The Shadow

by James Patterson

  I feel the vibration that tells me he’s turning invisible—to everybody but me. I close my eyes and focus. I feel the warm wave wash through me. A second later, I’m invisible too.

  We all step out of the truck and look up the street at the mansion. It’s hard to explain, but when I’m invisible, I can feel stuff I don’t usually feel. Energy. Vibrations. Sixth sense. I don’t know what to call it, but I feel it now from the mansion, even from a block away. Something dark. Something twisted. Then, out of nowhere, a voice comes into my head. It’s the voice from the radio show. It always sounded kind of silly to me before.

  “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?”

  It doesn’t feel so silly right now.

  CHAPTER 90

  I HAVE TO say, getting onto the mansion grounds is almost too easy. Margo tells a guard to open the rear gate, and he does. She walks straight through. Lamont and I are right behind her.

  Talking her way past the guard in the loading area is no trouble either.

  A minute later, Lamont leads us into the dark basement. “Over here,” he says, moving into a dark corner. He reaches up and pulls down a thin metal ladder, like the fire escapes at school. He climbs up the ladder and opens a hatch in a metal duct that runs along the ceiling. Margo follows him up. I follow Margo. We’re in a metal rectangle so tight, we can only fit by lying on our bellies.

  “Lamont!” Margo whispers. “Where the hell are we?”

  “My air conditioning system,” says Lamont. “First of its kind. Runs through the whole basement.” He points off into the darkness. “That way.” He crawls off and we follow. Three ants in a tunnel.

  As we crawl along, we pass over grates that look down into different rooms in the basement, one after the other. Storage area. Workshop. Boiler room. When I move toward the next grate a few yards ahead, I get a weird tingle in my gut. Something tells me not to look down into the room, but I do anyway.

  It’s a room full of bodies.

  They’re all lying face-up on metal tables. Their skin is pale and bluish and their eyes are open and dull. Two of the bodies are right below me, staring up through the grate. It takes me a second to recognize their faces. Julian Fletcher and Creighton Poole. Two people I never wanted to see naked. I get a bitter taste in my mouth and my heart starts thumping like crazy. I start crawling faster.

  A few yards ahead, Lamont stops and raises his hand. I crawl up next to Margo, so close our hip bones are touching. We’re looking down through a thick grated hatch into the room below, bigger and brighter than any of the others. The walls are lined with shelves, and the shelves are filled with bottles. I hear a voice coming from the room, and that dark, twisted energy blows right off the charts.

  Gismonde’s voice.

  CHAPTER 91

  AS THE THREE intruders huddled above, Lamont and Maddy visible again, they could hear that the world president was in fine form.

  “Dear friends,” he began. “The most beautiful moment of the Most Beautiful Day has arrived. The time has come to share the earth’s plenty with those we love.” To the audience of millions around the city, his delivery radiated warmth and goodwill.

  “And now,” Gismonde intoned. “The bounty is yours. Enjoy…and thrive!”

  “Fire in the hole,” whispered Lamont.

  Maddy and Margo wrapped their arms around their heads. Lamont blasted a fireball against the grate. A huge section of ductwork and plaster dropped down into the cellar. Lamont hit the floor first, with Margo and Maddy right behind him. The air was filled with plaster dust, and sparks were shooting from ripped-out light fixtures. Lamont turned toward the elegant desk in front of the arched stone background.

  But the desk was empty. There was nobody there.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Cranston!”

  Lamont spun around at the sound of the voice. On the other side of the room a cluster of video monitors hung above a control console. A dozen of them. The screens showed a variety of views of Gismonde’s face, some framed so close that they showed only his mouth or his eyes, like a bizarre puzzle.

  “Very resourceful,” said the world president. “You’ve reached your destination. But as you can see, you’re a bit too late!”

  The images on the screens switched to views of the food sites in tents around the city. Margo and Maddy moved up next to Lamont. As they watched, white-jacketed attendants appeared from behind the draping near the food trucks, wheeling serving carts loaded with food. At the sight of the overflowing platters, the crowds under the tents exploded with gasps and cheers.

  “No!” Lamont shouted. “You can’t do this!”

