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“The all-meat hood ornament on a city bus. He took a shot at me today after I told a buyer I didn’t have the 8 Ball.”
“Why do you think I might know the man?”
“I was hoping he might have been one of Aelita’s crew when she ran your security.”
Blackburn shakes his head.
“Aelita took care of the men herself and kept them at a distance from the household. I never got to know any of them personally.”
It was a long shot but I had to try.
“If you want my opinion,” says Blackburn, “you’re looking at this all wrong. You see the Qomrama and immediately think of Aelita. But what about a rival? If she doesn’t have it anymore—if she’s lost it or is hiding it—surely there are other people in L.A. who would like to get their hands on an object with that much power.”
“You included.”
Blackburn shakes his head.
“It’s tempting, but I don’t want anything to do with Aelita or anything she’s involved with.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“You might also be interested to know that someone in L.A. has put a magic object on the market recently. An object he claims is unrivaled in its importance. Sound familiar?”
“You think this asshole has the Qomrama?”
“It’s possible,” says Blackburn. “If I had something that powerful, I would only approach a few of the best-placed families. You don’t want something like that going to the wrong sort of people. However, this person might not realize what he or she has.”
“Then why would someone try to buy it from me and take a shot at me when I wouldn’t sell?”
“Because the buyer is hedging his bets. He’s probably made offers to both of you. The two people currently connected to the Qomrama.”
“That’s a lot of maybes.”
“True. But if you can find out who’s selling the object and who’s bid on it, maybe it would point you in the direction of what you’re really looking for.”
I want to poke holes in Blackburn’s idea, but I can’t, mainly because I have no ideas of my own. I’ve spent the last month chasing rumors and banging my head into stone walls and come up with nothing. At least Blackburn’s idea gives me something to do.
“So who’s selling Aladdin’s lamp?”
“I don’t know. The seller is shy and only goes through intermediaries.”
“What’s the intermediary’s name?”
“Brendan Garrett. A professional dealer in mystical exotica. I’ll write down his address.”
Now there’s one less maybe in the world.
“Garrett? The guy who tried to buy from me today was named Garrett.”
Blackburn finishes writing and hands me the piece of paper.
“That’s probably your answer right there. You’ve been pulled into the middle of a family squabble.”
“Right. One brother wants it and the other has a line to it but won’t cut the other brother in on the deal. I can see some Lifetime Channel drama in that.”
I look at the address. It’s a glitzy hotel and a room number.
“I’m glad I could be of help. Especially if it’s going to save the world. Even I have people I’d rather not see hurt in a celestial war.”
