Much Ado About Magic (Enchanted, Inc. #5)

Much Ado About Magic (Enchanted, Inc. #5) Page 49

“The necklace is giving me fits.”

“See if it’s stronger in any one direction.”

The observation deck was crowded on a summer Sunday afternoon, so that was easier said than done. On the bright side, having to squirm my way through crowds meant that meandering all over the place wasn’t too terribly obvious. Gemma and Marcia joined me, and, giggling, they both leaned over and said into my earpiece, “Hello, Charlie.”

I gave them what I hoped was a withering glare and hissed, “Knock it off, you two. This is serious.”

“Who’s Charlie?” Owen asked.

“My friends are getting delusions of grandeur about being on a secret mission.” Gemma stuck her tongue out at me, and Marcia took her picture.

“That better not have film in it,” Gemma shrieked, lunging for Marcia’s camera. It was a shame I hadn’t yet found the magical transmitter because they were creating a nice diversion.

“Are you getting anything?” Owen asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell much of a difference.”

There was a tug on my sleeve and an older man said, “Excuse me, miss?”

“Just a sec,” I whispered to Owen. “Yes?” I said to the man.

He held a digital camera out to me and gestured toward his wife. “Could you take our picture?” He had a heavier Southern accent than I did.

“Sure.” I framed them against the skyline and took the picture, then showed it to them on the camera’s LCD screen. “Is that good, or do you want another one?”

“That’s fine, thank you.” As they walked away, I heard him say to his wife, “See, I told you New Yorkers could be friendly.”

“Sorry about that,” I said to Owen. “Now, what do you need me to do?”

“Get out the radio.”

I pulled it out of my purse and almost dropped it, it was vibrating so heavily. “Oh, is the game on?” Gemma said a little too loudly, even though no one seemed to be paying any attention to us. At least, they wouldn’t be if Gemma didn’t keep drawing their attention.

“It’s going nuts,” I told Owen.

“Check the tuner dial. It should move to the right when you get closer to the transmitter.”

I went back to my aimless wandering, holding the radio up to my ear like I was listening to it and checking the dial every so often. It was difficult to be sure I was covering the whole deck when I had to dodge families, proposing couples, and just about every youth choir in America, all of which seemed to feel obligated to perform “God Bless America” a capella on top of the Empire State Building.

“Anything yet?” Owen asked, his voice edgy with impatience.

“Sorry, things are crazy up here. Maybe we should have waited and gone at night.”

“You’re there now, so let’s get this done. I want to go home. Now, look at the dial and tell me what it’s doing.”

“It’s scrolling to the left.”

“Then turn right.” I turned right and tried to look like I was ambling casually.

Gemma and Marcia flanked me, Gemma saying loudly, “What’s the score?”

Marcia glanced around nervously and added, “What inning is it?”

“I thought you were supposed to be a foreign tourist,” Gemma whispered to Marcia. “A foreign tourist probably wouldn’t know about baseball.”

“No one here knows or cares if I’m a foreign tourist,” Marcia hissed back. “That was all in your head.”

I cleared my throat. “Um, guys, busy saving the world here.” Then I reported to Owen, “The dial’s moving to the right.”

“Then keep going that way. Stop and change directions when it moves to the left.”

I moved steadily toward the northwest corner of the deck, then I saw something attached to the wall there. “I think I’ve found it,” I told Owen.

Marcia and Gemma came to a stop beside me. “What is it? Where?” Marcia asked.

“That metal box there in the corner,” I said, fighting the urge to point.

“I don’t see anything,” Gemma said, and Marcia shook her head.

“It must be veiled,” I reported to Owen. “Gemma and Marcia don’t see it.”

“Then that’s probably it,” he said. “What does it look like?”

“It’s a metal box attached to the wall.”

“Can you get the cover open?”

“There’s a minor problem with that.”