Yesterday's Hero by Jonathan Wood Read Free Book Online Page A

I ask once it becomes apparent that no one else is going to leap in. Apparently if you sleep with the boss then you get to ask her the hard questions.
    Shaw grimaces. “What I understood was, ‘time,’ ‘we will,’ and ‘bomb.’”
    “Bomb?” My eyes widen. I don’t disbelieve her. I just want to.
    “Yes.”
    There’s silence in the room.
    “Ballsy Russian,” Tabitha says finally. “With a bomb. Or wants a bomb. Or needs a part for a bomb. Wants us to know about it.”
    Not the prettiest picture anyone’s ever painted for me. And while we did save the world, this Russian woman didn’t make us look exactly like we operate in the world-saving league. Having seen her with magic, I’m not sure I want to see her with a bomb.
    “I just want to check,” I say, “but it’s still a no on the days off, isn’t it?”

EIGHT

    S haw doesn’t reply, so I decide to pressure test the new bomb hypothesis for holes. I find one, but not one I expected. “We said she can’t teleport, right?”
    “In detail.” Shaw is rubbing her temples.
    “So how did she get away?” I ask. “We had her in our sights. Then she wasn’t there.”
    “Glamour,” Clyde says. “Illusion magic. The same sort that was used on the T-Rex. The magical and mysterious art of making something appear where it isn’t. Not stage magician sleight of hand, obviously. But it has that same sort of underhand sneaky feel that leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Of course, your opinion of illusionists might depend on how badly disappointed you were by Dynamic Dave, Master of Seven Deadliest Illusions on your eighth birthday.” He catches himself, and shrugs twice. “Anyway we were talking about glamour magic. Totally going to stick to that. Basically, duping people. Obviously that’s simplifying it quite a lot. Visual distortions is closer. Bending light is closer. Summoning refractory space from other realities is almost nail on the head.”
    “Oh,” I say. It’s actually kind of flattering that this Russian woman seems to be going so far out of her way to impress us.
    “Well,” Shaw puts both palms down on the table, “whatever her motives with the T-Rex were, we do know for sure that she stole that stone. What’s so special about it? Can it help her make a bomb? Tabitha, I want you on that.” She pushes back a stray lock of hair. “Now, Clyde—”
    A small black phone on the desk interrupts her. She scowls at it. Unfortunately, the inanimate object refuses to be cowed. She grabs the receiver and puts it to her ear. “Yes?” she says, irritated. “Who?” She flicks a look at Clyde, then Tabitha. “What does—OK. And you said?”
    Shaw’s face darkens. She looks at Clyde more and more. “Yes,” she says finally. “Thank you.” She doesn’t sound grateful.
    The phone hits its cradle. “Clyde?” Shaw says. Her voice is the audio version of a thunderhead.
    “Yes?” Clyde seems to be trying to work out how nervous he should be.
    “Would you care to explain exactly why your ex-girlfriend is banging on the door to the office?”
    Clyde settles on very nervous indeed.

NINE

    “F orgive me if I’m wrong, Clyde,” Shaw uses his name as the verbal equivalent of a club, “but shouldn’t Devon believe you’re working as an accountant on Jericho Street?”
    “I… I…” Clyde stammers. “I…”
    “Let me guess,” Shaw interrupts his stuttering. “When you broke up with your girlfriend, that seemed like a good time to reveal highly privileged information to her, didn’t it?”
    “I… I…” Clyde starts again. “I’ll go out to her.” Shaw’s accuracy has reduced his shoulders to random desperate waggling. “Lay out the whole A-to-Z process that occurred,” he says. “I’m sure she’ll understand—”
    “When she sees your seven-and-a-half-foot tall, wooden-faced self?” Shaw arches an eyebrow. “No. I’ll go.” She stands up. “In the mean time, you…” She looks at us all, and for a moment her