“But they didn’t take them, right? How do you know someone was looking at them?”
“I, uh, booby-trapped the drawer before I left Friday. Nonmagically. And it’s definitely been disturbed. Each page was looked at, probably copied.”
“There’s no legitimate reason for anyone to have been in that drawer?”
He shook his head. “I have the only key—that I know of—and the office is both locked and warded. No one outside the company can get in there when I’m not there. The cleaning brownies even have to work in there during the day instead of at night.”
“Which suggests an inside job.”
“Exactly. Either someone here is helping someone get in, or someone who works here is doing some unauthorized snooping. So, you can see why I think this is important enough to interrupt a meeting. He needs to know right away.” There was another loud flash and pop that made us both jump. “Or I could wait out here until they finish killing each other.”
“Good idea. Have a seat.” He settled uneasily into the chair in front of Trix’s desk. “You said you booby-trapped the drawer. Did you already suspect a spy?”
He shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “I had a feeling.” Owen’s feelings were uncanny and tended to be accurate.
“Who do you think it is?”
“I have no idea. I hate to make accusations at this point, with so little evidence. We just need to be aware that something is going on.”
“It would explain how Idris seems to be right in step with us, like him coming out with a new spell as soon as you found the counterspell for the last one.”
“And since we beat him at that, I can imagine he’s keeping track of everything we do. That’s probably what he was talking about when he said I’d know what he was up to soon enough.”
“How’d you do it?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Do what?”
“Booby-trap your desk.”
A faint pink stain appeared on his cheeks. It made him look even cuter than usual. “I set up some film canisters in the drawer. When I open the drawer, I use a stasis spell to keep them in place. But if someone didn’t know they were there and opened the drawer normally, they’d fall over. This morning they’d been disturbed. I also put a single strand of hair on each page, and they were all gone.”
“Where’d you learn to do that?”
He turned even pinker. “I read it in a book.”
I was about to quiz him on what kind of book—the personal details I knew about him were depressingly few, and despite my best efforts not to, I couldn’t help searching for more—when Merlin’s office door opened and Merlin escorted his guest to the spiraling escalator that led down to the lobby. Merlin looked as unruffled as ever. The CEO of Amalgamated Neuromancy looked like he’d survived a hurricane—barely.
“I take it that went well,” I remarked as Merlin approached the desk.
“Quite. He was most cooperative. Now, Mr. Palmer, were you here to see me?”
“Yes, sir. It’s rather urgent.”
“Then come on, son. Let’s talk. I could do with a cup of tea.”
They disappeared into Merlin’s office and I tried to get back to work, but I was troubled by what Owen had told me. We’d had intruders before—I’d caught one myself. The thought of one of our employees working against us was even more disturbing. What MSI stood for and what Idris stood for were polar opposites. We were all about finding safe ways for magical people to use their powers without revealing themselves to the rest of the world. Idris was all about using that power for domination. Had one of his henchmen managed to get a job here, or had someone at MSI gone to work for him?
About fifteen minutes later, Merlin’s door opened and Owen came out. He still looked troubled, but he flashed me a smile that would have made me lose my balance if I hadn’t been sitting down. “I’ll see you later,” he told me as he left.
Then Merlin appeared in his doorway. “Katie, may I see you for a moment?”
I got up and headed to Merlin’s office, a flutter of nervousness forming in my belly. He didn’t suspect me, did he? I’d been instrumental in stopping Idris so far, even if I said so myself, and since I was nonmagical, I had no motivation for helping Idris use nonmagical people for his own ends.
“Please, have a seat,” Merlin said when I entered his office. He remained standing as I perched on the edge of the sofa. “Mr. Palmer briefed you on the situation, didn’t he?”