  On screen after screen, attendants set huge platters of food in front of wide-eyed guests. Impatient children reached out for their first taste.

  “I’m glad you’re there to see it, Mr. Cranston,” said Gismonde, his face blinking back onto the center screen. “It’s a pity I can’t be there with you.”

  Suddenly, a lightning bolt knifed through the cellar wall, turning stone into gray vapor. Video screens exploded and thousands of wine bottles shattered, spraying the room with glass shards and purple foam. The foundation rocked. Lamont shielded Margo and Maddy with his body as the blast knocked them to the floor. The room was filled with smoke and fire. On the one remaining monitor, Gismonde’s face reappeared, distorted and pixilated. Lamont punched hard at the screen with Gismonde’s face, putting his fist right through the plasma membrane. As he pulled his hand back, he spotted a microphone lying on the console. He grabbed it. He didn’t know if his words would be enough. But he had to try.

  At the tent sites, the speaker columns blasted a burst of static—then Lamont’s voice came through, loud and clear.

  “Stop! Do not eat the food! Not a single bite! It’s all been poisoned!”

  For a second, there was silence across the city. People around the tables seemed frozen in place. Was it possible? It couldn’t be! Then, one by one, people started to stand up.

  “Bastards!” an elderly man cried out.

  “Murderers!” a woman shouted.

  The angry shouts spread from table to table, tent to tent, block to block. Mothers yanked food out of their children’s hands and citizens rose up with fury in their eyes. Men started flipping the heavy tables over, spilling huge platters of food onto the ground. As soon as they saw the uprising, the attendants fled out of the tents, tearing off their white jackets as they went. Police raised their rifles and shouted for order, but they were overpowered in seconds by the surging crowd.

  A few shots were fired, but most went harmlessly into the air. The tables had turned, in more ways than one.

  “That was a huge mistake!” roared Gismonde from the broken screen.

  “Goddammit, where are you?” Lamont yelled at Gismonde’s crazed image.

  Maddy struggled to her feet, aching and bruised. She stared at the distorted image on the screen and felt the evil energy radiate through her like a homing beacon. She wiped blood from a cut on her cheek and turned to Lamont.

  “I know exactly where he is,” she said.

  CHAPTER 92

  THE BUILDINGS THAT surrounded Times Square were still covered with billboards and displays from the last century, but the lights had been out for a long time. With its boarded up windows and empty skyscrapers, the former Crossroads of the World looked more like the old slums of Detroit or Johannesburg.

  Lamont, Maddy, and Margo emerged from the subway tunnel near the building where a ball made of Waterford crystal once dropped to announce the new year. Now angry crowds surged through the streets, wrecking whatever was left to wreck. Huge bins of burning trash spilled into the street, filling the air with acrid black smoke. Fleeing TinGrins ducked behind buildings and fired into the crowd, but it was like trying to stop an ocean wave. Lamont pulled Margo and Maddy behind a row of cement barriers as ragged citizens rushed past.

  “Where the hell is he?” asked Margo.

  “Khan!” shouted Lamont. His voice was lost in the cr
owded canyon.

  “Trust me,” said Maddy, “he’s here.” She could feel it.

  “Show yourself!” Lamont yelled, turning in a slow circle. “I’m not waiting another hundred and fifty years!”

  The roar of a powerful engine echoed off the buildings. Suddenly a red double-decker tourist bus careened into the square, its engine whining. It jumped a divider and bulldozed a statue of some long-forgotten actor, sending chunks of bronze and granite flying into the air.

  “Lamont!” Margo shouted.

  Lamont spun around in time to see the bus heading straight for them, less than twenty yards away, accelerating fast. Lamont stared through the broad Plexiglas windshield. There was no driver. Margo wrapped her arms around Maddy and pulled her behind a wooden kiosk. Fifteen tons of steel hurtled through the intersection. Lamont stood his ground.

  “Lamont!” Margo screamed. “For God’s sake, run!” She pulled Maddy close and braced herself against the back of the flimsy shelter.

