A Calculated Magic lm-2 Read online

  Jack shuddered, imagining the raven’s beak puncturing his eardrum. “Maybe another time,” he declared. “For now, speak aloud. Cassandra also needs to hear what you two learned. I assume you found out something interesting, thus the dramatic entrance.”

  “You bet,” said Hugo. “We located the Old Man of the Mountain right away. It wasn’t difficult. Mongo suggested we search for the most lavish place in the complex. Needless to say, that’s where Hasan makes his headquarters, it’s on the roof of the main resort. Top of the mountain, so to speak. You’ll never guess who we found the Old Geezer arguing with?”

  “You’re right,” said Jack impatiently, “I’ll never guess. So tell me.”

  “The Ancient One,” said Mongo. “The demigod we thought was behind this entire mess.”

  “Thought?” asked Jack. “You mean it’s not?”

  “Well, it was,” said Mongo. “But it’s not anymore. Hasan has taken control of things.”

  The bird paused and looked at Jack’s ear again. Jack shook his head. “Maybe,” said Mongo, “we should start from the beginning.”

  “Good idea,” said Jack.

  Thirty minutes later, the two blackbirds finished relating the entire conversation that had taken place in the Old Man’s throne room. The ravens proved to be excellent reporters, describing each participant in detail and repeating their conversations verbatim. By the time they finished, Jack had a thorough understanding of what was happening. He didn’t like it one bit.

  “You didn’t happen to learn who this Karsnov character is?” he asked. “Or what they meant when they spoke of his plague virus?”

  “Actually,” said Mongo, “I spent a few minutes afterward chatting with some of the birds perched outside the hotel. You’d be surprised how much information you can learn from the locals.”

  “Yeah,” said Hugo, “and I flew over to the nearest library and reviewed the New York Times for information on Karsnov. Wish they made microfiche readers for birds. It strained my eyes reading the film without magnification.”

  Jack blinked at this latest revelations of the two blackbirds’ miraculous powers. His mother had been right. The ravens were incredible. But at the moment he was more interested in the results of their inquiries than how they were conducted.

  “Well?” he asked impatiently. “Well?”

  “The Times identified Karsnov as one of Russia’s leading experts on chemical warfare,” said Hugo. “Evidently, he got into big trouble a few months ago when the government learned he conducted unauthorized biological warfare experiments on Russian citizens. It involved an airborne strain of anthrax plague that killed several hundred innocent people. According to the newspaper, Karsnov vanished without a trace one step ahead of the KGB.”

  “Only to turn up here shortly afterward,” said Mongo. “Safe and snug with his new patron, the Old Man of the Mountain. And it sounds like the Russian is up to his old tricks. The birds outside tell me that there have been a dozen mysterious deaths in Las Vegas the past few weeks. All of them have been reported as resulting from pneumonia. Which is the way anthrax plague is usually misdiagnosed.”

  “An anthrax plague?” said Jack. “That’s insane.”

  “Depends on your point of view,” said Cassandra. “Loki deals in arms. What better weapon to offer your clients man a deadly plague virus that can’t be identified or stopped? It’s the ultimate killing device. You can wipe out the entire population, leaving their buildings, possessions, and raw materials untouched. Remember all that talk of the neutron bomb years ago. This plague satisfies all the necessary requirements and it’s much more subtle. You can wage war without the enemy knowing a battle is taking place.”

  Jack shivered. Cassandra painted a convincing if terrifying scenario. “What about this Brotherhood of Holy Destruction?”

  “Fanatic Muslim fundamentalists intent on destroying the United States,” replied the Amazon. “I’ve heard of them. They believe that the end justifies any means. They’ve vowed revenge against the United States for the actions taken against Libya and Iraq. Can you think of a more diabolical plan than to poison the water supply of Las Vegas with a slow-acting version of this plague virus? Tourists from throughout the country come to the city for short visits. Within weeks, the entire country would be swept up in an outbreak of the disease. Millions would die before an antidote could be found.”

  “Dare I inquire what the Ancient One wants with this formula for disaster?” whispered Jack.

