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And there was cake, just not in the way I feared. The “meeting” turned out to be a surprise Valentine’s Day party for the staff. I’d entirely forgotten about the holiday—or perhaps had deliberately tried to forget, since I wouldn’t be able to be with Owen. We’d never actually been together for Valentine’s Day, since I’d been back home last year. It had been easy to forget the holiday because the security measures meant we didn’t get the stream of florist deliveries or singing telegrams you’d see at any other company.
Roger made a brief appearance to hand each staff member a pink rose, then left the staff to celebrate. People who wanted to party weren’t nagged about needing to get back to work, but those who got some cake and headed back to their offices didn’t get a guilt trip about being antisocial. For an evil organization, they could have taught seminars in how to treat employees. I supposed it was easier to get loyalty by using honey rather than dire threats.
But I wasn’t here to have the most pleasant working experience of my professional life. I was here to bring down an ancient secret organization, even if it offered prime benefits and cake. I just wasn?
?t sure what else I could be doing right now other than passing on the names that came up in documents I was verifying.
I got my chance to learn more later that day when Roger called me to his office. I was surprised to run into Trish and Bex in the hallway, also on their way. So far, he’d kept the three of us separate when it came to work, like he was judging each of us independently rather than in direct competition. When we reached his office, he was on his feet and heading out the door. “Come on, there’s a meeting,” he said. He was missing his usual genial smile. I wouldn’t say that he looked concerned, but he did look more intent and serious than he usually did. We had to hustle to keep up with him as we moved through the building.
I’d long since given up on figuring out the building’s geography, but this trip was even more disorienting than usual. At one point, I felt like I’d gone from the top of a high rise to the bottom in a high-speed elevator, even as we just walked down a hallway. I glanced at the others and saw Trish put out a hand to steady herself against the wall.
Soon after that, we encountered a lot of other people heading in the same direction, converging on the same hallway from multiple angles. Whatever meeting this was, it was a big one.
I realized when we reached the conference room that “big” was something of an understatement. The room was more like an arena. On the floor stood a circular table with five chairs around it. The fifth chair was larger and more luxurious, almost a throne, and it sat facing the fan-shaped theater. There were four tiers of curved tables with executive-style chairs arranged along them and smaller chairs situated behind each of the executive chairs. I estimated there were about twenty executive seats on each tier, and it looked like the chairs were slightly smaller on each level. Behind the tiers with tables was auditorium-style seating for maybe a few hundred spectators.
Much to my surprise, Roger led us to the fourth tier of tables and took his seat, gesturing for the three immunes to sit in the chairs behind him. Assuming that the highest ranks sat at the bottom, I’d have figured him for being much higher. Then again, they’d told me in the interview that he was a rising executive. I supposed he was taking the advice about acting like he was already in the job he wanted seriously.
The room gradually filled, mostly from the top down. The higher-ranking people seemed to be waiting until everyone else was there before they made their appearance, which was another unexpected thing about Roger. I’d have thought he’d have at least wanted to be the last one on his tier to be seated, but he was among the first.
I soon saw why, though. “Keep your eyes open,” he instructed us. “Let me know the moment you spot something fishy, whether or not it looks magical.” He sat at high alert as the attendees filed in, apparently taking mental notes about everyone. He didn’t seem to be particularly anxious, just very observant.
At one point, when the tiers were entirely full and two of the seats on the floor had been taken, many of the people moved to rise, as though the judge was entering the courtroom. I glanced at Trish and Bex, who both shrugged. Roger was just starting to stand, and I leaned forward and said, “If you think someone important has just come in, they haven’t.”
He gave me a nod and leaned back in his seat, looking very much at ease. There was a lot of nervous shuffling throughout the room as people gradually realized they’d been hoaxed and made to look foolish. Across the room, a man one level down from us snickered. I could see Roger making note of him, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t want to swap places with that guy.
