{"product_id":"the-magicians-accomplice-isbn-9781569479520","title":"The Magician's Accomplice","description":"An indigent student has been shot and killed in an upscale hotel in the center of Bratislava. It appears to be a professional assassination, but who would want to kill a starving student? After examining the crime scene, Jana Matinova pays a visit to her lover, a government prosecutor. But when she arrives at his office, she learns that he's been killed by a phone bomb. Jana is devastated but determined to find his murderer. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eProfessional killings aren't common in Bratislava. Could the two deaths be connected? Before Jana can even begin investigating, she is transferred to The Hague, headquarters of the international police force of Europol. On the flight, she encounters a retired magician who turns out to be the dead student's uncle. He wants to help Jana investigate his nephew's death. And his help is needed, as Jana is soon confronted with an international conspiracy emanating from Europol itself.“Jana, like a Femme Nikita working the right side of the law, and her professor sidekick are a study in opposites, trading the roles of magician and accomplice in order to stay one step ahead of the assassins. Genelin, like a consummate conjurer himself, effectively deploys a complex story and massive cast of characters to dazzle the reader and pull more than a few rabbits out of his hat.”—\u003ci\u003eBoston Globe\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The reader gets quite a lot in Michael Genelin's Jana Matinova investigation novels. There's always a fast-moving plot, a whodunit mystery element, a travelogue that includes some lesser-known spots in Eastern Europe, perceptive social and political commentary on Europe in the post-Soviet era and a wide array of vivid characters… It also allows us an insider's look on the bureaucracy of today's Europe, equally ominous on both sides of what used to be the Iron Curtain.”—\u003ci\u003ePittsburgh Post-Gazette\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Along with the authenticity of place, the relationship between this unlikely duo is one of the treats of this novel.”—\u003ci\u003eMilwaukee Journal-Sentinel\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“There are no gimmicks, or sleight-of-hand tricks, just dogged pursuit, plenty of worn shoe leather, and characters that are generally not what they appear to be.... \u003ci\u003eThe Magician’s Accomplice\u003c\/i\u003e is a classic police drama and mystery complete with fine dedication to principles.”—\u003ci\u003eNew York Journal of Books\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“In Genelin’s superb third novel featuring Slovakian police commander Jana Matinova ... [he] brilliantly blends action and detection, never allowing the plot twists to overshadow his character’s humanity.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, Starred Review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Genelin pieces his plot together by beginning with relatively few clues and allows Matinova to use her great investigative ability to see what is behind a crime. In this exceptionally wrought story full of cloak-and-dagger suspense, the author slowly reveals the motivation for murder and the life-threatening situation Matinova finds herself in, and this makes the third series title (after \u003ci\u003eSiren\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eDark Dreams\u003c\/i\u003e) perhaps the best yet. Fans of Sally Spencer and Lynda La Plante ... will love this one.”—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, Starred ReviewMichael Genelin is a graduate of UCLA and UCLA Law School. He has served as a consultant for the US State Department and USAID in Central Europe, Africa, Asia, and Haiti. He lives with his wife in Paris.Chapter 1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Savoy Hotel, once known as the Imperial Hotel\u003cbr\u003eor the Grand Hotel when the Hapsburgs reigned in\u003cbr\u003eSlovakia, was now the Carleton Savoy, part of a worldwide\u003cbr\u003echain. The new owners had retained its classic façade\u003cbr\u003eso it still maintained its old majesty, satisfying the local\u003cbr\u003ecity officials that they had not destroyed the “spirit of\u003cbr\u003eBratislava.” This, in turn, placated most of the old residents\u003cbr\u003eof the city, allowing them to continue telling their\u003cbr\u003estories about the happenings during the Hapsburg reign.\u003cbr\u003eOf course, the owners of the hotel had gutted the interior\u003cbr\u003eand filled it with the new amenities foreign travelers now\u003cbr\u003edemand. Most of the Savoy’s aristocratic ambience had\u003cbr\u003ebeen lost in the process.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDenis would have been happier with the old building.\u003cbr\u003eEven though he was young, he was a traditionalist: unlike\u003cbr\u003eother traditionalists, he accepted change as the way of the\u003cbr\u003eworld, particularly today. On this Friday he was looking\u003cbr\u003eforward to the Royal Breakfast the Carleton Savoy provided\u003cbr\u003efor its guests. The breakfast buffet, set out in the\u003cbr\u003edining room, was truly scrumptious, arrayed on a multiplicity\u003cbr\u003eof tables that occupied the whole center of a huge\u003cbr\u003earea, the platters of food encompassing everything the\u003cbr\u003eheart could possibly desire for breakfast.