An Affair Of Sorcerers m-3

by George C. Chesbro

  Holding my thumb, I struggled to my feet once again and stood over Peth. I wanted to see his teeth on the floor; I reared back, ready to smash the toe of my shoe into his mouth. Suddenly the muscles in my stomach contracted with the worst pain I'd known yet. I groaned and doubled over with pain, then stumbled backward until I came up against the wall. I sat down hard, clutching at my stomach and fighting off spasms of nausea.

  Peth, still rolled up in a fetal position with his hands in his crotch, looked over at me and cackled insanely. "You're a dead man," he wheezed, his breath whistling in his lungs.

  "What's wrong with the girl, Peth?" I was doing a little wheezing of my own. We were two sidelined cripples, glaring at each other across an abyss of agony and hatred.

  "What girl is that, dwarf?" His words triggered a new spasm of insane, high-pitched laughter. "What girl? Oh, you are a dead dwarf!"

  I stared into the leering face, desperately wanting to kick at it and keep kicking until the laughter had stopped and he'd told me what I wanted to know. But I knew that wasn't the way the scene would play. I was helpless; Peth could-and would-kill me as soon as he recovered. I had to get out of the office.

  I finally managed to struggle to my feet and wobble out the door, leaving Peth rolling on the filthy floor in his three-piece suit. He was giggling hysterically. "What girl?" he kept repeating in his high-pitched whine. "Oh, man, you're one dead fucking dwarf!"

  I couldn't stand straight. Sliding against the wall, I made it around a corner, then hunched down on the floor until the spasms of pain and nausea passed. I was sweating heavily, and it was ten minutes before I could straighten up. All the while I could hear Peth cackling in his office down the hall. I walked shakily down a rickety stairway to the street, then went to a phone booth on the corner of 42nd and Broadway. I was suffering a bad case of blurred tunnel vision, but I was determined not to waste time worrying about symptoms. I had to do what I had to do, and what would be would be.

  Garth had just come in. "Hey, brother," he said, real anger humming in his voice, "why didn't you tell me you'd been bitten by a rabid bat? For Christ's sake, why did I have to hear it from the doctor who treated you?"

  "Garth … I need you."

  "What's the matter, Mongo?" he asked tensely. "Where are you?"

  "Corner of Forty-second and Broadway. I've got someone I think has the information we need."

  "Who?"

  "Sandor Peth; Harley Davidson's manager."

  Garth's voice was thick with excitement and tension. "What makes you think he knows anything?"

  "… Witch," I managed to say. "Knows about Daniel. Garth, he's a crazy. We're going … to have to beat it out of him. That's why I need you. Can't. . handle it by myself."

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Then: "Mongo, did you try to do a physical number on this guy?"

  "Fat chance; I'm so weak I can hardly fucking walk. You've got to get over here."

  "Stop talking crazy, Mongo," Garth said quietly but firmly.

  "Garth, there's no time!" I shouted into the receiver. "If you won't help me beat it out of him, I'll have to go back up there and try again myself!"

  "Hold it!" Garth commanded sharply, as if sensing that I was about to hang up. "Just listen to me! Don't panic; it's not like you."

  "Garth," I mumbled, screwing my eyes shut against an awful dizziness that threatened to sweep me away with it. "Kathy's on the verge of dying. What else can I do?"

  "It's what you've already done that worries me," my brother said evenly. "Let's hope you haven't given this Peth cause to swear out a warrant on you."

  "He knows I know he's involved with that coven. He won't make any noises to the police."

  "You hope he won't. If he does, you're going to be hung up good. You wait right there; I'll come over and pick you up. We'll put a little heat on Peth together. But no rough stuff. You wait for me. Got it?"

  "Yeah," I said after a pause. I really had no choice. "Hurry it up, will you?"

  "I'll be there in a few minutes. Sit tight."

  I hung up, took a few deep breaths to settle my nerves and stomach, then went fishing in my pockets for another dime. I only had a nickel. Getting change in Manhattan is one of the most difficult feats known to man, and the newsstand on the corner was inexplicably shuttered. I hit four porno movies before I found a cashier who took pity on me and gave me change for a dollar. Armed with the precious coins, I went back to the phone booth and called the Medical Center.

  "Reception."

  "What's Kathy Marlowe's condition?"

  "Uh. . may I ask who this is?"

