License Invoked ts-5

by Robert Robert

  "I'll have whatever she's having."

  "All right, sir," the bartender said, in a musical voice. "One Hurricane, coming up."

  Unhesitatingly, she moved to an array of bottles on the back counter, and started to mix the drink. Ken noticed she kept a close eye on him, either directly or in the mirror on the wall. Long experience enabled her to prepare his order and serve it without looking at it, but not missing an ingredient or spilling a drop. The tall glass she set down in front of him was filled to the brim with Day-Glo red liquid and had a toothpick with a cherry and a slice of orange in it. Ken blanched, but he put ten dollars down on the bar and pushed it toward the server. He hated sweet drinks. The bartender left him his change, still wearing a warning expression. Robbie was watching him now, so he took a good sip, and smiled at her.

  "Are you okay?" he asked. "You took off out of there so quickly."

  "I got fired, remember?" Robbie said, bitterly. She drained her glass and held up her finger for another one. With a glance at Ken to make sure he was watching, the bartender poured another Hurricane and set it down in front of the young woman. "What did I have to stay around for?"

  Ken almost said, "to see the fireworks." He patted her on the shoulder.

  "You didn't have to take off like that. Nigel's not such a bad guy. He knows you're a stranger in this city. He was going to arrange for you to get home again. He was going to exchange your ticket."

  "He was?" Robbie asked, amazed.

  "Yeah! Swear to God," Ken said, hoping she wouldn't notice that he stuck his hand into his pocket so he could cross his fingers. No sense in giving the Other Side anything it could use against him. He might practice black magic, but he was honest about it.

  "Oh, Ken," Robbie said. Her hazel eyes, slightly rimmed with red, fixed on him. They filled with tears. "You're so nice."

  "I'm your friend," he said. Robbie drained her glass in a few gulps. This time Ken signaled for the next one. "Come on, everybody gets fired a few times in their life. There's more bothering you than that. You want to tell me about it?"

  "It's nothing," Robbie said, hunching over her drink.

  "It's Preston, isn't it?" Ken said gently, patting her wrist in a fatherly way. Robbie nodded. "Oh, come on, you could do better than him."

  "No, I couldn't," Robbie muttered. "He's the one I want. No offense, Ken, because you're really a great guy." She regarded him blearily. "And you're good-looking, too. But Lloyd's the sexiest man I've ever seen. I feel so... It's like lightning running through..." She began again, blushing more than ever. "When I'm near him, I just want to throw myself at him. But I can't."

  "And he'd like you, too, if it wasn't for... Fionna." Ken put all the scorn he could into the name, and was pleased to see the young woman straighten her spine and glare at nothing.

  "Oh, yes," she said, decidedly. "I wish the bitch would fall on her face."

  "Maybe she will. Have another drink?" Ken said. They had the back corner of the bar to themselves. The bartender had other customers to look after, and no one could hear them over the combined noise from the speakers. "C'mon, you can tell me all about it."

  * * *

  The French Quarter seemed more crowded that late Saturday afternoon than London during the legendary January sales. Boo and Liz struggled through knots of happy people with stacks of beer cups, and skirted by acrobats performing in the middle of pavements, psychic palm or tarot readers speaking intently to their clients at little tables under beach umbrellas, and artists painting or sketching in chairs set against walls or fences where their wares were displayed. Countless tourists clogged the streets, drinking, taking pictures of one another, diving into bars and shops, and emerging with plastic cups full of beer and armloads of sparkling plastic beads. As the sun tipped westward, the neon on the buildings looked more garish and threatening.

  Everywhere, Boo reached out to tap a local man or woman on the arm and chatted for a moment before bringing out the photo of Robbie. No one could remember having seen her. All of them promised they'd keep watch, but they didn't hold out a lot of hope. Liz's heart sank at the enormity of their task. It wasn't going to be as easy to find an ordinary-looking woman in blue jeans and a T-shirt on her own as it had been to locate Fee with her short green hair and personal entourage. Even that search hadn't been simple. If it hadn't been for Boo-Boo and his connections... which weren't doing them a lot of good just then. His friends were observant, but they'd have to be superheroes to pick out one nondescript stranger in this scrimmage.