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDenis was not a guest of the hotel. He could never have\u003cbr\u003eafforded a room here, even for one night. Like so many\u003cbr\u003estudents in Slovakia and the rest of the world, Denis had\u003cbr\u003every little money. He scrimped and scrounged his way\u003cbr\u003ethrough life, but today he was going to have a special\u003cbr\u003etreat. This weekend his belt would not pinch his backbone\u003cbr\u003ethrough a screamingly empty stomach, courtesy of\u003cbr\u003ethe Carleton Savoy’s Royal Breakfast.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo accomplish his mission without being discovered,\u003cbr\u003eDenis had dressed up in his only suit, put on a white\u003cbr\u003eshirt and tie, brushed his shoes, not forgetting to put a\u003cbr\u003elittle fireplace soot on the leather to conceal the scuffs.\u003cbr\u003eTo complete his image, he carried a large briefcase. Once\u003cbr\u003eat the entrance to the hotel, Denis took on the slightly\u003cbr\u003ebored look of a guest and walked through the front doors\u003cbr\u003einto the lobby as if he belonged. Today, as he passed the\u003cbr\u003edesk, the pretty young receptionist with the enormous\u003cbr\u003ebrown eyes nodded at him. Denis nodded back with a\u003cbr\u003eslight smile, picking up a Slovak daily newspaper provided\u003cbr\u003efor guests on one of the large, ornate lobby tables, then\u003cbr\u003ewalked to a corner chair next to a massive urn filled with\u003cbr\u003enewly cut flowers and unfolded the paper. Denis scanned\u003cbr\u003ethe front page. The major headlines revealed that a loan\u003cbr\u003efirm had been burglarized and two hundred thousand\u003cbr\u003eeuros had been stolen; the president had condemned a\u003cbr\u003econtract with the foreign oil company that was to exploit\u003cbr\u003ethe new field found in the low Tatras; Finland’s minister of\u003cbr\u003eeconomics had been killed in an apparent robbery; and the\u003cbr\u003eCommunist Party legislators were making noises about\u003cbr\u003edelaying the enforcement of the new penal code. More of\u003cbr\u003ethe same garbage, Denis thought. He managed a chuckle\u003cbr\u003eat the editorial cartoon with the U.S. pictured as an infant\u003cbr\u003egiant, a baby bottle labeled with a dollar sign in one hand,\u003cbr\u003ethe other wiping his backside on little Slovakia.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDenis took a quick look at his watch. Mr. Fico was due\u003cbr\u003ein two minutes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEvery morning, Fico, as prompt as the clock over the\u003cbr\u003edesk, would hurry through the lobby, pass though the\u003cbr\u003efront doors, and walk out to the sedan that was waiting\u003cbr\u003eto take him to his business appointments. Fico did not\u003cbr\u003egenerally have breakfast, which was the reason for Denis’s\u003cbr\u003einterest in him. Although the man didn’t know it, he was the\u003cbr\u003ekey to filling Denis’s stomach. This morning, Denis would\u003cbr\u003eidentify himself to the maitre d’ servicing the dining area\u003cbr\u003eas guest Miroslav Fico, Room 321. Denis merely needed\u003cbr\u003eto be sure that the real Fico had left before he commandeered\u003cbr\u003ethe man’s identity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe elevator door beeped as it arrived on the ground\u003cbr\u003efloor, and right on time, Fico, leafing through a sheaf of\u003cbr\u003epapers he was carrying, bolted out and, looking neither\u003cbr\u003eright nor left, went through the front doors, entered a\u003cbr\u003evehicle, and was driven out of the parking area. That was\u003cbr\u003eDenis’s cue.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDenis folded his paper, picked up his briefcase, and,\u003cbr\u003elooking for all the world as if he belonged, casually\u003cbr\u003estrolled into the dining room.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Good morning,” he nodded to the maitre d’, making\u003cbr\u003esure to articulate clearly, “Room 321, Fico.” The maitre\u003cbr\u003ed’ checked off the number and name on his guest list\u003cbr\u003eand paid no further attention to Denis. The young man\u003cbr\u003eselected a window table, placed his briefcase on it, sauntered\u003cbr\u003eback to the multiplicity of tables laden with food,\u003cbr\u003eand, picking up a plate, strolled down the row. There\u003cbr\u003ewas all kinds of cheeses, sausages, timbales of hot meats,\u003cbr\u003eOeufs Benedictine, Oeufs Diablo, and Oeufs Bordelaise in\u003cbr\u003ehot trays, cold loin of pork with citrus fruit, baked ham,\u003cbr\u003ehoney-roasted bacon with peaches, three types of quiche,\u003cbr\u003etomato clafoutis, chevre infused with cognac on toasted\u003cbr\u003ewalnut bread, melon, berries, and exotic fruits.