00 Mayan Thief (The FBI Paranormal Casefiles) Read online

  “No.”

  “Neither do I,” he barked. “So let’s just assume you trust my translation so we can move on.”

  Bryan snickered. I wanted to punch him. “Sure, professor. What’s the year?”

  He frowned. “When you get me a picture that has that year, I will give it to you.”

  “But these contain all the pictures of all the thefts,” I protested.

  Bryan leaned forward. “Actually, not. They don’t. Don’t you remember what the boss said; not all pieces would have been reported.”

  This made the task more complicated. If we didn’t have those pictures, we would remain in the dark. “But how would we get them?”

  “Now, young lady, I’ve given you enough time,” said Professor. “I’ve to polish the draft of my speech for the upcoming conference. If you get more pictures, please send them to my email. Don’t bother to come. I’ll send you the translation the same way.”

  “That would be great, Professor.” Since he was in a hurry, I stood. Bryan followed my lead. “Now this spell…I am thinking it seems to me that it refers to some kind of a portal.”

  “Hmm. That would be the conclusion I would draw too, but unless we have the whole spell, it would be difficult to say.”

  “Thank you, Professor. You’ve been a great help.”

  “But of course,” he said.

  We strode out. He slammed the door without saying another word. I didn’t care. He’d led us to the right path, and now it was up to us to figure out the next step forward.

  Chapter Eight

  Wasting three days in Dublin wasn’t a good idea, but I didn’t want to realize later on that we missed something important. There were a lot of balls in the air, and it was crucial to keep an eye on all of them. Jeremy was working on identifying the woman whose picture we found in James’s wallet. Mark was trying to see if he could get some pictures of artifacts that were stolen but not reported. I didn’t know how he was doing that, but his methods wouldn’t be all legal. He might be hacking into the computers of the theft victims. As far as I was concerned, the end justified the means. But I didn’t think Special Agent Bryan would agree, and that’s why it wasn’t something I chose to share with him.

  We combed the city from top to bottom, and used all the FBI and mage resources we could access, but we were unable to find a trace of the man; he was as elusive as smoke.

  Damn!

  I hated going back with empty hands but we didn’t have much option. The temporary defeat did nothing to alleviate the dark mood in which I was immersed.

  “Something is bound to turn up,” said Agent Bryan as we walked out of the terminal.

  I gnashed my teeth as we grabbed a cab. “It better,” I muttered.

  There was a gang of mages out there who were running around, attacking homes, stealing stuff, and accumulating the fragments of a spell that would lead them to open some kind of a portal. And here we were, helpless, clueless, and lost.

  I hated this feeling.

  Bryan chose to keep quiet. Good. It gave me time to stew in my own misery. After coming back to the commune, I dumped my bag in the foyer. I would take it up later, but right I needed to see Jeremy and Mark to find out if they got some answers. They were my only hope at this time; it was useless to think that the FBI would pass on some useful information.

  “Hey, hey,” said a familiar voice. Jasper strode towards us with a broom in his hand. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just dump this in here. Take it up.”

  “I’ll do it in a while,” I said.

  Colonel Sanders, it appeared, still hadn’t made an entrance. “Not in a while. Now. I clean, clean, clean, and there you guys are, making a mess and dumping things where they don’t belong.”

  It was pointless to argue with him. “Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll do it right now just to get you off my back.”

  “Mind your language, young lady. No one appreciates me in this house.” He sniffed, turned around with a sharp turn, and began to use the broom on the floor. “Work, work, work, clean, clean, clean, and all I get in thanks is attitude.”

  If I didn’t do something fast, I would regret it. Jasper had a way of holding on to a grudge and nursing it until it became an open, festering sore. Digging into my bag pack, I drew out a box of chocolates. “Oh, I got these for you. Wanted to wrap them up nice and pretty, but since you’re here, I might as well hand these over.”

