A-Cup Angst Ch. 03

Moran loaded a different set of photographs on his laptop. It was a collection of photos her classmates had uploaded to social networking sites in the past month. He kicked himself mentally, even before he started, but his pride prevented him from not mocking her tone of voice. Just as he wasn't to teach her magic, she wasn't to teach him how to investigate. Particularly not a missing person's case, which this assignment was turning out to be. "This is your daughter's face," he indicated on one of the photos. His finger moved lower. "And this is her bust. Ample." Worth's mouth fell open. He displayed more photographs, all showing Helena Worth sporting her large knockers.

Dana felt a bit bad for her when he saw the emotion in Alice Worth's face. A tear rolled down her cheek. Her finger reached out to caress the image on his screen. "What have you done," she asked the picture. She cleared her throat, blinked her eyes and set her dainty jaw. "This doesn't mean anything. Just because my daughter modified her appearance..."

Finally, Dana felt like he had her attention, so he hurriedly explained, "Her cellphone stopped working at almost the exact same instant as those of her three classmates. The girl you identified as her best friend, Sonya Mitchell, also turned her cell phone off, less than five minutes later. None of them have been turned back on since. I've done some preliminary inquiring, and all five of them left their houses to go on a last hurrah before college, all on the day before we arrived here to not be greeted by your daughter at the airport. When you look at the stills of the Las Vegas attack and compare them to the images of the five kids in question, they match general descriptions. And yes, all three of the girls in question were of 'athletic' build until recently. Near as I can form a timeline from these photos, they grew a week or two after your daughter did."

Alice was in shock. She had raised her daughter better than this. How could she have fallen in with these people? It must be Mitchell's fault. She kept telling her to stop keeping company with that girl. Helena loved Sonya to a fault and kept following her lead, no matter where she led. "Attack in Vegas," she inquired, business-like. If it did turn out to be something her daughter did, she'd need to pin it all on the other four and keep her record clean. The Johansson clan had an unblemished record with Section and it simply had to stay that way.

"Full report's right here," he said, as he brought it up on the screen.

She started to read it and then asked, "Have you shared your theory with anyone else?"

"No," he said softly. "I think this is... more of a personal matter than an official one. Friends and family come first and foremost. Don't they?"

Alice could tell, by his tone of voice, that he was trying to ingratiate himself with her, whilst not being obvious. He must think himself clever and subtle. She had seen it all before, a thousand times. All the mundanes either lost it within weeks and had to have a debilitating mind wipe, or they started to try and make friends amongst magicians, hoping to gain power by proxy. She smiled. As long as he thought he was going somewhere, he'd be of use. Kicking him to the curb someday, would be the simplest thing in the world. "I agree," she said. "Let's play things close to the vest, for now. No need to share unconfirmed theories, just yet." He nodded. "Thank you, agent Moran. Please book us a flight to Las Vegas."

He left with a barely suppressed smile. She levitated a mirror. She concentrated and an image of her brother appeared on it. "Paul," she addressed the mirror, "Helena is in Vegas, I think. She's fallen in with a bad crowd and they're officially on the Section's radar."

"How can I help," inquired her brother.

"Get on those fucking useless seers and put a fireball up their collective asses," she all but screamed. "First they make the vague announcement of something new arising here and they flag it lowest priority and give no info, and then, when my scrying fails to locate Helena, they suddenly can't find her? Gimme a fucking break!" The image in the mirror grunted in agreement. "Get those vague, hazy fuckers to give me some info! Specific and hard intel, for once! And, while you're there, arrange for some of our cousins to get some time off. Get them one of the off-the-books jets and have them meet me in Vegas."

"When," he asked.

"Yesterday, Paul," she answered. "Last week would have been even better." She kept berating herself for not scrying on Helena the instant she wasn't at the airport, instead of doing the seers' bidding and searching for this new vagueness. She knew it wouldn't have made a difference, but it irked her, nonetheless. The whole point of her taking this milk run was to spend time with Helena, while dragging her feet on the search for this new whatever it was.

"You got it, sis," spoke the image in the mirror before it vanished. Alice let the mirror softly drop and delved into the report on the attack and the small file the mundane, Dana, compiled for her. The report identified the boy of the group as the primary assailant and the mage claimed his spells were dispelled before he could unleash them. He claimed his magic was being fiddled with, while still being a part of him. Only a rare breed of mages Section called Duelists could do that. If this young man turned out to be an actual Duelist mage, Section would bend over backwards to recruit him as their chief enforcer. Bringing him in would be a fine feather in her cap. A badge of honor for her clan.

Section was tasked by the Government to maintain order in the magical community and to protect vital, national interests. They were modeled after the french Directorate of Paranormal Affairs and their current incarnation harkened all the way back to the Revolutionary War. Section was headed by The Suit, a person appointed by the President. He, or she, wore an enchanted suit of clothes that made them immune to magic and concealed their identity from everyone. When a magician was licensed, they signed their license in blood and the license went into a pocket of The Suit. Senior politicians, elected officials and strategic military personnel were also required to sign on to protection by the Suit. Anytime a licensed witch made an offence, or magic was used on one of the protected personnel, a paper with the exact details would pop out of The Suit's pocket and Section would be dispatched to undo the damage, conceal magic from the mundanes and apprehend and punish those responsible. Much like the mundane police, they didn't have the manpower to undo all the wrongs that could be done if a large portion of the populace suddenly went rogue, so they actually kept the peace by means of intimidation. If they had a Duelist on the books, magical crime would all but vanish. Foreign sorcerous espionage would become a rare thing, as well.

A thorough read of the report revealed the blonde she suspected could be Helena, didn't actually participate in the attack. Mitchell wielded a gun, which was weird for a witch, even one with so little power as her, and the other two girls tortured the magician. Moran had named the girls Rose Romano and Sandra Grant. The names didn't ring a bell in her head, but the boy's suspected name did. Jamie Jacobs. She had heard that name before. She looked at the school photos and was sure she saw the boy's face before. Finally, it dawned on her. The Jacobs lived in a tiny, ugly house that was right behind hers. Their humble dwelling was a blight on the upscale neighborhood, and Alice was often tempted to use her magic to make them leave. And the boy, she remembered, was the mundane one Helena cast glamours on, when she was but a little girl. Yes, Alice had given her a stern talking to because of that. Apparently, it didn't take, and she now used the mundane boy as a front for her witch-gang.

Alice frowned. She knew the boy had no power and all the Duelist ruckus that was shaking up Section, would be for naught, except to complicate her efforts to find and help Helena, in a discreet fashion. The report indicated they didn't steal anything, they just ruined the magician's legitimate business contracts under the pretext of liberating his slaves. She huffed in frustration. So many questions and all of her many resources kept coming up empty. The victim was being flown to D.C. to be interrogated by the top echelon of Section, perhaps even The Suit itself. Her grandfather would probably be brought in on that. She had no idea how she would get the cagey, manipulative, old fart to give her the unredacted version of the testimony.

She looked in the direction of the Jacobs' house, as if she could see through the walls. She needed to pay a visit to the parents and friends of every one of these kids that apparently ran with her daughter. And she'd start with the ones that were nearest.