Ghost of a Chance

“Make sure that chalk outline is completely gone, Gary,” Barton said, handing the cloth to Bickman. “I don’t think Mr. Lockerby could use it to gain entry to my office, but there’s no sense taking chances.”

Despite the explanation, Alex knew full well that Barton had done it to emphasize the difference between their relative abilities. Still, Alex took some pleasure in the fact that Barton needed him and his finding rune to get his motor back.

Iggy’s finding rune, he reminded himself.

* * *

Back in Andrew Barton’s cavernous office, Alex cleared off a large space on the desk. A lot depended on this finding rune, so he took his time setting up. He took the green powder and the beeswax candles from his kit, pouring out a thin line of the powder in a hexagonal shape. He added a candle to each joint of the hexagon, then put a ceramic tile with another rune carved in it in the exact center.

Pricking his finger, Alex added a drop of his own blood to the rune on the tile and he felt it activate.

“What’s all that?” Barton asked.

“Stabilizing rune,” Alex explained. “It helps the finding rune get a clear connection.”

That done, Alex carefully laid out the map of New York City on top of the stabilizing rune, then put his battered compass in the center.

“Is this model accurate?” he asked, picking up the little traction motor.

“Exactly accurate,” Barton said.

Alex took out one of Iggy’s finding runes from his jacket pocket and folded it up, then laid it on the compass with the model of the motor on top of it. He took a breath to focus his mind and then ran through everything Barton had explained about his plans and how they all rested on the missing traction motor. Flicking the ashes of his cigarette into an ashtray on the desk, Alex lit the flash paper.

The rune exploded to life, flipping the little model off the compass. The orange rune hung in the air, spinning like Alex expected. Gradually it slowed, and the compass needle began turning, catching up to the rune and matching it. Alex waited, but the rune didn’t fade, it just hung there in the air with the compass needle spinning lazily in parity with it. There wasn’t a spinning ring orbiting the map this time, but that was the only difference.

“What’s wrong?” Barton wondered, reading the look on Alex’s face.

“It isn’t making a connection with the motor,” he said.

“So it didn’t work?” Barton said, annoyance creeping into his voice.

Alex shook his head.

“No, it worked,” he said. “But something is preventing the rune from linking the compass to the motor.”

“Preventing?” Barton said. “You mean like a shielding spell?”

Alex wasn’t sure how that would work. Masking runes, like the kind Iggy had put on the brownstone, would have caused the finding rune to fail outright. They completely blocked any attempt to magically find something inside their filed of influence.

“I don’t think so,” Alex said. “It might be inside a lead-lined room or underground; that would block the signal. How big is the actual motor?”

“About three feet long and two and a half feet around,” Barton said. “And it weighs around six hundred pounds.”

“So, whoever took it won’t have an easy time moving it,” Alex said. “I’m afraid they may have damaged it. Maybe broken it in pieces or taken it apart. That would explain the rune.”

He indicated the spinning compass.

Barton swore and slammed his fist down on the desk, sending sparks out from his hand.

“See Gary,” Barton said, turning back to the window. “He’ll pay you for the rune.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Barton, that’s not it,” Alex said. “Detectives have been finding stuff for a long time and most of them don’t have finding runes to help out.”

Barton turned back to Alex with a twinkle in his eye.

“So, you think you can find my motor the old-fashioned way, do you?”

Alex nodded.

“You bet,” he said.

“Why should I throw good money after bad, Lockerby?” he said. “If you’re right, my motor’s probably in pieces by now anyway. I’m going to have to make a new one and can only hope it gets done before the contest, so why should I pay you to find a lost cause?”

“Because,” Alex said with a knowing smile. “If whoever stole your motor took it apart, they did that to keep you out of the contest. If I find the guys who stole it, and they give up the name of their employer…”

Alex let the sentence fade away, giving Barton an expectant look.

“If you can prove that one of the other contestants tampered with my motor to keep me out of the contest,” Barton said, picking up Alex’s train of thought, “then they’ll have to let me compete, even if it takes another week to put a new motor together.”

“And whoever is behind this will be out for sure,” Alex pointed out.

Barton was grinning now, a wide, predatory grin that made the tips of his handlebar mustache point upward. In that position, Alex realized that they formed little lightning bolts.