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDenis viewed them all, just to be sure he didn’t miss\u003cbr\u003eanything, then walked to the other side of the tables. He\u003cbr\u003eeyed the stewed chicken with chestnuts and ginger, buckwheat\u003cbr\u003epancakes, gravlax, all types of rolls overflowing their\u003cbr\u003ebins, four types of fresh-baked muffins, and maple pecan\u003cbr\u003ewaffles. It went on and on, truly a royal banquet. For a\u003cbr\u003esimple student, the array was mind-boggling. He decided\u003cbr\u003eto ignore most of it and focus on what he liked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDenis decided his first course was to be simple. Initially,\u003cbr\u003eeggs, scrambled. Then fruit. Then a side dish of cereal,\u003cbr\u003ebacon, of course, and fresh rolls, and maybe just a bit\u003cbr\u003eof sweet cake to treat his palate. At the last minute, he\u003cbr\u003edecided to also have a few slices of sheep’s milk cheese and\u003cbr\u003ea pair of sausages. His second and third trips would entail\u003cbr\u003every little eating but a lot of filling his briefcase with food\u003cbr\u003eenough to take him through the next few days.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDenis sauntered to the window table where he had left\u003cbr\u003ehis case and seated himself facing out the picture window\u003cbr\u003elooking toward the greenery and fountains, and an almost\u003cbr\u003e180-degree panoramic view of Hviezodoslavovo Square.\u003cbr\u003eHe set his dishes on the table, placed his napkin on his lap,\u003cbr\u003ethen took his first forkful of eggs. They were delicious,\u003cbr\u003emixed with some ingredient that Denis couldn’t identify\u003cbr\u003ewhich made them smoother and moister than normal\u003cbr\u003escrambled eggs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs he ate, Denis watched the pedestrians outside the\u003cbr\u003ebuilding. Beyond the hotel, people were scurrying to\u003cbr\u003ework, many coming from the direction of the Nový Most\u003cbr\u003ebridge, others from that of the baroque National Theater\u003cbr\u003eon the opposite side of the square, all busy ants going\u003cbr\u003eabout their morning activities in Bratislava’s Old Town.\u003cbr\u003eDenis felt wonderful, momentarily the lord of all he surveyed,\u003cbr\u003epretending to wealth he didn’t have, eating a leisurely\u003cbr\u003ebreakfast while everyone raced to jobs. If it weren’t\u003cbr\u003efor the final exams at the university next week, it would be\u003cbr\u003ea perfect moment to be alive.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOutside, a man approached the window. The figure\u003cbr\u003ein a bulky black overcoat filled Denis’s vision. The man’s\u003cbr\u003eeyes were hidden by dark glasses, but there was no doubt\u003cbr\u003ethat he was looking directly at Denis, examining him as if\u003cbr\u003ehe were some type of small caged animal. For a moment,\u003cbr\u003eDenis felt a surge of anxiety, wondering if his fraud had\u003cbr\u003ebeen detected, then decided that it must be something\u003cbr\u003eelse; the man was not dressed as a member of the hotel\u003cbr\u003estaff. Denis smiled, trying to appear friendly, wondering\u003cbr\u003ewhy the man continued to stare at him through the\u003cbr\u003ewindow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMake him happy, Denis thought. It was morning and all\u003cbr\u003ewas right with the world, Denis told himself. Today, inside\u003cbr\u003ethe restaurant, he was a star. And, this morning, he even\u003cbr\u003ehad an audience. It was a good time for him to perform a\u003cbr\u003elittle sleight of hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDenis pulled a coin out of his jacket pocket, an American\u003cbr\u003equarter. He picked up his napkin with his left hand, waved\u003cbr\u003eit in the air, and then covered the twenty-five-cent piece\u003cbr\u003ewith the napkin, holding it so that the quarter was visible\u003cbr\u003eunder the white cloth. Denis then bit through the cloth,\u003cbr\u003einto the quarter, twisting the coin with his teeth. Under\u003cbr\u003ethe cloth the coin looked as if it had been bent in half.\u003cbr\u003eDenis went through the process again, this time reducing\u003cbr\u003ethe coin obscured by the cloth to one-fourth of its size. He\u003cbr\u003ethen whipped the napkin off the cloth, showing that the\u003cbr\u003ecoin had indeed been bent in half, then half again. After\u003cbr\u003ea quick pause, Denis whisked the napkin over the coin,\u003cbr\u003efuriously rubbed the coin beneath the cloth, and then took\u003cbr\u003ethe coin out. It had been restored to its original shape.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDenis looked cheerfully at the man outside the window\u003cbr\u003efor a response. The man was scanning what appeared to\u003cbr\u003ebe a photograph through his dark glasses. The magic-coin\u003cbr\u003eact had not interested him. Denis felt like a failure; he told\u003cbr\u003ehimself that some people are hard to entertain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe man pulled a small automatic from his pocket and\u003cbr\u003epointed it at Denis. Denis got out one word, “No!,” when\u003cbr\u003ethe man began firing. Five bullets pierced the window.\u003cbr\u003eThe thick glass did not shatter, but the bullets left holes\u003cbr\u003ein the window, each surrounded by the slightest spidering.