You Don't Have To Be Evil To Work Here, But It Helps by Tom Holt

furthermore, he’d never known Dad touch a drop before a quarter to six.
    ‘These people—’ Dad stopped, glugged a fair-sized dose of the whisky, and turned round to face him. ‘J. W. Wells & Co,’ he said. ‘Very good firm, probably the best in the business. You know what they do?’
    Colin frowned. ‘Some sort of lawyers, aren’t they?’
    Dad grinned, but the expression on his face had nothing whatsoever to do with humour. ‘Sort of. Actually, they’re—’ He hesitated again; then he fished about in the file and took out a sheet of paper; thick, heavy cream paper, with an old-fashioned embossed black letterhead. ‘Read that,’ he said.
    So Colin read - J. W. Wells & Co. Practical & Effective Magicians, Sorcerers and Supernatural Consultants. 70 St Mary Axe, London EC3
    Then he read it again. Unfortunately, he’d been right the first time.
    ‘What,’ he said, ‘you mean, like, conjurors and kids’ birthday parties and stuff?’
    ‘No,’ said Dad.
    ‘Oh.’ Colin read it a third time. Under the address, he saw:
    Partners: J. W Wells, MAA (Oxon) LLB FIPES DipN; C. N. Suslowicz, FSEE AIBG; Dennis Tanner, BA (Plymouth) BG
    ‘Magic,’ Dad said, and there was a weight of sadness in his voice that Colin had never heard before. ‘That’s what we’ve been reduced to, son. It’s enough to make you bloody weep.’
    Colin screwed his eyes up and relaxed them again. ‘They’re putting in an order for stuff,’ he hazarded. ‘Those little brass interlocking rings, or whatever it is they hide up their sleeves for holding the spare ace of spades, or—’
    ‘Not,’ Dad said (you could hear the fraying of his patience), ‘that kind of bloody magic. This is—’ He stopped, closed his eyes. ‘This is real magic. It’s what they do. It works.’ He breathed out a long sigh. ‘It’s the only thing that can stop H&F going right down the pan. So we haven’t any choice.’
    ‘Magic?’ The word burst out of Colin’s mouth like water from a cracked pipe. ‘Oh come on, Dad, you’ve got to be—’
    ‘I’m fucking not.’ Dad rounded on him so fiercely that Colin took a step backwards. Then he seemed to deflate a little, and went on in a slightly calmer voice: ‘It was Ben Phillips from Amalgamated Box that put me on to them. They were in the same fuck-awful mess as us three years back; then someone told them about these people, JWW, and look at them now. Amalgamated Box plc, and they’ve just bought a fifteen per cent stake in Kawaguchiya Integrated Circuits. So I thought, well, we’ve got fuck all to lose, so why not?’
    ‘Magic?’ Colin repeated.
    ‘Keep your bloody voice down!’ Dad roared. ‘You want the girls in the back office to hear? They’ll think we’ve gone round the bend.’ He sat down heavily, as though he’d just run a marathon. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘magic. Turning stuff into other stuff; casting spells; doing curses, reading the future, disappearing things, the works. Ben says they can even raise the dead and fight dragons.’
    ‘Dragons.’ Colin rubbed his eyes. ‘Dad, have you paid these jokers any money yet, because I’ve got a feeling they’re—’
    ‘It works,’ Dad said firmly. ‘I know it does, because I’ve seen it. That bird who came here—’ He leaned forward, unlocked his desk drawer and pulled out a small leather bag about the size of a baby’s sock. ‘See this?’ he said, and opened the top. Colin peered inside. It was stuffed full of gold coins. ‘That’s a genuine authentic bottomless purse,’ he said wretchedly. ‘You keep on taking the gold coins out, and they just keep on coming. Turn it upside down over the floor, and before long you’re ankle-deep in gold, quite literally. That girl showed me, I nearly shat myself. Unfortunately,’ he added with a rather disturbing grin, ‘if you don’t enter your PIN code the gold turns into little wriggly worms in about ten seconds.’
    ‘Ah. So what’s the—’
    Dad smiled. ‘You don’t get the PIN