That was the answer: the capitol authorities intended to instill the fear of superiors into the “cleaners” and stumbled upon the dubious magician right away. Locomotive remembered the ugly face of Colonel Grokk and cheered—the chief of the “cleaners” was cruising for a bruising!
Mr. Satal switched to a business-like tone again: “I hope I do not need to explain what our duty is?”
“To give this guy a medal?” the captain suggested.
“To give, but not a medal!” the coordinator exploded. “This man has gone crazy with greed: he conducts expulsion rituals at five-six day intervals. He is leaving no time for basic recovery. We must stop him before he destroys himself and others!”
Locomotive nodded sadly. Dark mages are essentially all the same: loosen the reins a bit, and they over-speed. It would be strange if a crook poking under the nose of the county’s “cleaners” were any different.
“Do we have any complaints?”
Mr. Satal’s face literally blackened; the captain even got frightened. A nutty boss was the last thing they needed here…
“We will act preemptively,” Ms. Kevinahari quickly interposed. “No use waiting for the situation to end in disaster.”
Locomotive nodded readily—let it be preemptive. He was not in the mood to test the reliability of his safety suit.
“We received neither complaints,” the coordinator pulled himself together, “nor certified testimonies. One might as well start a conspiracy case!”
Baer imagined peasants that suffered a great deal from the cleaners’ meanness “greeting” NZAMIPS agents, and he silently sympathized with the coordinator: his people, carrying out their duty, felt spit at up and down. It remained to be seen how they intended to look for the mage, with no statement or witness testimony…
“We don’t have an imprint of his aura,” Ms. Kevinahari added to the conversation. “He uses a portable altar and the most basic spells and always thoroughly destroys all traces of divination. Even if we get a search warrant, unlikely we will find any specific proof.”
“The prudent son of a bitch,” Mr. Satal sighed.
“By the way, he is a good psychologist, too,” the empath seemed to be amused by the difficulties before her colleagues. “For a dark, it is a very rare skill! Nobody saw him without a black coat, leather shoes, a handbag and, more recently, a cane. These flashy attributes of the profession attract all the attention: the witnesses who agreed to speak with us cannot describe his facial features or even his hair color.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t operate alone?” Locomotive suggested cautiously.
“Can you picture a cohesive team of dark magicians?” the coordinator hummed. “No, his style is too unique, precisely because of his elusiveness. The guy works not only with magic, but with people as welclass="underline" he says what they want to hear, does what they expect from him. He is so convincing in this role that even the white don’t feel false; on the contrary, they would rather not trust the police. You have no idea how difficult it is for a dark to achieve this!”
Captain Baer had some ideas.
“That is,” he concluded, “you can only catch him red-handed.”
“That’s it. The county’s office is now trying to find his contacts.”
Locomotive figured that Mr. Satal would wait for a long time for the results from his old friend Yudter: the chief of the county’s “cleaners”, being a seasoned pro, didn’t fear resignation and criticized the politics of the capitol’s authorities, using foul language. He would need to talk to the old man in person; acting together, they would be able to prevent the bloody denouement of the story. The captain didn’t doubt for a moment that the end would be bloody. After the mage’s arrest he would petition the court to mitigate the punishment and, perhaps, even offer the enterprising guy a full-time position at NZAMIPS. But he had to be found first.
“Have you already got some details?” the captain asked.
Ms. Kevinahari took the floor again: “We were able to establish that our smart guy uses public transit for traveling; the analysis showed that the starting point of his routes was, most likely, Redstone. In addition, we noticed certain periodicity in his actions; for example, he never goes to clients on Wednesday. We may, of course, suggest some sort of superstition, but most likely he is engaged in some legitimate work at this time.”
Redstone! That’s why they came to him. Locomotive tried to figure out which one of his charges could have gotten involved in this venture and shook his head: “Redstone is a big town; there are a lot of dark magicians here. Furthermore, there’s the university. This guy just needs to change clothes to mix with townsfolk.”
Mr. Satal reluctantly nodded: “We have a chance to track him down at the station—a man in a black coat, with a cane and handbag should be eye-catching.”
“How many people do you intend to involve in surveillance?” Captain Baer said half-heartedly, weighing his resources.
“Two!” Ms. Kevinahari calmed him down. “It would look strange if I wait at the station alone, without a companion.”
In a quarter of an hour they had created a plan for the operation. Locomotive admitted that an ambush with the empath’s participation was the surest means of solving the problem. The coordinator himself wasn’t going to take part in the ambush, but he couldn’t wait—his eyes thirsted for action. Captain Baer hoped that Mr. Satal would direct his energy at the county’s “cleaning” service. The guard on duty, who replaced the captain’s secretary, called the garage for a car. The fierce coordinator and his empath were shown out to the hotel.
When thick cabinet doors closed behind the visitors, Mr. Vosker loudly gasped; the senior analyst of Redstone’s NZAMIPS was a nervous man that grew pale simply upon hearing the words “dark magician”. Meeting with the new boss made the poor man lose heart.
Inspector Shtoss cleared his throat: “Hmm, a very energetic man.”
Captain Baer just smiled: “He is exactly what is needed to whip Colonel Grokk into shape. Listen,” he turned to Hamirson, and the lieutenant melancholically raised his eyebrow, “Do not do any favors for the county’s “cleaners”, and order your people the same. Everything should go through me! All inquiries should bear signatures, all papers—endorsements. The same applies to the rest of you.”
His subordinates nodded with understanding.
“Grokk will twitch now like a man hanged on a rope; I hope he won’t drag us with him!”
In the evening the NZAMIPS’ office was empty and quiet. Mr. Satal marched proudly to the exit door, glancing disapprovingly at tubs of ficus plants and flowerpots; his empath kept an impenetrable silence. The coordinator broke their quiescence first: “What a sleazebag,” he said through his teeth. “How did he manage to become an officer with such a mug?”
Ms. Kevinahari smiled slyly, but her voice was serious and reserved: “Conrad Baer has been with NZAMIPS longer than I’ve been alive, achieved a perfect career record, liquidated an incident in Nintark, and was awarded a medal twice. A skilled and responsible manager.”
“How does his current behavior fit with the massacre in Nintark?” the coordinator snorted.
“He showed no enthusiasm today,” the empath admitted, “but I cannot say that he does not understand the problem. Rather, the captain chooses the lesser evil. Obviously, the situation with the supernatural is so serious that he is willing to pay for twenty successful expulsions with lives of the mage and those nearby.”
“What a bastard.”
“He is cynical,” the empath agreed, “tends to manipulate others, but he is dedicated to his job. He will go after our guy.”