  They came away from speaking with a very limber Jamaican man in Jackson Square who was trying to fit himself inside a small glass box.

  "We coulda just missed her, or she's on the move," Boo-Boo said, putting the photo into his pocket as they left the square. "Robbie's a stranger in town. I'd say she could be anywhere, but there aren't too many places that she'd feel comfortable about goin' to if she was in trouble."

  "The hotel," Liz said, as a thought struck her. "Perhaps she just went back there. She might want to go directly to the airport or the bus station. We should find out if she's taken her luggage."

  Boo raised his fair eyebrows. "Maybe that ought to've been our first stop. I wasn't even thinkin' when we came running' out of the Superdome." He looked so chagrined that Liz felt sorry for him.

  "To tell you the truth," Liz said, "neither was I. That can't be helped now." Boo-Boo recovered quickly, and gave her his brilliant smile. They were equals again. Partners. A small benefit to come out of this awful mission. Only, he had to remember that she was in charge.

  * * *

  The tall, blond manager of the Royal Sonesta Hotel came bustling out to greet the two agents waiting at the lobby desk at the summons of one of the uniformed clerks.

  "Does one of our guests need help?" he asked in a discreet undertone as soon as he reached them. "Does... she need help?"

  "Not she," Liz said, "but one of her employees. Ms. Unterburger. Roberta Unterburger."

  The manager and the attractive clerk behind the desk frowned.

  "I'm not certain I recall her," the clerk said.

  "She's kind of an everyday-looking person," Boo explained, producing the photograph. "It's important that we find her pretty quickly."

  "She might be ill," Liz explained, hoping they wouldn't ask for details.

  "Well, we'll be happy to call a doctor if she needs one," the manager said, friendly and ready to help.

  "It's a serious condition," Liz said hastily, thinking of the poor doctor who might encounter a wild magical talent without warning.

  "We have some fine medical facilities in this town," the manager said. "Why, Tulane Univ—"

  "Can we check her room?" Boo-Boo asked. "As I recall, she's sharin' room 2153 with another woman who works for Ms. Kenmare. She might have come in without anyone noticin' her. She's kind of a shy young lady."

  "Certainly," the manager said. He disappeared into his office and emerged with a set of passkeys. "Just in case she's collapsed."

  Liz shot a look at her associate. They couldn't be that lucky to find Robbie present and unconscious.

  They stopped a maid in the hallway to ask if anyone was in room 2153. The woman shook her head. The manager knocked on the door. When no one answered, he used his passkey to open the room. Liz was relieved to see the ordinary clutter of two women sharing temporary living quarters. Heaps of garments stood on the bed and the dresser. The luggage piled in the closet seemed of sufficient quantity for two. Liz checked the name tags. Some of them belonged to Robbie. Liz opened them, and found them empty. Thank heavens, the girl hadn't packed up her bags and disappeared out of town. Not yet.

  The manager was watching with keen interest as the two agents inspected the room. Liz finally had to admit there wasn't a single clue that would tell them where Robbie would go if she felt troubled.

  "I think we've learned what we can," she said. "Thank you for your assistance."

  "Always happy to be of service to our guests," the manage
r said, with a bow, but Liz knew he was thinking of Fionna.

  "We need to get Ms. Robbie to a specialist. Just let us know if she comes back here." Boo grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the nightstand, and scribbled his cell telephone number on it. He handed the slip to the manager. "We shouldn't let her leave on her own. It could be very serious. If you'll just have her call us the moment she shows up."

  "I'd be happy to," the manager said, tucking the piece of paper into his breast pocket. "You can count on us."

  "I never doubted it," Boo said.

  Boo left the same message and his telephone number with the doorman.

  "That's about all we can do here," he told Liz. "Should we keep on searchin'?"

  "The concert isn't long from now," Liz pointed out, checking her watch. "We'd better go back to the Superdome. We know the target is Fee. We ought to be there to protect her."

  "And hope there aren't any fresh booby traps waitin' for us when we get there," Boo said, raising a hand for a taxi.