  Lamont didn’t move. He focused. The bus was just yards away, roaring like a locomotive. A split second later, a solid brick wall appeared across the width of the street. The bus rammed into the barrier with the force of an exploding bomb. The front end crumpled into a smoking heap. A second later, a blast of light illuminated the square.

  The wrecked bus was gone. It had transformed—into Shiwan Khan. He floated in a swirl of vapor, black hair waving, eyes blazing. He was dressed in a blue tunic and jeweled breastplate. His gold robe fanned out behind him. His body radiated heat and light, generating its own field of energy.

  “The Shadow lives!” said Khan. “With new talents!”

  The wall of bricks evaporated, transformed back into Lamont Cranston.

  “Invisibility is so last century,” said Lamont.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Khan. “All this changing and disappearing and pretending to be things that we’re not—exhausting!”

  “From here on,” said Lamont, “let’s just be ourselves!”

  “Indeed,” Khan replied.

  He unleashed a flurry of lightning bolts, shattering the pavement at Lamont’s feet. Warning shots meant to intimidate, not to kill. Not yet. Lamont knew that Khan was toying with him.

  Lamont thrust out his hand and unleashed a fireball. It stuck Khan in the chest, knocking him back. But it didn’t leave a mark on him. Didn’t even singe his tunic. He stepped forward again, eyes wide.

  Lamont and Khan circled in the center of the street, gathering their strength, biding their time. All around the crossroads, clusters of ragged citizens huddled in doorways, like spectators at the Colosseum.

  “Do you remember our days with the monks, Cranston?” said Khan. “Our boyhood competitions? Do you remember why I was always the stronger one? It’s because I came from pain. Because I knew what it was like to lose.” He looked around at the crowd. “At the hands of rabble like this, I lost everything!”

  Khan swept his arms out to his sides. On walls and rooftops all around Times Square, huge signs blinked to life for the first time in over a century, filling the space with a riot of iridescent colors.

  Khan flicked his fingers. All at once, the massive displays blasted away from their supports and tumbled to the streets in a shower of sparks and twisted metal. Screams rose from the crowd as people ran for cover. Lamont looked up just as a massive light tower came down on him, pinning his leg under a rusted metal strut. Maddy and Margo fell to the ground as a blinking display crushed the top of the kiosk. When Margo rolled to the side, she was directly in Khan’s line of sight. Khan’s mouth curled into a thin smile.

  “Miss Lane!” he called out. “I knew we’d meet again!” He turned his wrist in her direction. “Shall we finish our dance?”

  Margo rose off the ground, kicking and flailing, as if pulled by a rope.

  She felt tight pressure around her throat, and jolts of pain shot through her body.

  Her head rolled back. Lamont grimaced as he strained to pull his leg free.

  “Margo!” he shouted.

  “She’s strong, Cranston,” said Khan, as Margo dangled helplessly above the street. “Stronger than I thought! Maybe stronger than you!”

  Behind the crumpled kiosk, Maddy took a deep breath. She rose to her feet and spun out into the open. She was trembling with a mixture of fear and fury. She was not invisible now. She wanted to be seen.

  “Khan!” she screamed.

  As Khan turned toward Maddy, Margo dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. Maddy thrust her arm forward toward Khan. She did it without thinking—a reflex, buried deep. A loud crack echoed through the square. A blast of light shot out from her palm.

  A lightning bolt. Her first.

  The powerful charge hit Khan in the shoulder, sending him into a backward spin. Margo stared at Maddy, not believing what she was seeing. With a final heave, Lamont wrenched himself free of the metal beam. He looked up, stunned. Maddy looked down at her hand, as if it were part of another person.

  Khan recovered and rose above the debris, robe swirling, his fierce gaze turned on Maddy, the glow around his body intensifying. Lamont stepped between them.

  “Leave her alone!” he shouted. “She’s just a kid. She’s nothing to you!”

  “Nothing to me? Nothing to me?” roared Khan. “Cranston, I’m insulted. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize my own flesh and blood?”

  CHAPTER 93

  “HE’S LYING!” YELLS Lamont. “This is the kind of game he plays!”

