“Are you sure?” Russ Latimer tamped down his hope; simply because Dr. Jones thought he’d found another Solomon vase didn’t mean it would lead anywhere. The last two were complete dead ends; one was useless because there was no one to talk to about it and the other didn’t lead anywhere because the woman didn’t remember anything and the “drug dealers” didn’t have any real information.

“Fairly confident. I’d like you to look at some of the rest of the stuff in the stall as well; some of it was magical and it didn’t look new.” Professor Jones sounded excited. “The spells weren’t like anything I’ve seen as an enchantment, either. They’re all old items and the enchantment work doesn’t look like what I saw in the Tutorial.”

Russ sighed at that. It sounded very interesting and was definitely something he wanted to get a look at, but there was one small problem. “How long will it be there? I’m in Idaho.”

If it wouldn’t be there long, he might be able to send someone official to detain the seller, but the fact that it was at a flea market made that difficult; things moved at flea markets that weren’t always completely above board. The people he was the most interested in would be the most likely to disappear immediately if he sent UERT; DHS wasn’t any better. Neither group was well suited for this, which was - of course - the reason he was in Idaho. Tracking down someone who abused a hypnosis ability wasn’t exactly the sort of work he’d done before, but it was certainly within his ability.

“Several more hours today, I’m sure, but the market isn’t open again until next weekend.” Dr. Jones didn’t sound happy that Russ wasn’t available.

“Right, then what I want you to do is buy all of the vases. Go ahead and bargain for them, but don’t bargain too hard. Make sure you pay with a credit card; most sellers will take credit for large purchases.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it often worked on the gray market. However traceable it was, they didn’t assume the purchase would get to the police at all; they were usually more concerned about transaction fees than anything else.

It helped that most of what Russ had to deal with was antique but not apparently particularly valuable; that would probably change in the future as more people became able to see magical traces. “If they won’t, tell them you’ll have to go get cash. Either way, I want you to get to your car and get inside before you call me again. Got it?”

“Yes, I think so.” Dr. Jones sounded doubtful despite his words.

Russ grinned to himself. He hoped he’d guessed correctly about this one. “They’re what, fifty each, probably?”

“Seventy-five,” Dr. Jones answered. “The main thing I wanted to show you is two hundred.”

Not quite right, but close enough. Russ shook his head; sometimes it was good to have outside funding. “Then buy it as well as the vases. Bargain it down if you can, that’s high for the vases. I’ll make sure you’re reimbursed, one way or another. In fact, pick up anything that you can that’s strongly magical, but try to keep it under … hm. Let’s say a thousand.”

“A thousand. Got it.” Dr. Jones sounded happy now. “I’ll call you when I’ve got everything in the car.”

Russ smiled. It took so little to make people happy sometimes. “Sounds good, and thanks for the call. Have fun.”

Russ hung up and called another number.

“Quincy here. That you, Latimer?”

“Yeah. You’re still on the east coast, right?” Russ was working with a different pair of FBI liaisons for the Idaho trip; he hadn’t worked with them before, which made it a bit bumpier than the last time with Quincy and her partner.

Quincy sounded sour when she replied. “I’m still shackled here in Boston, dealing with that building and the trials of those idiots. I’m beginning to think Boston’s trying to get me transferred here.”

“I thought the trials were over?” Russ had already recorded his statements, at least. Trials usually took time, but he’d thought this group was on the accelerated trial schedule because they needed to be moved to a facility that had been upgraded to contain “magically active prisoners.”

“Appeals,” Quincy grumbled. “Those aren’t going to be accelerated, either. The building’s cleared out, too, but getting the paperwork cleared up to pay the consultants…” She sighed. “It’s nothing you have to deal with. What do you have for me?”

“A lead on the Solomon vases. That case was transferred to you after Boston, wasn’t it?” Russ grinned. He’d been bounced from person to person over the vases, but someone eventually made it stick that they were Magically Active Objects instead of Stolen Art. Even after that decision, he’d had a different person working each sighting until they were finally associated with another case.

“If you’d told me two years ago that I’d be honestly concerned about Indiana Jones-style lost magical artifacts, I wouldn’t have believed you.” Quincy sighed. “Remind me about the problem. You’re worried about genies from inside the bottles taking over the bodies of the people who find them and then doing something?”

“More or less. The spirits are all a little different; we’re fairly confident that a handful of weird cases can be traced to them; of the ones we know of, we’ve managed to rescue two people. One was in a parking lot, while the other was the one that led to the discovery that they were the Solomon vases. The parking lot recovery seems to have ended a string of occurrences in parking lots where vehicles were damaged, almost aged or partially dissolved.” The evidence wasn’t perfect, but it rarely was. Since there had been no further “decay” incidents, Russ had to believe something had happened to stop them.