  * * *

  Feeling considerably more comfortable under the influence of alcohol and Ken's friendly overtures, Robbie reeled off into a catalogue of adolescent complaints about Fionna. Her looks, her habits, her money and fame were all reprehensible and unfair. How dare she be tall and beautiful and rich and talented? What right did she have to get all those clothes handed to her as though she was some kind of princess or something? What could fate have been thinking, sending all those millions of people to swoon at her feet? Especially a man like Lloyd, who ought to see past the makeup and the phony exterior? Didn't he know that that green hair was dyed?

  Ken nodded and smiled at the right places, all the while keeping one eye on the clock. He had to get her back into the Superdome, reconnect with the machinery somehow and get it turned on and running, and avoid getting thrown out until he caused the chaos he had been hired to cause. Mr. Kingston had a lot at stake, and he wasn't going to take any excuses if Ken failed. He ought to get her moving soon. Not yet, he thought, but soon. She was still too skittish to react the way he wanted her to. In the meantime, he needed to keep her talking.

  "If Fionna was out of the way, then he'd notice you. You're..." Ken swallowed, trying to think of a compliment. He had never really studied her before as a person. He hadn't thought much about her except how easily she responded to suggestion and magical manipulation. Robbie didn't inspire poetry, or even much thought beyond plain existence. She wasn't exactly pretty. Her voice was unremarkable. She didn't exude sexuality or sensuousness like Fionna did. "... You're smart. You do everything right. I've noticed that about you. You study your cues, and your timing is usually exactly right on. You've got a great memory. That's really special."

  "Yeah," Robbie said, her voice breaking. "I'm efficient. Big deal. Except I left all my stuff hooked up when I left. The board is still hot, and all the switches are armed. Can you believe it? Normally I turn everything off. I'm so stupid! It's like Dublin all over again, when that poor man got knocked out during that rehearsal." Her shoulders heaved. Ken was afraid she was going to cry. The last thing he needed was an emotional outburst, and he didn't want her mouthing off about that nosy guy in Dublin. That had been a mistake. If it was ever connected to him, he was in big trouble. You never knew who was listening to you. Robbie started to cry, her shoulders heaving in deep sobs. He had to control her. He put his hand onto her wrist and squeezed sympathetically.

  A tingle crossed between them, like a spark of static electricity.

  Ken jumped up with surprise, then sat down again, trying not to show his eagerness. Robbie was still chock full of magical energy coming off the transmitter from the SATN-TV satellite feed. The Law of Contagion was still in force! She'd made the connection, and she was still channeling power. Maybe he could make the situation work without having to go back to the Superdome.

  He glanced out the door to make sure the two agents weren't in sight. They could queer the whole thing if they turned up unexpectedly. Mr. Kingston had promised to do something about them, but he hadn't said what or when. In the meantime, the bar was wide open to the public. Anyone who came in could see them. Did he have any of the materials he needed for an obfuscation charm? He started feeling in his pockets. He couldn't improvise. Ken knew he wasn't much of a natural magician. He thought of himself more as a technical operator.

  Robbie was talking, and looking at him as if she expected a response to what she was saying. Ken nodded whenever Robbie paused for breath. He'd only hope Ms. Mayfield and her grubby friend would keep chasing their tails until he'd managed to do what he needed to.

  "Under the circumstances, I understand how you left everything running," Ken said, inwardly exalting. "It was pretty intense back there. It won't do any harm. If no one touches anything, it will all still be intact later. Come on, cheer up. Hmm?" He gave her a hopeful smile and chucked her under the chin. The tap was still open on the power feed from SATN. By 7:30 tonight, the full force of their stored-up energy would be coming down those transmission lines and trickling into the chair at Robbie's station, ready to spread out into the full arena. He eyed the girl speculatively. He had an idea. It was possible. It could work. He toyed with his glass, wondering how to begin.

  Robbie watched his fingers. Her eyes looked solemn as an owl's behind her thick glasses.

  "You have really long fingernails," she announced. "I think that's kind of creepy in a guy. It makes me think of that scene from Rosemary's Baby. Those scratches on her back." She hiccuped. "I'm sorry. I must be getting really drunk. I would never say something like that normally."