  That was a new wrinkle, a little frightening. "Dr. Robert Frederickson," I said tightly.

  "Just a moment, Dr. Frederickson," the woman said. There was an odd ring to her voice that made my stomach contract painfully with anxiety. "There's someone here who wants to speak with you."

  I waited, breathing shallowly and tapping my fist impatiently against the glass. A few moments later April came on the line. She was crying, and for one terrible moment I feared I was about to get the dreaded news that Kathy was dead. But then I realized that she was crying with happiness, and her weeping was punctuated with joyous laughter.

  "Robert!" April cried. "We've all been waiting for you to call! Dr. Greene says he thinks Kathy's going to be all right!"

  Someone was banging a gong inside my skull again, and there were tears in my eyes. "Have they found out what's wrong with her?"

  "Yes!"

  "How? What's wrong with her?"

  "I don't know all the details, Robert. Who cares? Just get over here, will you? I want to hug you!"

  Garth pulled up just as I was flagging down a cab. I got into his car, told him the news, and we drove off toward the Medical Center.

  Garth kept asking questions, which I fended off. At the moment, I was too tense and tired to talk; but in that small part of me that wasn't totally drained, I felt elated. If Kathy was going to live, we were all home free. Almost. The sky had grown overcast, and the city was awash in a dull bronze glow. I kept telling myself that the poor light was the reason I didn't seem to be able to see too well.

  Chapter 15

  True to her word, a beaming April grabbed me as I walked into Kathy's room. She joyfully mauled me, then started on Garth.

  "Where's Kathy?" I asked, nodding toward the empty bed.

  "They have her a floor below, in a special-treatment center," April said, wiping away tears of happiness. "Dr. Greene said something about lithium poisoning. The point is that they can clean the poison out of her body now. He's convinced she's strong enough to survive." She paused, put a hand to her mouth and hiccuped, then laughed and hugged me again. "You saved her life twice, Robert. First from the fire in the apartment, and then when you brought Esteban to her."

  "Where's Esteban now?"

  "He's gone with Senator Younger and Linda to their hotel suite; he can work with Linda there."

  "What about Daniel?"

  April's eyes clouded for a moment and she shook her head. "I don't know where my brother is," she said distantly. "I haven't heard anything from him since he was here last." She sighed, brightened. "But that's not unusual for him. God, I can hardly believe that Kathy's going to be all right!"

  I accepted April's kiss on the mouth, and felt a thrill shudder through my body as I kissed her back. I caught Garth watching us, a bemused smile on his face. I flushed, cleared my throat and looked away. Garth knew.

  Joshua Greene emerged from the elevator at the end of the hall, saw us and fairly skipped down the corridor. His dark eyes and white, even teeth shone in his ebony flesh. "Good news, huh?" he asked, grinning broadly.

  "To say the least," I replied. "Is Kathy. . really going to be all right?"

  Joshua nodded. "She'd been poisoned with a massive dose of lithium. Lithium occurs naturally in the body, and it's hard to trace without a specific test for it. She should be regaining consciousness soon."

  "A nice p
iece of medical detective work, Doctor," Garth said admiringly. "We all thank you."

  "I'm afraid we don't deserve the credit," Joshua said thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, Officer, I'm glad you're here. There's something I'd like you all to hear."

  The doctor led us down a side corridor to a small office. Garth, April and I went in, and Joshua closed the door behind us. "We'd have discovered the lithium eventually," Joshua continued, "but perhaps not in time. The information that saved Kathy's life came to us in a tape recording. That's what I want you to listen to."

  Joshua opened a drawer and took out a small tape cassette, which he placed on a playback machine he'd already set up. There was about fifteen seconds of silence; then a voice began speaking. The voice was eerily distorted into a metallic, wailing tone, a kind of electronic falsetto which made it impossible even to tell whether the speaker was a man or a woman. The voice quickly described what had been done to Kathy: a large dose of lithium injected anally so that no needle mark would show. The approximate dosage was given, and then the tape abruptly went silent.

  "That's it," Joshua said, shutting off the machine. He ejected the cassette and handed it to Garth.

  "How did you get the tape, Doctor?" Garth asked, putting the cassette in his pocket.

  "It came this morning, by Special Delivery. I'm sorry if I've ruined any fingerprints on it."

  Garth shook his head. "I doubt there would be any fingerprints on it to begin with. Whoever sent this is too clever to leave obvious tracks."

