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During the midmorning coffee break rush, I looked up from making lattes to see someone who looked vaguely familiar. I wondered if it might be someone I knew as an elf but didn’t recognize in human mode. He didn’t seem to recognize me and gave me no subtle signals that he was in on any secrets, so I figured he wasn’t one of Perdita’s or Earl’s converts. The tricky thing about recognizing people here was that not only were they likely disguised, but they were also out of context. He could be someone I saw in the halls at work every day who was a total stranger in an Upper West Side bookstore—and I’d have had the same trouble recognizing him in a real Upper West Side bookstore.
While I made his latte, I mentally ran through all the people I knew at MSI, and I still came up blank. It was an hour later as I was making a fresh pot of coffee that I blurted, “Dan!”
Florence turned to me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You just blurted what for you is a pretty harsh curse. Did you burn yourself?”
“No,” I said. Then I realized what she’d thought I said and decided to go with it to cover my mistake. “I just spilled something. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I have no delicate sensibilities to offend, since I’m not from the Victorian era. You can even say ‘damn’ on TV.”
“Maybe I should have said, ‘Egad!’” I joked. But I was pretty sure that the guy who’d bought coffee was Dan, the new security guy who’d posed as a bicycle messenger in the sting to catch the elf gang.
After the rush, I took off my apron and headed downstairs to see what assistant-manager stuff I needed to do. We had to at least pretend to keep the bookstore running so we wouldn’t look suspicious, and that was a full-time job even without worrying about planning a prison break. I couldn’t believe that not too long ago I’d been complaining about being bored in my job.
Owen and I finally got a spare moment to meet in his office. As soon as we were alone, I asked, “Do you remember Dan, the new guy in security?”
“Vaguely. He played the bicycle messenger, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. He was here for coffee today, so I guess he got caught investigating—maybe looking for us, so he might know more than we do. I hope he comes back, but I don’t know how to break the spell on him if he does. Do you know anything about him?”
“I didn’t even remember his name. Mac might know him. Our security and the enforcers work pretty closely.” He paused, frowned, then said, “And speaking of Mac, Earl just told me the elves want a meeting with him. Well, technically, they want to meet with the wizards, but he’s in charge.”
“What are you going to do?” I asked, trying to act like this was news to me.
He shrugged. “Pass on the message. Mac’s not going to like it, though. He’ll see it as a challenge to his authority, and it is—probably one he’ll lose, since wizards are vastly outnumbered here.”
Cringing, I said, “They may be even more outnumbered. Perdita has recognized people and started breaking the spell.”
He grinned. “I guess she’s our wild card.” The grin faded quickly, and he said much more soberly, “I’ll talk to Mac after work.” With a weary sigh and an attempt at a smile, he added, “At least I’m improving my chess game. James should be pleased when we get back.”
I was surprised that the look in his eyes said, “If we get back.”
Chapter Fourteen
When Owen went to talk to Mac, I came along for support. I didn’t think Owen would so much as say a snarky word in his own defense, so he needed backup. I tried to feign interest in the game they started playing before they got down to business, but my attention was more on the gray guy nearby. I couldn’t tell if he was merely standing guard at his assigned post near the park and bookstore or if he was specifically watching us. It was hard to see where his eyes focused when I had to keep my eyes from focusing on him.
“We’ve been breaking the spell on the people we know,” Owen began, “and they’re doing the same for their contacts. But it turns out that some of the leaders of the elf underground are here, and they want to meet with you to discuss strategy.”
Mac made a move on the board before saying, “What’s to discuss? I’ve got a plan.”
Wincing, Owen said, “I think they want to brief you on their plan.”
“Why should we care?” McClusky asked.
“It is their world, and I think they have the majority here, since this seems to be Sylvester’s elf Siberia,” I said.
“I have no idea what they’re planning, but we ought to stay in the loop,” Owen said.
“Won’t a meeting between heads of different factions of prisoners be noticed?” McClusky asked with a scowl.
“It depends on where we meet,” Owen said. “Most of the buildings are uninhabited. They only seem to have bothered finishing the apartments that are actually in use by either captives or guards. That leaves a lot of space that’s just for show on the outside and wide open inside. You can enter at one end of a block and make it all the way down the block in some places. That means people can come in from various doors. It should look less like a meeting then.”
Mac nodded. “Okay, then. Say, tomorrow night at eleven. Tell us where to enter and where to go.”
“You’re leaving that up to him?” McClusky protested.