  "It's all right," Ken said, somewhat put out by the comparison. The blather that those two agents had been making about Robbie being a sensitive was more true than they'd ever know. He wondered if she could smell the brimstone incense he burned at home, and whether it was affecting her perceptions. "You know, you're a really nice person, Robbie."

  She hiccuped. "Creak, creak, creak," Robbie said suddenly, tilting her head and staring at the ceiling. "Do you hear that? It sounds like a rocking chair." Ken glanced up. He didn't hear anything. Whatever she was tuned into, it made him uncomfortable. Hastily, he brought the subject back on track.

  "You know," he said, "Lloyd's such a perfectionist. If Fee made a total fool of herself, like screwing up the concert, he'd reject her."

  "You think so?" Robbie asked.

  "I'm sure of it," he said almost casually, making a spinning gesture. "Throw her out flat on her tush. If she was out of the way, he'd go crazy for you."

  A crafty expression appeared on her face. He made a note of it as he reached into his pocket for a small package he kept there. When the bartender brought the next installment of drinks, Ken slipped a tablet of LSD into Robbie's.

  "Come on," he said. "Let's drink to watching Fionna fall on her face."

  Chapter 16

  "Where the hell have you two been?" Fee snarled as Liz and Boo-Boo came into the dressing room. "There's only minutes left before the concert starts!"

  "We know it," that annoying Elizabeth Mayfield said, in that maddeningly calm voice of hers. How could she and Fee have been such close friends once? "We're here now."

  Fionna paced up and down, smoking cigarette after cigarette. The tight, green dress caused the wires sewn into it to rub against her skin. The itch made her frantic. She wanted to tear the dress off and run naked out of the place. Hmmm, she thought, that might make good headlines. Then she dismissed the idea. The last thing she wanted to do right now was draw extra attention to herself. The monsters could come out of nowhere and get her. What a comedown! New Orleans ought to have been the saving of her. Instead, she was more uncertain of herself than ever. New evils were popping up all over, ones she'd never heard of before, and people were walking out on her all over the place. Even her assigned minders had gone on a tour of the town!

  She took a long drag at her cigarette and breathed out twin plumes of smoke at the agents like a dragon in pre-toast mode. "You're supposed to
be protecting me!"

  "We were looking for Ms. Robbie," Boo-Boo said, calmly, "but we're here now. You look very nice, ma'am. The dress matches your hair just exactly."

  Seeing nothing but a blandly pleasant face, Fionna threw up her hands and started pacing again. Lloyd came to loom over them, expressionless as a golem. The security man was clad in black turtleneck and slacks, topped off with a charcoal jacket that set off his broad shoulders and concealed who knew what else. He looked devastatingly effective, very masculine and completely dishy. Elizabeth understood what attracted Fee to the man.

  "Has everything been going all right?" Liz asked Lloyd.

  He nodded. Liz admired his ability to be a total professional when the occasion called for it. Now that he had accepted the situation, he was willing to be cooperative. "Show's ready to go. I haven't let her out of my sight, not even in the toilets. Did you find the silly woman?"

  "No," Liz sighed. "We lost the trail."

  Lloyd frowned. "Shouldn't you still be looking?"

  Liz shook her head. "Our place is with Fee. If there's going to be another attack, we need to be right here with her, not out looking for Robbie." Lloyd nodded curtly. He didn't fuss over what couldn't be helped.

  "That makes sense." He flipped open a radio and spoke into it. "No sign of her, Mr. Lemoine."

  The mild voice of the Superdome master control operator came from the small speaker. "I'll let Security know, Mr. Preston. Everybody's on alert."

  Lloyd flipped the unit shut. "If she shows her face, she's ours."

  Fionna lit another cigarette off the first one, dropped the stub and ground it into the tiles with a silver-lame-stacked-heel shoe.

  "I hate the waitin'," she said. "I've always hated it."

  Fitz stood by the wall of the dressing room with sewing supplies at the ready in case Fionna's dress needed last minute repairs. He regarded Boo-Boo and Liz with an open-eyed stare of wonder blended copiously with fear. Liz gave him a smile meant to be reassuring. His hand groped in a pocket. Liz, with every sense tuned to its highest chord, sensed a small touch of magic within the cloth, probably a good luck charm for protection against the unknown.