The final two seats at the table on the floor filled—the ones flanking the big chair. The room then went very quiet. It was at least two minutes by my watch before a figure appeared in the doorway behind the big chair. Some of the people in the room stood. Others glanced awkwardly at each other. I whispered to Roger, “There really is someone there this time.” He stood, and I figured the rest of us should, too, so I got to my feet. We didn’t sit until that man took his seat, and he took his sweet time about it.
It was hard to get a good look at him from my position, and the lighting on him seemed to do more to blur him than illuminate him. There weren’t any projection screens to make it easier to see him. I got the impression of a man old enough to have silver hair, of nondescript height and build. If this was the godfather of the magical mafia, I was a bit disappointed. Then again, when it came to magic, physical size and presence had very little to do with power.
When the godfather spoke, his voice rang throughout the room as though it had been amplified, though I didn’t see any microphones. His voice was rough and harsh, with an accent that might have been British, by way of something else I couldn’t quite place. He talked about the end of the previous year and financial results, the kind of stuff that could have been in any company’s annual meeting. There was no sign that this was any kind of ancient magical secret society.
That was, until he got to the part about the previous year’s key initiatives. That was an interesting way to phrase the big plan to bring Merlin back so he could be defeated once and for all. In fact, this godfather spoke like he’d learned English from reading business books. It was worse than Merlin had been when I’d first joined MSI and he was still getting adjusted to the modern world. Was this another ancient sorcerer brought back to life? I tried to form a mental image of him strong enough to be able to describe him later, but it was difficult when he was so nondescript.
When he finished summing up the failure, I realized I was on the edge of my seat. Would he actually say what their next plan was? I hardly dared hope it would be that easy.
And it wasn’t. Instead of talking about next steps, he turned to the man on his right. “Would you care to explain the failure of this plan?” he asked.
That man gulped so audibly that I heard it. “There were factors outside our control,” he said.
Like me, I couldn’t help but think. I wondered if anyone in this room knew who I was or the role I’d played. If they did, was my presence here considered a victory for Roger or a mistake? I supposed that would depend on the outcome, and I hoped it would be seen as a mistake when I brought this organization down. The way they talked about Merlin and Owen made me gnash my teeth.
The right-hand man didn’t get much of a chance to explain beyond that before there was a puff of smoke and a flash of light, and then he disappeared. “I expect results,” the godfather said. “The one who gets me results will get his seat.” He rose from his throne and abruptly left the room.
Everyone scrambled to their feet, but he was gone before he could see who had stood for his departure. I had a feeling everyone else was mostly watching the others to see who might have a weakness. The people on the top tier focused on the tier below, probably trying to figure out who might move up a level when someone on the lowest tier moved into the vacated seat. Roger, however, eyed that empty seat. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to bother with the intermediate steps. Either he’d jump straight up, or he’d eliminate the biggest threat on each level ahead of him.
The amount of magic in the air grew strong enough that it made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Trish squirmed uncomfortably, and I leaned over to whisper, “It’s magic. That’s what it feels like.”
“Really? I’ve been feeling this my whole life. I just thought it was someone walking over my grave.”
“Yeah, that’s the way it feels when strong magic is being used near you.” I wasn’t sure what they were doing. I didn’t see any obvious pranks, like the one before the meeting, and no magical duels were breaking out among the attendees. They just seemed to all be testing each other.
Surprisingly, Roger didn’t linger to indulge in the jockeying for position. He pushed his way past the others on his row and headed for the exit. We all had to scramble to keep up with him, he’d left so abruptly. I didn’t want to risk him getting too far ahead because I wasn’t sure I could find our office again without him.
We went through the maze of corridors, with ano
ther one of those elevator moments, before we got back to familiar ground. Roger asked us to come into his office with him. “Katie, you were there when their plan failed,” he said when we were seated. “Why do you think it went wrong?”
Here was that loyalty test I’d worried about. I didn’t want to give away any MSI secrets or tell him anything that would help. Then again, if anyone was going to get that chair, it would be best for me if it was Roger because that would take me closer to the heart of the organization. Better to give him a big boost than to have to spend years as he gradually moved up.