“I suspect the woman we found in Boston was supposed to be the third victim, but as far as I can tell, she hadn’t been affected yet.” She had nightmares, but that was all. Russ wanted to get her connected with someone who could both help and monitor her, but she’d rejected the suggestion of counseling, even when he’d told her it would be paid for because of what happened to her. It wouldn’t be paid by the state; Russ would have paid, and paid happily.

“There’s clearly someone behind it, but I have no idea what their goal is.” Russ shook his head. “Some of it seems targeted but an awful lot seems to be left to chance, almost like whoever it is wants chaos rather than a specific result. I’m pretty sure it’s not someone who learned about magic during the past two years, but beyond that I really don’t know much.”

“It’s never completely random,” Quincy objected. “There’s always a pattern, and a fourth location may be enough to help us find it. What have you found?”

Russ grinned. He was going to enjoy Quincy’s groan. “I should note that it wasn’t me that found it. There are apparently three Solomon vases at a flea market in New York City. I have an address, but I don’t know the city well enough to know what the location means. Normally, I’d have Rissa handle it, but she’s still offplanet.” He paused for a moment to make sure Quincy didn’t have anything to say to that. “Since she’s not available, I asked the man who found them to go ahead and buy them with a credit card, so that you can trace the purchase. He’ll call me once he’s done and give me the details.”

“That’s a starting point, at least. I’ll start the process, but it could be a couple of hours before I can actually get anyone to the flea market to bring the seller in for questioning.” Quincy sighed. “If he’s involved at all and your man on the ground gives him any reason to believe he’s being watched, we’ll never catch up. Who do you have there, anyway? I didn’t think you had anyone in New York City right now.”

Russ grinned at the perfect opening. “Why, Professor Richard Indiana Jones, of course, from New York University.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone call. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

Russ’s grin became wider. “No, that’s actually the name his parents gave him. He’s an archaeology professor, too.”

“Why do people do that to their kids?” Quincy’s sigh was clearly audible. “I’ll get off the line so you can take that call from your professor. Make sure you get the information needed on the purchase; also, the name and location of the shop.” Quincy hung up without waiting for Russ’s answer.

Russ debated if there was any point in getting out of his car. He’d followed the hypnotist to a suburban house, but Professor Jones had called right after he parked. He didn’t know what the hypnotist was doing there, but he couldn’t do two things at once and the professor ought to be done shortly; he’d half expected Dr. Jones to call while he was on the phone with Quincy. He’d better wait; he could watch and see if the hypnotist or anyone else emerged from the house. It would give his handlers time to catch up; they’d appreciate that.

They still hadn’t arrived when Russ’s phone rang a couple of minutes later. “It’s good to hear from you, Dr. Jones. Did everything go smoothly?”

“Yes,” the professor answered happily. “I managed to get a lot more for that thousand than I expected. The seller didn’t seem to be all that happy to sell all three vases to me until I mentioned student projects, but after that he was willing to come down a lot on all of his prices. I think he’s thrilled that some of the stuff he collected is of historical interest, though I’m a bit surprised he didn’t try to hold out for more. I really thought it was a mistake when I said that, some people seem to think that having an archaeology professor interested means they have really valuable antiques.”

Russ frowned. The professor seemed to have avoided the pitfall Russ had worried about, scaring the seller off, but he might have fallen into a different pitfall. “That’s good to hear. Do you have a safe place to keep them until I can have someone pick them up from you?”

Professor Jones continued on as if he hadn’t heard Russ’s question. “The seller even asked when I’d be interested in more; I told him I didn’t have the funds for it right now, but I’d try to arrange some. I mentioned a donor who was covering this - that’s you, in case you didn’t catch it - and he said he’d love to meet you. So, ah, I gave him your phone number. I didn’t think you’d mind?”

Russ wasn’t entirely thrilled that Dr. Jones had gone so far off script, but it could have been worse. Actually, it could have been a lot worse; this might give him another way to locate the seller if things went wrong. It might be better to try the professor’s method first; he’d have to call Quincy back with an update; it would change their plans moving forward. He would be happy to pose as an artifact buyer; he’d done it before and it usually worked well if you could get that first introduction. “It’s fine. Did you give him my name?”

“I did!” Dr. Jones’s confidence seemed to be restored with Russ’s positive response. “I told him you were a donor I met through one of the other archaeology professors and that we were still trying to get you to invest more in the University. It’s a continual fight for funding-”

Movement at the house Russ was watching caught his eye. It wasn’t the hypnotist; instead, it seemed to be a boy, probably in his mid-twenties. He walked out into the street and stopped there. “I’m sorry, professor, I need to let you go. Can I call you back later tonight?”

Russ hung up as soon as he had anything resembling a positive response from the professor. He had a hypnotist to deal with and probably at least one bystander to rescue. It was going to be a busy day.

Lillene

Russ is a busy, busy man. Maybe I’ll be able to fit in a mention of Red or Phoebe next time…