  What the hell is happening? My palms are burning, but I’m not burned. My muscles are pulsing, but I’m not in pain. I feel strong and terrified at the same time. Out of nowhere, I have the power to fire lightning bolts from my hands. And now Shiwan Khan thinks I’m a long-lost relative? This is insane!

  “You chose the wrong side!” says Khan, looking right at me. Right through me.

  What’s he talking about? I feel pressure in my brain, like he’s trying to explode my skull from the inside. I can’t think. I can’t move. All I can see right now is Lamont in front of me, trying to protect me.

  “Don’t touch her!” Lamont screams at Khan. “This is between you and me. Like always!”

  I’m gasping, trying to catch my breath. Ten thousand years! That’s how long this battle has been boiling up. I’m just a little speck in that story.

  Khan is totally focused on Lamont now. I can feel the hate. I can almost smell it.

  “This is the last time you get in my way!” Khan roars back. His voice isn’t human. It sounds like it’s coming from a dark canyon, louder and deeper than any voice I’ve ever heard.

  Khan unleashes a lightning bolt at Lamont’s head. Lamont puts his arm out and deflects it with a fireball. Am I really seeing this? It’s right out of a Shadow novel—except it’s real. Nonfiction. Happening right in front of my eyes. And I’m in the middle of it. My heart is racing and I can’t get enough air. I’m scared for Lamont—scared that this could be the end for him.

  Khan raises both arms above his head and brings them down hard. This time lightning bolts shoot out of both hands. Lamont dodges one bolt but the second one hits him, knocking him to the ground. It stuns him for a second, but he gets back on his feet. Then he rushes at Khan, no fireballs now. Just his fists. He punches Khan with all he’s got. But his punch just bounces off. So Lamont tackles him, takes him to the ground. I can hear them grunting and struggling, like two bears in a cage. I hear the sound of bones cracking—but whose bones? Khan throws Lamont back like he’s tossing a doll.

  “Lamont!” I shout. I reach for his arm. But he waves me off.

  “Get away!” he yells. “Let me handle him.”

  There is no way that’s going to happen. I’ve come this far, and I need to finish it, one way or the other.

  “My fight too, remember?” I yell back at him.

  Then I turn toward Khan. It may be stupid, but I don’t care.

  “Do you hear me, you son of a bitch? I’m not going anywhere!” />
  Lamont stands up next to me so we’re shoulder to shoulder. I feel my energy flowing into him, like we’re one unit. One mind. One purpose. At the same instant, we push our hands out, palms forward. A ball of fire and lightning spins out in front of us, getting bigger and bigger. Khan throws a massive bolt at us.

  “Now!” Lamont shouts.

  We both whip our arms forward at the same time. The ball shoots forward like a rocket and hits Khan’s lightning bolt in midair, splitting it in two. It hits Khan right in the chest and he explodes in a huge ball of flame! The heat sears my skin. For a second, I’m totally blinded.

  Then—it’s over.

  When I open my eyes again, Khan is gone.

  All that’s left is a pile of gray ash on the pavement.

  It’s finished. Destroyed. Ashes to ashes.

  All around Times Square, I can see TinGrins creeping out of their hiding spots. One by one, they drop their rifles and start running for their lives. They’re on their own now. Good luck.

  Lamont reaches out and wraps his arms around me. He squeezes me tight and rocks me from side to side.

  “It’s finished,” I say. “It’s finally done. We did it. We did it together!”

  Then, suddenly, I feel sick.

  Lamont tenses up and pulls back. We both look up. In the center of the square, the pile of ash starts to spin. It gets thicker and thicker and starts to rise up off the ground. In two seconds, it’s an actual tornado. Flashing lights and scraps of metal are whipping all around us. The funnel rises up until it’s ten stories tall. The sky goes black.

  “Get down!” Margo is screaming from behind us. “Get down!” The wind is so loud, I can barely hear her.

  Lamont shoves me down behind a cement barrier and I wrap my arms around it.

  The twister lifts into the sky until there’s only a snaky coil touching the ground. At the top of the funnel, I can see blasts of lightning getting bigger and bigger, brighter and brighter. Suddenly, the whole sky explodes. The shock wave hits me—and everything goes black.