  He glanced at the chocolates, and the struggle on his face was obvious enough. This was his favorite brand, and he was partial to chocolates. But he wanted to wind me up more on the sass I gave him. In the end, gluttony won the war. Snatching the box from my hand, he ripped open the plastic. “Thank you. As I said, you’re the only one who thinks about me.”

  “Enjoy, Jasper. Bryan, why don’t you wait in the library? I’ll go put this up in my room.” Now that I had a few moments to myself, I used it to take stock of the situation. There weren’t many leads, and I would have to pressurize Jeremy and Mark to dig up something fast. But what else could we do? There had to be something. No theft was perfect; thieves left behind clues. Maybe it was time to focus on the identities of the other thieves. They were clever, but we were better. Rather than try to trace their magic once more, I needed to go to another source.

  Who else could provide useful information?

  As I stomped up the stairs, my mind was full of possibilities. Nothing truly made sense. Nothing jumped out.

  Unless…

  One name popped into my head, but the idea was so dangerous, so ridiculous that I didn’t even want to think about it too much. And yet, he might be the only one who could provide some kind of information. No, the idea of going to him for help was crazy, suicidal.

  “Hey, Cleo…here, hold her for a while. Just take her to the nursery. I have got to make a quick phone call.”

  Before I knew what was going on, there was a baby in my arms, and Shelley was running down the stairs. “What? Hey…wait…I…” Looking down at the child who was cradled in my arms, I felt as if someone had pushed me in the middle of a war zone. I wanted to bolt, but there was nowhere to go, and there was no one around so I couldn’t dump it on someone else. The child was still in the commune. So busy I had been with the investigation that I’d literally blanked out on the infant’s unceremonious arrival in our house.

  What was it still doing here?

  As if answering my unspoken question, the baby scrunched up its nose, its body tensed, and I actually felt the vibrations in my hand that cradled its bottom. The stench of poo permeated the air. “Shit,” I said.

  I mean, literally, the child just shat in my hands.

  Of course, it was wearing a diaper. While I just wanted to dump the baby anywhere, I couldn’t really do it. Augusta would kill me, if not Shelley. “Alright. What do I do?” Shelley’s words shone in my mind. “Nursery. Oh…now where is that?”

  They must have converted one room into a nursery, but which one? Taking a guess, I strode towards the left corridor. There were empty rooms in the farmhouse. Sometimes people dropped by for extended visits, and sometimes if an investigation lasted long enough, FBI agents stayed with us. My first guess was wrong, but I found the nursery in my second try. Shelley and Augusta, it appeared, were a little bit too motivated. An old table was converted into a changing table, one wall was painted a bright, sunny yellow, and there was even a cot.

  Rather than put the child in the cot, I put it on the changing table. Was I supposed to do something about the mess in the diaper? Surely not. I would rather face a horde of flesh-eating zombies, but then…if I didn’t at least make an effort, I would have to listen to Shelley’s lecture. There was stuff on the changing table; wipes, creams, and fresh diapers. The child let out a wail.

  “Alright, alright, I am doing it.” With hands that trembled (and yes, I was more ashamed that I could ever admit), I opened the buttons on the white romper. After taking a deep breath, I opened the diaper. “Oh shit, oh shit.” Quickly
, I wiped. No one had ever taught me this, but I did the best I could. The mystery was solved now. It was a girl.

  Did she have a name?

  What was she still doing here?

  If anyone had told me an hour ago that I would be changing a child’s dirty diaper, I would have called them insane.

  Insane.

  Really! And here I was done with the deed.

  After putting on some cream on the baby’s bottom, I quickly put on a new diaper before she could do something naughty on my hands. “There, we are good to go.” I closed the buttons and glanced down at the baby. Her hands were now stuffed in her mouth. With a fresh wipe, I cleaned my hands. “Let me tell you; that was the scariest thing I ever did. Sure, it was. You’ve no idea.” For a moment, I just peered at her. Her gaze was direct, bold. It seemed as if she could see something deep inside me. I shook my head. She was just a baby. “You’re a cute thing. Yes, you are. Yes, you are.” With my fingers, I tickled her feet. The sudden bust of laughter surprised me. I smiled. “Oh, you’re sweet. Now why would anyone leave you here?”

