“I know,” she murmured. “Go ahead. Just … don’t let go of my hand. Straight … down the corridor.”
Gripping her wrist tightly, I raced back down the catwalk. Madeline, pressing my shirt to her wounded forehead with one hand and holding on to me with the other, staggered after me. I found the corridor, turned down it.
The part of the warehouse we were in consisted of abandoned, dust-filled offices. At the end, as Madeline had indicated, there was a black-painted window which was ajar. The lock on it had been broken, and a crowbar lay off to one side. I pushed the window open, then helped Madeline through the aperture and onto the metal grate outside. The fire-escape ladder, held aloft by a counterweight, led down into the small garden/patio behind Krowl’s brownstone.
There was a wail of approaching sirens.
“Damned if that doesn’t sound like the cavalry,” I said, taking Madeline’s elbow and guiding her down the rusted steel steps. “Our cup runneth over.”
“Garth,” she whispered in the same pain-filled voice.
“Good. He’ll be able to get you to a hospital fast.”
We reached the bottom, and I looked up, involuntarily flinching as I half-expected to see the flash of a gun from the open window. But it looked as if we were home free. Wherever the coven members were searching for us, it wasn’t in the corridor we’d come down. I started leading my rescuer toward a gate leading out to a side street.
Madeline held back, squeezing my hand hard. “Can’t let police … see me, Mongo.”
“Why not? Garth knows about you.”
“… Called anonymously,” Mad said, her voice barely audible behind a terrible curtain of pain and shock. “Garth doesn’t … know I’m here. They’ll have the coven. But if they … find me here, I’ll have … to testify in open court. It will ruin me, Mongo. You know that. I’ll … lose everything that means … anything to me.”
“Krowl and the other members will tell the police.”
“No. They won’t, Mongo. No matter what … happens, they won’t tell how you escaped. Occult … business.”
Of course they wouldn’t, I suddenly realized. And not only because it was “occult business.”
“Mad,” I said quietly, “we could have a problem here. The coven will have time to destroy their books of shadows. Without those personal records, I’m not sure what can be proved against them; without evidence, there’s just a bunch of guys in an empty building celebrating Halloween early. I’m sure they’ve got a lot of politicians and judges in their pockets; the coven could blackmail those people, if they have to. The DA may need you to corroborate my testimony before a grand jury. That crew has killed a number of men, ruined the lives of dozens of others, and tried to poison a little girl. And don’t forget that Esobus ran a blade across your forehead. Don’t you want to see them permanently put out of business?”
Madeline swallowed hard, sobbed. “Mongo, if I testify, everything about me will come out. I’ll be laughed out of the scientific community and never be taken seriously again. Teaching is my whole life. Please don’t take that away from me.”
It occurred to me that I was going to have legal problems if I tried to protect Madeline: I would have to perjure myself. But perjured was better than dead, and dead was what I would be if not for Madeline.
The sirens were very close now. “All right,” I said quietly. “But I have to get you to a hospital.”
“My car’s just down the street. Thank you, my friend.”
Chapter 20
I took Madeline to the nearest hospital, where she was immediately admitted through the Emergency Room. An intern cleaned and bandaged my shoulder, and even managed to find me a shirt left behind by some boy. Then I was allowed to sit with Madeline while the cross-shaped wound was washed, and pressure pads applied. The medical staff’s best plastic surgeon was called in to do the stitching. It was the only logical thing to do; but I knew that the best plastic surgeon in the world wasn’t going to be able to leave Madeline’s forehead free of a scar she’d carry with her for the rest of her life.
I could think of nothing to say to Madeline except a simple “Thank you.”
The surgeon indicated she’d be under the knife and needle for an hour or two. I told Madeline I’d stay close by, kissed her on the cheek and went out into the waiting room.
As with the sensory deprivation, there was none of the exhilaration I felt I should be experiencing after narrowly escaping being carved up and barbecued by the coven. What I did feel was a deep gratitude to Madeline for saving my life, sorrow and regret at the price she’d had to pay. Underlying it all was a profound sense of dissatisfaction at things left unfinished. But I knew there was one piece of business that had to be taken care of right away. I got up and went to a pay phone by the entrance.
Garth was still at the coven’s headquarters, but I convinced the station’s desk sergeant that my brother would want to talk to me right away. I was patched through to his car radio.
“Mongo! You all right? We got a call—”
“I know, Garth. I was there, but I’m all right.”
There was a pause, then: “Well? Where the hell are you now?”
“… Taking care of some business,” I said, feeling like The Fool in the tarot deck. Stepping off a cliff. Except that I was no innocent.
“How’d you get away?”
“Dwarf cunning,” I said, hating myself for the smart-ass lie, but thinking of the woman a few rooms away having her face sewn back together. “Listen; Sandor Peth’s dead, and you’ve got what’s left of the coven there—except for Esobus.” I swallowed hard, trying to rid myself of a sour, seaweed taste in my mouth. “Uh … you didn’t happen to pick up anyone in the street outside the building, did you?”
“No.” Now Garth’s voice was strained. “Tell me what happened.”
