Free The New York Magician by Jacob Zimmerman Page A

at which point my patience ran dry as well. I wiggled my glass at Maki, who noticed only after I poked him in the shoulder.
    "I'm sorry, France." He took my glass and dashed off back to the back wall where the bottles were, returning with a generous pour of bourbon.
    "Maki, what's going on?"
    "Where did you find him?" The excitement was setting off warning bells in my head. I frowned at the bartender.
    "Never mind that right now. Who is he?"
    "This is Hapy."
    I mulled that over and tried to pull a reference out of the mess that is my head. "Hapy. Hapy. Wait. On the banks ... " I turned to look at the nondescript man on the stool next to me. "God of the Nile?"
    "Yes!" Msamaki hissed, blazingly excited but trying to keep his voice down. "God of the Nile! Fertility and produce, bringer of life to the valley."
    I looked at the slight figure, who bowed his head. Something was bothering me. Something old.
    "Maki, the Nile was linked to fertility because ... " I trailed off, looking at the little man and then the remaining puddle on the bar in horror. Msamaki finished for me, oblivious to my expression.
    "Because it would overflow regularly and fertilize the valley, yes. Why?"
    I sat there at the bar in Midtown Manhattan, snug between two rivers, and looked at him.
    It took a few seconds for him to turn his gaze to me and notice, and then he blanched.
    "Oh, shit."
    * * *
    I left Hapy with Msamaki, the latter excitedly asking questions, mopping up ever-replenishing spillage on the polished surface of the bar. I don't think he saw me leave. The other - I have no idea.
    New York was waking fully up. It was Saturday, meaning it took me only twice as long as it should have to get back downtown to my apartment. I took off my hastily-donned clothes and redressed in my day-to-day outfit - a soft gray turtleneck underneath the bandolier, a set of gray slacks, crepe-soled dress shoes. The Burberry went back on atop it all, and various weapons about my person. Then I headed downtown.
    I do have a day job, contrary to the impression my other activities might give.. My day job involves managing my own and other peoples' money, which I do using a variety of dirty tricks. The primary one is to have good employees. The rest - infrequently utilized - involve talisman magic. But even so, it's better to have subordinates who know what they're doing. Wibert and Sharansky is a small money management firm with offices in the World Financial Center - nine people, including staff. I carded myself in.
    One of the reasons I'm free to wander around the City on mysterious errands of my own is my desk. My partner and the actual brains behind most of the money moving that happens at our firm, Kharan Sharansky, had come in the day I'd had it delivered, shaken his head twice and said, "Michel, you must be joking."
    "Why?" I was busily opening and closing the myriad small drawers and compartments in the thing. I'd spent a month and a half finding it, two months fighting importers to get hold of it, and two interminable weeks locked in combat with the World Financial Center administrative staff over a freight elevator slot to get it moved in. The thing was massive.
    "Where the hell did you get that thing?"
    I looked up, holding a small drawer that I'd pulled out entirely. There was a secret compartment behind the end cap of the drawer and a completely separate one underneath the bottom plate, and this was only one of - I counted - sixteen drawers in the desk. "I got it in Saint Petersburg. It was in the back room of a bookstore on Nekrasova, around the corner from 4 Liteiny Prospekt."
    Sharansky had glared at me. "Don't fuck with me, Wibert. I know what that address is."
    "That's why I told you. The bookstore owner claimed his grandfather had been building staff at number 4. This was supposedly the Chief of Station NKVD's desk."
    Kharan crossed his arms. "That wasn't my point. My point is that it's huge and I can't see you behind it."
    "So?"
    "So clients won't be