  “Oh, we know the answer to that riddle,” said Hugo. “As soon as we entered the throne room, Mongo and I recognized your mysterious demigod. He rose to power during the same period when Odin first emerged as a Teutonic forest deity. Mongo and me, we never forget a face. Especially a mug as ugly as the Crouching One’s.”

  “That was the nickname his worshipers in Babylon gave him,” said Mongo. “He was the most feared god in prehistory. Most humans called him Lord of the Lions, because his head resembled that of a giant cat. But his proper name was Nergal. He was the Ruler of the Underworld, god of death and destruction, pestilence and… plague.”

  16

  Jack digested this latest revelation in silence. Battling a nameless demigod from prehistory was difficult enough. Learning that the entity was the Babylonian god of death didn’t make life any better. Jack knew next to nothing about Nergal, other than the fact that the god had been so feared that its name had been appropriated by early Christians and given to one of Satan’s lieutenants in the New Testament. Briefly, he wondered if perhaps a confusion in names had served as the entity’s passport into the material world. It hardly mattered. Nergal was back, and Jack had to deal with him.

  “It’s seven o’clock,” he declared. “Later than that for us, considering the time change. Let’s head over to the restaurant and eat dinner. I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” said Hugo. “Flying that fast takes a lot out of you. I can eat a horse.”

  “Ditto,” said Mongo. “Though I doubt if they include horse meat on the menu. Damn.”

  “We’ll try the buffet,” decided Jack. “You two make yourself transparent and stay unseen and unheard. Cassandra and I will take extra food and you can eat off our trays,” His voice grew stern. “Try practicing a little restraint. We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.”

  “No problem,” said Hugo. “Nobody will notice anything unusual. Cross my feathers and hope to die. Not that it matters. Everybody’s gonna be staring at Cassandra.”

  The Amazon glowered at the raven. She had changed garments, but as expected, the new outfit suited her temperament no better than the previous one. She wore a hand-beaded silk evening dress, cut low across her breasts and with a keyhole back that descended down to her waist. The top half of the dress was defined by a pattern of white beading, while the skirt portion consisted of an overlapping sequence of black iridescent sequins. Black stockings with a snake design around each ankle and five-inch heels completed the ensemble.

  “One lewd remark, bird,” Cassandra said, her voice deathly calm, “and we will learn if you can speak without a beak.”

  “Stay cool,” said Jack. “If we start arguing among ourselves, we’ll never free Megan. And save civilization.”

  “I’m not sure a culture that extols women who dress in such a manner deserves saving,” Cassandra declared through clenched teeth, as they made their way to the elevators.

  The buffet, when they finally arrived there fifteen minutes later, was awe-inspiring. A standard feature at Las Vegas hotels, the one at the Seven Wonders had to be the most elaborate offering of food Jack had ever seen. Almost a hundred feet long, it offered nearly every type and style of food imaginable. Hugo, an invisible presence perched on Jack’s shoulder, murmured, “I wonder if they stock boar’s flesh? Sure looks possible.”

  Boar’s flesh was not available, but there were more than enough choices for the raven. Jack found his plate soon filled to the brim, between his and the bird’s selections. Cassandr
a, directly in front of him on line, suffered the same fate. Finally, sounding slightly exasperated, the Amazon whispered to her unseen companion, “One more item and the plate will crack from the weight. Enough. We can return for seconds.”

  “Same applies to you,” said Jack.

  “Okay,” replied Hugo, its beak resting on Jack’s ear so only he could hear its words. Jack marveled that Odin had remained sane for centuries enduring such conversations. “Hey, there’s a chef slicing roast beef at the end of the line. I love roast beef. Please, just a piece or two.”

  “Last item,” Jack said, and stepped up to the carving table.

  “What would you like, sir?” asked the chef, a portly middle-aged man, his face wreathed in a perpetual smile.

  “Three slices, very rare,” declared Hugo loudly, before Jack could open his mouth. “As bloody as possible.”

  The chef’s eyes bulged in amazement. Shaking his head, he bent to carve the meat.