\u003cbr\u003eAll of the bullets hit Denis. He was dead after the second\u003cbr\u003eslug hit him. The other shots had been fired as insurance.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe coin and napkin that Denis had used for his magic\u003cbr\u003eact slipped to the floor. The murderer pocketed his gun\u003cbr\u003eand quickly walked away, mixing with the passersby.\u003cbr\u003ePeople outside the hotel who’d heard the shots milled\u003cbr\u003earound anxiously; but in the huge space fronting the hotel,\u003cbr\u003ethe gunshots had reverberated and it was not clear where\u003cbr\u003ethey had come from.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe murder, and the murderer’s escape, were over\u003cbr\u003ebefore anyone noticed that Denis, still sitting at breakfast,\u003cbr\u003ewas dead. Aside from a few forkfuls of eggs, the young\u003cbr\u003eman had not eaten his royal meal.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChapter 2\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJana Matinova was sound asleep after a night of investigating\u003cbr\u003ea barroom brawl that had resulted in the deaths\u003cbr\u003eof two men and one dog. The bar’s manager had ordered\u003cbr\u003ethe dog’s owner to remove his dog. The man refused. The\u003cbr\u003emanager tried to pull the dog out by his collar. The dog bit\u003cbr\u003ehim. The manager lost his temper and hit the dog over the\u003cbr\u003ehead with a bottle, killing it. With that, the dog’s owner\u003cbr\u003eattacked the manager with a knife, the manager used a\u003cbr\u003ebroken bottle as a weapon, and before long both men were\u003cbr\u003edead, one from stomach and lung wounds and the other\u003cbr\u003efrom a severed artery.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJana considered not answering the phone when it rang,\u003cbr\u003ebut commanders of the Slovakian police are required to\u003cbr\u003epay attention to their phone calls, so she eventually picked\u003cbr\u003eit up. “Be quick with whatever it is you have to tell me,”\u003cbr\u003eshe said. She had been dreaming of her lover, Peter Saris,\u003cbr\u003eand resented the interruption.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Commander Matinova, it’s Warrant Officer Seges.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe did not like to hear from her warrant officer during\u003cbr\u003eoffice hours, much less when she was in a deep sleep.\u003cbr\u003eShe checked her alarm clock; she’d managed to get exactly\u003cbr\u003ean hour and a half of sleep. Jana was about to launch into\u003cbr\u003ea diatribe when she realized that Seges was aware she’d\u003cbr\u003eworked all night. One thing he knew, under these circumstances,\u003cbr\u003ewas not to call unless it was urgent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The prime minister has been assassinated, I take it,”\u003cbr\u003eshe suggested.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No, but there’s been a murder.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“So, assign two of the senior men.” There was a procedure\u003cbr\u003efor such events. Jana was still in the grip of sleep\u003cbr\u003eand could not remember who was on duty at the moment.\u003cbr\u003e“There’s a duty roster. You should know who to assign.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Commander, Colonel Trokan asked me to call you.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe sat up in bed. It couldn’t be a simple murder if\u003cbr\u003eTrokan wanted her on the case.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Who was killed?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“From what our patrol people said, a student.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“From a well-known family?” She swung her legs from\u003cbr\u003eunder the covers and sat on the edge of the bed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No, Commander.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One student killing another?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I don’t think so, Commander. I was told it looks like a\u003cbr\u003eprofessional assassination.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat jolted her awake.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Where did it happen?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“At the Carleton Savoy.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA professional killing at the Carleton. Now it made\u003cbr\u003esense. The colonel was a canny man who carefully watched\u003cbr\u003ehis back; he would want her to supervise this case. It\u003cbr\u003ewould make the news. And whenever there was big money\u003cbr\u003einvolved, as there was with this hotel, the management\u003cbr\u003ewould want assurance that the police thought enough of the\u003cbr\u003eseriousness of the situation to attach a senior officer to lead\u003cbr\u003ethe investigation.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Send a team to the site.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“They’re already there.