  “Still haven’t found out whom she belongs to?”

  I glanced up at Bryan. There was something in his eyes, something soft. It was almost as if he saw me in a different manner. Quickly, I picked up the child and put her in the cot. “No idea. I had forgotten about her. Guess Augusta must not have found out who left her.” For a moment, I stared at the child. She was like me; she didn’t have a family. And yet, she had us and I had all these people. Shelley walked in the room. “There you are.” I turned. “I changed the diaper. She seems hungry.”

  Surprised, she stared at me. “You changed the diaper?”

  “What’s her name?” asked Bryan as if he wanted to save us both the embarrassment of more questions and subsequent answers.

  “We haven’t named her as yet. Augusta filed a report with child services. We’ve checked all the local hospitals. There is no report of any baby that is unaccounted for,” said Shelley.

  Walking over, she checked the baby. I could see the wheels turn in her brain as she fought the desire to open the child’s romper and investigate if I’d done a good job while changing diaper.

  I wouldn’t have been insulted had she done so.

  Well, maybe a little bit.

  Actually, I would have preferred if she took a look. What if I did it wrong?

  Hell.

  How could I have botched that up?

  And why the hell was I worrying about it either way.

  Shelley glanced back at me. “She doesn’t belong to anyone.”

  That was strange. Who were the parents? Where was the child’s mother? Why would anyone dump her here? The mystery thickened. If I didn’t have so much on my mind, I would have helped them out, but I certainly didn’t have the time.

  “Why don’t you hand her over to the child services?” asked Bryan.

  “She is a mage. She belongs here,” said Shelley. “We can’t just parcel her off. Augusta and I have offered to foster her until they find the parents.”

  With one final glance at the baby, I walked out.

  This wasn’t my problem. Shelley and Augusta had this matter under control. After dumping my bag in my room, I strode downstairs. Bryan was now sitting in the lobby. Jasper was cleaning, and Augusta was drumming her fingers on the reception counter as she glared at Jasper.

  Walking over, I leaned on the counter. “Still no change?”

  “Not a bit. Don’t know when Colonel Sanders is going to put in an appearance. I really need to know where he put that property file.”

  “Did you search his room?”

  “His and Jasper’s,” she admitted. “Had to send him to the barn to do that in peace. Nothing. I’ve checked the library, the study, all the cabinets in this place, and even the school house.”

  “Do you think Colonel Sanders threw it in the garbage?”

  She gasped. “Don’t talk nonsense. He wouldn’t do it. Colonel Sanders is a responsible man.”

  We were so used to the multiple personalities that occupied one body that it didn’t bother us to view them as different people. Colonel Sanders was responsible, disciplined, brusque, and diligent. Jasper was prone to fits of misery, tears, feeling of inadequacy, and an obsessive need to clean. Jasper could also throw hissy fits, but right now he was busy chatting with Bryan.

  “So you’ve been here all your life?” asked Bryan.

  “Since I was eighteen,” he replied as he idyllically swiped the broom on the floor. “Of course, I travel from time to time to other places. Went to Grand Canyon a year ago.”

  “You have ever been to Europe?”

  “I don’t travel out of the country. New things. New food. No need to experience all that.”

  “What do you do in your leisure time?”

  I snorted. It was easy enough to see that Bryan was trying to figure out how Jasper dealt with the lapses of times he experienced when he turned into Colonel Sanders. “Hey, Special Agent Bryan, don’t we have work to do?”

  He stood. “Yes, of course. Ah. Nice to see you again, Jasper.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “You want me to look for the file?” I asked Augusta.

  Augusta picked up the phone. “No, don’t worry about it. You concentrate on your work. I’ll manage this. There are only so many places he could have put it in.”