  “I’m a professional ventriloquist,” Jack declared quickly. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. I often forget myself and speak with my mouth closed.”

  “Oh, sure,” said the chef, laying the red beef on top of Jack’s plate. “No problem,” The man’s smile returned. “You’re good. Really good. Never saw your lips twitch.”

  “Practice,” said Jack modestly. “Years of practice.”

  Sighing with relief, he left the chef and hurried over to the booth where Cassandra waited. “Do that one more time,” he muttered to the raven, “and I’ll let Cassandra skin you alive. In fact, I’ll hold you down while she does it.”

  “Sorry, boss,” said Hugo. “The sight of that bloodred meat drove me crazy. It won’t happen again.”

  A plump middle-aged blonde waitress took their drink orders. Jack, who normally avoided alcoholic drinks, was sorely tempted to drown his troubles in bourbon, but settled for his usual Coke. Coping with his allies as much as his enemies required a clear head.

  “Something more exotic for the lady?” suggested their server, eyeing Cassandra’s outfit with a critical eye. “Perhaps a screwdriver? Or a Bloody Mary?”

  “A Bloody Mary?” whispered Hugo. “That sounds intriguing.”

  “No, thank you,” said me Amazon, calmly. Jack silently thanked the heavens above for Cassandra’s restraint. It wasn’t till later that he noticed her fork bent into a horseshoe. “I prefer fruit juice.”

  “I’ll return in a minute with your drinks,” said the waitress. She stared with wide eyes at the huge mounds of food on their plates. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  As soon as the woman left them alone, they set to eating with all the gusto of travelers who had only dined on airline food that day. By the time the waitress returned, their plates were wiped clean.

  “My,” she remarked, “you were hungry. Feel free to take seconds. And leave some room for the dessert bar in the corner.”

  Placing a glass of fruit juice in front of Cassandra, the woman shook her head in amazement. “Incredible that you can maintain such a stunning figure with so healthy an appetite. I merely look at rich food and gain weight.”

  “Exercise,” declared the Amazon. “Frequent workouts help keep me in shape.”

  “I’ll bet,” said the waitress, her expression making it quite clear what sort of workout she thought Cassandra meant. “Don’t forget the big magic show at nine tonight, folks. It takes place in front of the atrium Lighthouse, You don’t want to miss it. The tricks they perform using laser technology and holograms are incredible. The red genie, in particular, is a real crowd pleaser. You’d swear he’s alive and not just a special-effects creation.”

  “A red genie,” said Jack. “Sounds fascinating,” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet. Establishing a reputation as a big tipper wasn’t difficult in Las Vegas. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said the waitress. “Enjoy the show.”

  “A red genie,” said Cassandra, once they were alone. “That can only be the Afreet.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Jack. “Though why the Old Man of the Mountain would use him in a magic show to entertain hotel guests is beyond me.”

  “People come to Las Vegas for the glitz and glamour,” said Cassandra, “According to the birds, the Old Man of the Mountain owes a fortune on this palace. He needs to attract big crowds. A spectacular show is one method of doing that.”

  “We have twenty minutes till show time,” said Jack. “We can walk to the Lighthouse in five. Anyone care for a quick dessert?”

  “Sugar?” inquired Mongo. “Do you think they’ll have lots of things with sugar?”

  Jack nodded. “I’m sure they will.”

  Smiling, he wondered how his mother would cope with two chocoholic ravens. It was not a subject dealt with in great detail in the Elder Edda.

  17

  They arrived at the Lighthouse five minutes before showtime. A crowd of several hundred people filled the open space before a raised stage. Cassandra, smarting from the knowing smirks she had encountered all evening, forced her way to the front, dragging Jack after her. He knew better than to try arguing with the Amazon. Besides, he wanted to be in a position to watch the Afreet’s performance closely.

  Though Jack’s knowledge of physics left much to be desired, he had survived four semesters of the subject as an undergraduate science major. He retained a reasonably strong sense of the laws that governed the physical universe. While not a big fan of hard science fiction, he had read most of Asimov, Niven, and Clarke. Combining his knowledge of science fact and science fiction, he hoped to discover a new method of trapping a genie. It was that or find King Solomon’s ring. And Jack doubted he could find the relic by tomorrow evening.

