Free Black Magic Woman by Justin Gustainis Page A

attesting that he hasn't brought anything illegal into the country," Fenton said. He eyed Van Dreenan's suitcase. "I hope you're not going to make a liar out of me by having a machine gun in there." He did not sound like he was joking.
    Van Dreenan smiled crookedly. "No," he said. "No… machine guns." The pause was similar to the one Bela Lugosi used to use in the movies when saying, "I never drink… wine."
    * * * *
    The FBI's New York City field office occupies two floors of Federal Plaza on Ninth Avenue and West Thirty-fourth. Although space is at a premium, a couple of small offices are kept vacant for use by agents on temporary duty, and other federal law enforcement types passing through town on business.
    In the room that had been assigned to him, Fenton sat down behind the scratched and battered metal desk, waved Van Dreenan to an equally cheap chair opposite, then took three thick files out of his briefcase and dropped them on the desk. "Three victims," he said. "All children."
    "Ja, I know, three," Van Dreenan said. "So far."
    Fenton shot him a look before continuing. "Two in Pennsylvania, the other one in West Virginia, all within a space of two weeks. Identical m.o. in each case. Uh, that's short for—"
    "I am familiar with the term modus operandi, Agent Fenton," Van Dreenan said mildly. "Go on, please."
    "The Bureau wasn't called in until after the third one. Murder isn't itself a federal crime in this country, but when it appeared that the killer or killers had crossed a state line, that made it our case."
    "By 'our,' you mean the Behavioral Science Unit."
    Fenton nodded. "The field offices handle most of the investigations the Bureau takes on. But serial murder often crosses jurisdictions. And so do we."
    "Your department is quite well known within law enforcement circles, even in backwaters like South Africa." Van Dreenan's voice gave the last words a light coat of irony. "Justifiably famous."
    "Just don't go thinking it's like in the movies or TV. That stuff is mostly crap."
    "I don't go to movies," Van Dreenan said. "And I rarely watch television."
    Fenton fussed around with the files for a few seconds. "I understand you were invited over here as a 'consultant' because your own outfit has got something of a reputation. I'd never heard of it, myself."
    Van Dreenan's big shoulders twitched in something like a shrug. "Not surprising, really. We try to avoid undue publicity."
    "The Occult Crimes Unit." Fenton shook his head. "I thought it sounded like The X-Files, or something."
    "The what files? I don't know about them."
    "Sorry, forgot you don't watch TV. Never mind. I read up on your unit, though, once I was assigned to be your liaison while you're here. You guys are into some pretty weird shit. Some folks over here might not take it real seriously."
    Van Dreenan stared at him in silence for several seconds before he leaned forward. He blue eyes bore into Fenton's as he spoke, but he never raised his voice.
    "There were a hundred and fifty-eight witchcraft-related crimes reported in South Africa last year, Mister Fenton. Many more surely went unreported. Of those, seventy-eight percent involved crimes against people believed guilty of witchcraft. In the outlying villages, the townships, sometimes even in the cities, a man or woman is accused of witchcraft, it is a serious thing. There are consequences."
    Fenton drew breath to speak, but Van Dreenan went on in the same icy, quiet voice.
    "Sometimes the village chief levies a fine, paid to the victim. But if the matter is more serious, the accused witch may be 'necklaced.' Do you know what that means, Mister Fenton, necklacing? It has nothing to do with jewelry, I assure you."
    Again, Fenton was given no chance to answer.
    "You tie someone up, good and tight, ja? Maybe to a tree, maybe not. Then you take an old tire, pour some petrol on it, soak it pretty good. You place that tire around the neck of the person you have tied up. Like putting a necklace on a