  “See you, Augusta.”

  When I walked into the library behind Bryan, Jeremy and Mark were in a deep discussion. “What’s going on, guys? Give me some good news.”

  “No news on James as yet, Cleo. He must have gone underground.”

  “I should’ve been more alert,” I lamented.

  The men didn’t comment on my tactics. Instead, Jeremy sat. “We might have found someone who can lead you to him.”

  “Who?”

  “The woman’s picture you sent. We found her. Her name is Bella Singer. She is a writer of books of spells. And she is local. Lives right here. A couple of hours away.”

  “A writer?” I said.

  “She masquerades as a fortune teller, but I believe she has access to some kind of devise that can give her glimpses of the future. Her reputation is formidable. There are many clients who swear that she is the best psychic or fortune teller.”

  Mages didn’t sell their spells to humans. As it was, humans couldn’t use them, and there was always a possibility that someone with latent abilities might try to use a spell and get hurt. Each spell required the user to draw from his or her own energy as well as that of the universe. It was a complicated process, and it couldn’t be shared with novices. “But she is a mage?”

  “She is definitely a mage. I am assuming that the book of spells is a hoax, just something she did to make fools of those humans who wish to believe that they can practice magic.”

  “But don’t you guys have books of spells?” asked Bryan.

  “We do, actually, but they are not sold to humans,” I said. “If any mage is caught selling real spells to humans, he or she could face a hell lot of trouble. We’ve a committee that takes care of such matters, and they are very, very strict.” I sniffed. Sitting down on the seat, I switched on the laptop. “So if she is selling it to people who don’t have magic, then it has to be a fake book of spells. But that’s not important. She is somehow connected to James, and maybe she knows where he is.”

  “So we should go and look for her?”

  “We will do that.” I pulled up her Facebook profile. As Jeremy had said, she appeared to have a huge number of fans. Her wall was full of praises and accolades. True enough that she must have access to something that gave her access to events of the future. A mage couldn’t use magic to peer into the future; they needed some kind of an ancient and powerful artifact.

  What did she have?

  And did that have any connection with the crimes?

  I stared at her picture. The baby blue eyes were sharp but innocent. The smile appeared genuine. She looked like an ordinary per
son, but of course, she was a mage, and one who had used her talent to make a ton of money. “We’ll visit her. But don’t take an appointment. It will have to be a surprise.”

  “I can go with you if you want,” said Mark.

  “It would be better if you worked on the missing artifacts, see if you can dig up their records, pictures, anything. We need to find out if there was any writing on at least some of them.”

  Jeremy tapped his fingers on the keyboard at lighting fast speed. He was a genius at this stuff, as was Mark. I was confident that they would give me something to really bite my teeth into. We were a team, and they had to do their job and I’d to do mine. “What kind of a portal do you think they would be working on? Time Travel?”

  “It’s been done before. Why would they need to find a new spell for it?”

  Bryan almost leapt off the couch on which he’d sat during our discussion. “Time travel has been done. But how? When?”

  “Relax, dude. It’s not such a big deal.” Jeremy laughed. “That’s the problem with humans. They get excited on little things. Time travel has been around for a long, long time. It just wasn’t that safe initially, but then they perfected the magic.”

  “But if you guys can do time travel, there is so much…I mean, there is so much you can do.”

  “It’s only time travel to the past that has been done. Future is too fluid. It’s not possible to go a few years ahead,” said Mark in an indifferent voice. “And what are you going to do if you go in the past?”

  “But you could alter events, change history…stop people from making mistakes.”

  “You can’t really alter history, dude. It’s been tried. The first thing that was done was to go back in time and stop Hitler from making war, but the person who has gone back can’t do shit. When you go back in time, it’s not really you who has gone back because in that time, you didn’t exist. So it’s sort of like a shadow of you, and the shadow can’t kill people. It can’t physically alter anything. It can talk to people, and you know what happens when shadows talk to people…”

  “People think it’s a ghost.”