I did, omitting only Madeline’s role in helping me escape. I finished up by saying, “You’ll find all the evidence you need in the books of shadows they keep in their cubicles.”
“Sorry, Mongo,” Garth said tightly. “We didn’t find anything—and we probably couldn’t hang on to it if we had. Whoever called said the coven was about to kill you; it wasn’t exactly the kind of situation where I felt like waiting around for some judge to swear out a search warrant. We could conceivably be in trouble, if they want to press it.”
“Krowl and the others … weren’t dressed in ceremonial robes?”
“No robes, Mongo.”
They would have been consigned to the gas fire, along with the books of shadows and any other incriminating evidence in the coven’s possession. I felt sick.
“Well, you’ll just have to make do with my story. I’m telling you they’re behind the whole thing. That factory is the coven’s headquarters. What the hell did they say they were doing with a mini-crematorium in the center of the floor?”
“Hey, brother, I believe you. The point is that we don’t have any physical proof. Krowl swears that the complex was started as an adjunct to his Mystic Eye Institute, then left unfinished when he ran out of money.”
“Then what were they doing there?”
“As far as the law is concerned, it doesn’t matter what they were doing there. Krowl owns the place. Anyway, it would help if we could find the woman who called in. She probably knows a lot. You don’t have any idea who it was, do you?”
“No,” I lied. I was beginning to feel light-headed and nauseated again, and I knew the feeling had nothing to do with antirabies shots. “Like I said, you’ll just have to make do with my testimony.”
“Right now I’ll make do with just finding you. Where are you, Mongo? I’ll come around and pick you up.”
“I’ll be at the station house in a couple of hours.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. When Garth finally spoke again, his voice was hard and cold. “You’re holding out on me, Mongo. What the fuck do you think you’re up to?”
“I’ll talk to you later, Garth,”
I said, and hung up.
Feeling as if I were wrapped in a bale of wet cotton, I went to a canteen down a corridor from the Emergency Room and got a cup of coffee from a vending machine. I sat down, lighted a cigarette and stared down into the brown depths of the coffee. The steaming liquid reminded me of the hole I’d seen in the floor of my mind, and I recalled how I’d gone over and over the facts of the case in an attempt to keep from falling into that hole. Now, with the coven experience behind me, there were more elements to add. I was convinced that if I stared hard enough, mixed everything together and stirred hard enough, the rest of the answers would break free and float to the top, like clots of rancid cream.
The cigarette end burned my fingers. I stubbed the butt out in a standing ashtray while continuing to stare into the coffee, thinking. I was still staring when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Madeline. Her entire forehead was bandaged, but her lovely blue eyes were free of pain. To me, she still looked beautiful; she wouldn’t look so beautiful to others when the bandages were removed.
“Hello, babe,” I said softly. “Shouldn’t you at least be staying here overnight?”
Mad shook her head, and winced. “The blood made the wound look worse than it really is. I’m all stitched up, and the plastic surgeon says there won’t be too much of a scar.” She smiled and made a small curtsy. “I’m betting it will look sexy. How about getting me a cup of coffee?”
I brought her coffee from the machine, sat down across from her. “Thank you again for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome again. Now let’s forget about it, okay? Having you around is worth a little slice on the forehead. Remember what you said? We’re the only two people who have anything to say to each other at those boring faculty parties.”
“Why did you run the way you did, Mad? Didn’t you know Esobus was there?”
She grinned wryly and gently touched her bandaged forehead with her fingertips. “I knew; I guess I’m just a damn fool. Call it the curiosity of the scientist. I wanted to see who Esobus was.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
Madeline shook her head. “He was dressed in a crimson robe, like the others, with a hood over his head. He was just running out when I came up. He was tall—over six feet, I’d say. I didn’t see the knife until it was too late; it just kind of flashed out at me. His hand was big, and I think he was wearing a diamond ring on his index finger.”
“Mad, how did you know they had me? How did you know where I was?”
She blinked rapidly, and her eyes went slightly out of focus as she absently touched her cheek. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I received a telephone call. This voice—”
“Was it a strange voice? Distorted, like Esobus’?”
“Yes,” Madeline said, sounding confused. “How did you know?”
“It doesn’t make any difference. Go ahead.”
“The voice told me where you were,” Mad continued in a quiet, subdued tone. “It said that the coven planned to kill you. I was told to call the police right away, and even told where the window would be open. When I called Garth, I was told he wasn’t there. The police said I’d have to give my name before they’d listen seriously to anything I had to say. I gave them the information and told them it was a life-and-death emergency, but I just couldn’t give my name. Then I panicked and came myself.” She paused and sipped at her coffee. “Do you have any idea who might have called?”
“It was the same person you heard leading the ceremony tonight,” I said tightly. “Esobus.”
“The man who slashed me?”
I slowly nodded, still staring down into the coffee. Now my stomach was tying itself into knots of nervous tension. At last, one more answer had come boiling up from the mixture of questions in my mind; the face of this one was leering and obscene.
“Mad,” I said, looking up at her, “I owe you my life, so I really don’t have any right to ask you for more. But I will anyway. If you’ll help me, I think I may be able to clear this whole matter up.”