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt wasn’t like her warrant officer to be this efficient. He\u003cbr\u003ewas too lazy and inept. But, she guessed, even Seges recognized\u003cbr\u003ethe need to appear competent on a case like this.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’ll be there,” she growled into the phone, then hung up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThirty minutes later she walked through the front door\u003cbr\u003eof the hotel.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe dining-room staff huddled at two tables in the corner,\u003cbr\u003eas far away from the murder victim as they could get\u003cbr\u003eand still be in the room. Several guests occupied another\u003cbr\u003ecorner. They were being selected and questioned one by\u003cbr\u003eone in the atrium area by the investigators from Jana’s\u003cbr\u003edivision.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJana nodded to her men. One of them, Benco, began\u003cbr\u003eto approach her. Jana gestured him back to the witness\u003cbr\u003ehe was questioning. She surveyed the room, the table at\u003cbr\u003ethe window where the body was still being examined and\u003cbr\u003ephotographed, then focused through the windows on the\u003cbr\u003earea fronting the restaurant.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA perimeter of barriers had been set up outside to keep\u003cbr\u003ethe gawkers away. Canvas, quickly supplied courtesy of the\u003cbr\u003ehotel, had been stretched high enough to block both the\u003cbr\u003ewindow in front of the body and the immediate area around\u003cbr\u003eit. They didn’t want people to see a corpse inside the dining\u003cbr\u003eroom. Bad for business.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJana walked to a table next to the body, where Elias,\u003cbr\u003eanother of Jana’s investigators, was seated listing the contents\u003cbr\u003eof the dead man’s briefcase as well as the items that\u003cbr\u003ehad been taken from his pockets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Commander,” he nodded at her. “The kid’s name was\u003cbr\u003eDenis Macek, a student at the Polytechnic University.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe slid the decedent’s student ID over to her. Jana studied\u003cbr\u003ethe picture of the young man in the left-hand corner of\u003cbr\u003ethe laminated card, then put it down. Not much else, not\u003cbr\u003eeven a book in the briefcase. Just waxed paper peeping out,\u003cbr\u003eapparently lining the case. She fingered the paper. “This\u003cbr\u003eis the first time I’ve seen a male student who took such a\u003cbr\u003ething as cleanliness at all seriously.” She sighed. “I guess I\u003cbr\u003ehave to go pay my respects to the dead.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Good morning, Denis,” she murmured to the body as\u003cbr\u003eshe started examining it. “I’m truly sorry you find yourself\u003cbr\u003ein this position. I grieve for you. If you’d lived, you might\u003cbr\u003ehave gone on to raise a family and do great things.” She\u003cbr\u003eglanced around and saw their photographer sitting in a\u003cbr\u003echair, munching on a celery stick he had purloined from\u003cbr\u003ethe food tables, which were still set up. “Have you got all\u003cbr\u003ethe photographs you need?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe wiped his mouth. “Yes, Commander.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJana looked at the holes in the window next to the dead\u003cbr\u003estudent. “Did you get close-ups of the area in the window\u003cbr\u003epenetrated by the bullets?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Of course, Commander.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe checked the floor under the dead youth. A napkin\u003cbr\u003eand what looked like a coin barely protruded from beneath\u003cbr\u003ethe decedent’s shoe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“These items as well,” she instructed the photographer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJana moved the victim’s foot slightly to reveal the coin.\u003cbr\u003eShe signaled the photographer to take a few more photos\u003cbr\u003eand then picked up both the coin and the napkin.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe moved around to the other side of the table to face\u003cbr\u003ethe dead youth. For a student, he was all dressed up. It\u003cbr\u003ewas neither Sunday nor a holiday. Students were rarely\u003cbr\u003eattired the way he was unless forced to by their parents\u003cbr\u003eor by other pressing circumstances. Jana slipped on a pair\u003cbr\u003eof plastic gloves and looked closely at the bullet holes in\u003cbr\u003ethe window, checking the angle of the shots as well as she\u003cbr\u003ecould, even feeling the holes to check their paths through\u003cbr\u003ethe glass. A close pattern, which meant an individual who\u003cbr\u003eknew how to handle a pistol. A professional.","brand":"Soho Crime","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233707667685,"sku":"NP9781569479520","price":16.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781569479520.jpg?v=1767740370","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-magicians-accomplice-isbn-9781569479520","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}