

“So what do we do?”

She smiled in a machiavellian way “He’s given me instructions for you to… help upon your release.”

She opened her bag and passed me an envelope, inside was two bits of parchment. The first was a scrawling note, he had the handwriting of a toddler. The second was some kind of written instruction manual that he had sketched out. The title read: RAISING A DEMON.

Christ almighty. What was he to have me do?

I scanned the enclosed letter:

Dear my friend,

I am in deep bother. All my magic is at home. Need you to break me out of here. Instructions attached. I trust you.

FF.

“He WANTS ME TO BREAK HIM OU—”

Zoey put a hand firmly over my mouth. “Quiet dip-shit! The walls have ears.”

“But, but…”

She tutted. “He told me you’d be like this,” she shook her head disappointedly. “You’ll be saving me time.” Now she was using her looks, pouting her lips and tilting her head forwards.

It shouldn’t have worked but it really did. I gave a curt nod, putting the letters beneath my jacket.

Zoey stood. “He doesn’t have a lot of time Will, if you want to see him alive again, I suggest you do as he says.”

I sighed, I suppose it was all I could do for him getting me out of here. But it was still a big ask.

She grinned. “It’s only a little bit of magic.”

“Are you like… a wizarding lawyer?”

Zoey laughed maniacally. “No god forbid… I’m his sister.”

WHAT.

18

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