“You mean you think you can find Esobus?”
“Maybe,” I said, pushing my cold coffee to one side. “I just may be able to produce physical evidence that will pin murder and extortion on those happy coven brothers.” I paused, added, “The police are going to need it; there was nothing worth anything left in the coven headquarters by the time Garth got there.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mad said, lowering her gaze. “Did you … tell Garth about me?”
“No, and I don’t plan to. If you’ll help me, there won’t be any need.”
“You know I’ll do anything I can, Mongo—as long as I don’t get any publicity.”
“I want you to go for a ride with Garth and me. Garth already knows about your involvement with the occult, so that won’t be a problem. You’ll eventually have to make up a story about what happened to your forehead, so it may as well be sooner as later.” I lighted a cigarette, squinted against the smoke. I suddenly felt very tired. “There’s another woman I’d like to ask to come along. I’ll need her expertise, as well as yours.”
Mad’s blue eyes clouded, and she frowned. “I don’t know, Mongo,” she said hesitantly. “My career is so important to me. Lately, I’ve begun to regret that I ever became involved with the occult.”
“I know. But this woman’s a witch to begin with—and she’s a friend of mine. You have my word that she’ll keep your secret.”
Mad gave a slight toss of her head, then brushed her silver hair back and smiled easily. “Your word’s good enough for me. Where are we going, and what do you plan to do?”
“Let’s wait on that until I get everything absolutely straight in my own head. When will you feel up to going out?”
Mad shrugged. “I’m ready to go now, if it will clear this business up once and for all.”
“Tomorrow morning,” I said. I rose, took Mad’s arm and helped her to her feet. “If you change your mind and want to wait a few days, let me know.”
“All right. But I won’t. What time?”
“I have to check with Garth and the other woman, but let’s say eleven.”
“Eleven it is.”
I walked Madeline to her car and drove her home. Later, I called Garth and April. My stomach wouldn’t stop churning.
The city was aglow with copper light, and the late-morning air was oppressively thick, dirty and hot. Black-bottomed clouds had been scudding low across the sky for hours, phantom freighters impatient to unload their wet cargo. It was going to rain soon—and hard.
Despite the impending downpour, no one had suggested that we put off the trip. Events now seemed to be moving with a momentum of their own. Garth, Madeline and April seemed to sense that; I knew it. To put off this journey would only postpone the inevitable, and it was best to get it out of the way as soon as possible. That was what I kept telling myself. I was, after all, responsible for whatever was going to happen, and at the moment I was the only one who carried the burden of knowing just how ugly was the face of the secret we hunted.
The tires on Garth’s car whined as we went down the entrance ramp and entered the maw of the Lincoln Tunnel. There’d been little conversation; everyone was waiting impatiently for me to explain what we were supposed to be doing, and the atmosphere inside the car was tense. Garth was driving his Pontiac, and Madeline sat with him in the front, staring moodily out the side window. April sat in the back with me, holding tightly to my hand. Her palm was wet and clammy. I was slouched down in the seat, wishing I were even smaller than I was. I puffed mechanically on a cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side vent.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Doctor?” Garth said quietly to the woman sitting next to him.
“Yes, thank you,” Madeline said evenly. “I’m just paying for my own stupidity. If I hadn’t been so impatient and yanked on the chart, the rack wouldn’t have fallen on me.”
Garth inclined his head back. �
��Are you all right, Mongo?” he asked with heavy sarcasm. “Are you alive, Mongo?” Anger and hurt hummed in his voice.
“I’m alive.”
“You’re being very mysterious, brother, even for you.”
“Lay off for a bit, will you, Garth?”
“Come on, Mongo!” Garth snapped. “The party’s under way, and you’re the host. It’s time you told us where we’re going, and why we’re going.”
We passed out of the tunnel, into New Jersey. I flicked my cigarette out the window and straightened up in the seat. I’d run out of time. “We’re going to Philadelphia to look for Frank Marlowe’s book of shadows.”
“What the hell?” Garth said, accidentally hitting the brake and almost sending us into a skid. Madeline had turned in her seat and, like April, was staring at me with astonishment. Garth started to pull over to the shoulder of the road.
“Keep going, brother,” I said curtly. “At the moment, I’ll feel better if we’re moving.”
“Where in Philadelphia?” Garth asked, accelerating up past the speed limit and moving into the passing lane. The anger in his voice had been replaced by curiosity.
“To April’s house—with her permission, of course.”
April gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “Robert? I didn’t take Frank’s book of shadows!”
“Of course you didn’t,” I said to April, squeezing her hand. “I think your former husband put his book—or at least, the bulk of it—in your attic. That’s what we’re looking for.”
“Explain, brother,” Garth said quietly.
“Frank Marlowe wasn’t working on a ‘book of shadows’ in the witchcraft sense of the term. This was his big book—the one he’d always wanted to do. And it would have been big; maybe it still will be. A coven: witchcraft, murder, extortion and sex—it had everything, up to and including some very big names in show business and politics. That was his book of shadows; he was probably even going to call it that. He’d been working on it from the first day he became involved with the coven.”
An Affair of Sorcerers Page 28