Magic World (working title): Chapter 9 part 9

After they were out of sight, Bernard stood there for a moment, listening.

No sirens yet. On a day this clear you would be able to hear them miles off.  He walked around to the back of the Escalade and opened the hatch, pulling out a shoulder bag, containing a laptop, and a backpack containing a change of clothes.

He hadn't been expecting the duffel though, so this threw a wrench into his perfectly laid plans. In the end he changed his clothes, into bright yellow golf shirt, tan khakis, sandals and a flat cap, then put the old clothes, and half the cash into the backpack, and the other half into the laptop bag, distributed as one layer to just make it look a little thicker.

He still had the cuts from Adam and Wallace, which he stuck in the cargo pockets of his shorts. Then he stood still and listened again. Still nothing, except the quiet sounds of the halfling's breathing in the background.

That was... odd. By now he should at least heat distant sirens. Across the street was a small lake, and the area around here was totally flat, except for the trees. The sound should carry. Frowning he jogged around the far side of the Deli past a couple greenhouses, then peeked out to the road. Nobody was there, so he stepped back into the road, turned left, and started toward the Deli.

His black-on-black mustang was parked in the very last space, its matte black surface streaked by the reflective black stripes. The windows were completely blacked out.

As was his habit, he set aside his burdens and laid down on the ground beside it looking for any tell-tale signs that anyone might have tampered with it. He didn't see any, so he stood back up and slowly put the key in the lock. This failed to cause explosion, so he turned the key counterclockwise slowly and deliberately. There was no catch or any resistance, so he opened the door.

On the cream colored leather seat he found a yellow sticky note. He checked his surroundings self-consciously, then tossed his bags into the back seat and pulled the note from the seat. The heat of the day had made the inside of the car warm, and some of the sticky stuff from the note stayed on the seat.

Bernard winced in annoyance and looked at the note.

"When yo' fru muckin' abou' out dere why don' you come in an' 'ave a cuppa?"

His nostrils flared. He only knew one person who WROTE in a cockney accent.

He strode over to the front door of the Deli, and paused, listening again. No sound came from inside. Last time he was here there was a radio playing. No sound of conversation either. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. 

An orc dressed in a perfectly tailored suit with a ponytail so long it hung to the middle of his back stood with his back to him leaning over the counter, and eating a sandwich. He glanced casually over his shoulder at Bernard, in perfect confidence that if things went bad, he would still have a perfect suit. 

Bernard looked left and saw a brown skinned dwarf with a mustache and afro, and a chin beard in little braids. He stood with one hand in his pocket, the other swinging carelessly at his side, though in close reach, to the pistol on his hip. 

And behind him, sitting in a booth by himself was a dark elf. 

*********************************** Chapter 9 part 10