  The show started promptly on the hour. A flash of lights, a blaze of laser lights, and a stage magician dressed in a turban and bright purple burnoose appeared seemingly from nowhere. Working with several extremely scantily clad assistants, the man worked through a dozen standard illusions. He was an adept performer, but he was only the warm-up act for the real star of the show, and both he and the audience knew it. The applause he received was polite but reserved. The crowd impatiently waited for the genie to make its appearance.

  Drums rolled, the footlights dimmed, and the magician’s bountifully endowed helpers disappeared into the wings. The wizard stood alone at center stage, his face bowed, his hands hidden in the folds of his voluminous robe.

  “Years ago,” the magician intoned in a deep voice that rolled out across the audience, “an old antique dealer sold me this lamp for only a few dollars.”

  A narrow spotlight focused on the bronze oil lamp, perhaps a foot long, that the speaker had pulled out from his burnoose. Carefully, the magician placed the prop on the floor in front of him.

  “Never did I guess,” he declared, “that this was the very lamp that once belonged to Aladdin. Not until that fateful day”—and the man reached out and brushed his fingers against the bronze— “that I first rubbed my prize.”

  The crowd, including Jack and Cassandra, gasped in astonishment. A thick red mist emerged from the lamp’s mouth. It curled like smoke twenty feet over the magician’s head. Slowly, as the background music swelled, it solidified into an imposing figure of a man floating on air.

  “Behold,” said the magician, his voice ringing with emotion. “Behold the genie of the lamp!”

  With a whoosh, the bright red figure zoomed over the audience, zigzagged across the entire length of the atrium, touched first the head of Jupiter, then the torch of the Colossus, and finished its trip by circling the Lighthouse three times before coming to a landing right next to the waiting magician.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the wizard proclaimed, “brought to you by the magic of The Seven Wonders of the World Resort, LOA Laser Technology, and OMM Computers, I am pleased to present to you, George the Genie.”

  The Afreet, dressed in loose-fitting trousers, an open vest, and a fez, otherwise appeared exactly the same as the figure Jack had s
een the previous night. Grinning, he waved to the crowd, then bowed. The audience broke out in thunderous applause.

  “Notice how he exaggerates his motions slightly,” Cassandra whispered to Jack. “It helps maintain the illusion he’s only a creation of electronic gimmickry.”

  The magician clapped his hands three times. Two huge men, dressed in loincloths, emerged from backstage carrying a massive cinder block between them. Setting it down on the stage, they hastily stepped to the side.

  With a laugh, the genie floated over to the concrete slab. Laser lights flashed red and green as the Afreet hoisted the block into the air and effortlessly crushed it into powder. A gust of wind, provided by an offstage fan, sent a mist of powder drifting over the crowd. The applause was even louder than before.

  Next, the genie bent an iron bar in half. Then it allowed itself to be pierced by a spear, a sword, and finally, a chainsaw. It was all very flashy and, to Jack, quite frightening. Hugo was right. The Afreet was incredibly powerful and without any visible signs of weakness.

  “LOA—League of Assassins,” Jack whispered. Onstage, the genie, on orders from the magician, underwent a series of incredible transformations. It changed in rapid succession into a lion, an elephant, a bee, and then finally, into a duplicate of the magician himself. “OMM—Old Man of the Mountain. Not very subtle, are they?”

  “Do they need to be?” asked Cassandra. “Ordinary mortals are willing to believe anything involving modern technology, Jack. But try to convince them that magic exists, and they’ll laugh in your face.”

  “The world’s a cynical place,” Jack said, then froze. Every muscle in his body tightened into knots. It was as if he had been suddenly struck by lightning. Or by the answer to a question that defied normal reasoning.

  “Jack, are you okay?” asked Cassandra, shaking him gently by the shoulder. Onstage, the genie had vanished back into the lamp and the show was coming to a close. Already the crowd was dispersing. Unable to speak, he nodded slowly as the brief moment of epiphany faded away.