  We all stood in stunned silence for a few moments. It was Garth who finally broke the silence.

  "Does the voice on the tape mean anything to you, Mrs. Marlowe?"

  April slowly shook her head. "No," she said softly. "It sounds like some kind of machine."

  "It means that someone in Esobus' coven got cold feet," I said.

  "I'll take Kathy away from here," April said with a heavy sigh. "We'll go someplace where no one can ever hurt her again."

  "We'll get whoever is responsible, Mrs. Marlowe," Garth said tautly. "We don't want any other little girls to be hurt." He turned to me. "It looks like we have you to thank for smoking out whoever made this tape."

  "Maybe we should be thanking Daniel," I heard myself saying. I was distracted by all the new questions raised by the recording. "Then again, this tape may have been sent for an altogether different reason."

  Joshua cleared his throat. "Excuse me, but I must get back to Kathy now. Mongo, don't forget to come in for your shot tomorrow."

  "Thank you, Doctor," Garth said as the thin black man walked from the room.

  April turned to me and took my hand. "Now, at least, you can rest and take care of yourself."

  "And I'll take you home," Garth added, putting one of his large, strong hands on my shoulder.

  "Hey," I said, pulling away and almost falling over. "I've still got a client."

  Garth frowned. "What the hell-? Who?"

  "Kathy," I said evenly. "She gave me all the money she had to find her father's book of shadows. I figure I haven't earned my fee yet."

  Garth walked me out of the hospital. "You know," he said wryly, "that remark about the girl giving you all her worldly goods in order to help her father sounds like the punch line from a Christmas story."

  "Yeah. I'm a sentimentalist."

  "You want a beer?"

  "Not really." The excitement surrounding Kathy's pending recovery and the strange tape recording had made me temporarily forget my aches and pains. Now they all came back; I felt as if I were collapsing in on myself. My thumb and stomach were beating an excruciatingly painful rhythm, in unison. "Christ, Garth, I'm tired. I think I'll go home and sleep for a week." "That sounds like a remarkably intelligent statement, coming from you. What are you going to do when you wake up?"

  "You know the answer to that."

  He grunted. "I do. That's why I want to talk. Come on. You should eat something, anyway. Try to stay awake long enough for a little conversation."

  We walked two blocks to a diner, where we sat in a back booth. Garth ordered two club sandwiches and coffee, while I settled for poached eggs and tea. Garth seemed unusually thoughtful.

  "I think you're right about the tape," he said at last. "Someone in the group had second thoughts."

  "Sure. The question is-who?"

  "You've been ahead of us on this thing from the beginning, Mongo. Now I guarantee you're going to see a little more action from the Police Department. This tape is the first real evidence we've had that a crime was committed."

  "That's profoundly debatable; I just haven't had time to jack you guys up."

  Garth smiled thinly. "Let's assume you did flush someone out. Who would it be?"

  "Christ, Garth, I don't know. And I'm too sick and tired to think about it now."

  "Who have you been talking to?"

  "You know who I've been talking to," I said with a shrug that caused a painful jolt in my stomach. "I'm certain Peth is in this up to his triple chins, and that's who I plan to start working on when I feel stronger."

  Garth shook his head. "Leave Peth alone. Let us handle him. We'll put a tail on him and see which way he crawls. At the moment, all we have is the fact that he mentioned Daniel."

  "He attacked me."

  "That too. But I don't want you stomping around and messing things up."

  "Hey, brother; Peth's the only real lead I've got, and I'm the guy who found him. I don't know who Daniel's contacted, and I'm not likely to find out."

  Garth nodded. He finished his first sandwich and started on the second. "We're going to be looking for Crandall, too" he said around a mouthful of sandwich. He reached across the table and punched me lightly on the arm. "Don't you think you've had enough?"

  "For a few days; until I feel better, and the doctor tells me I'm out of danger from the rabies. But then, like I told you, I've got a client." I lifted my throbbing, bandaged thumb and waggled it at him. "I've taken a personal interest in this case."

  "You take a personal interest in every case. Have you got any other candidates besides Peth?"

  "Sure. Krowl could know something-in fact, I'd bet a year's salary on it. But he's not going to crack easily."

  Garth stared into his coffee for a long time, then pushed the remaining half of the second sandwich aside. "Krowl's going to have some explaining to do for me," he said at last.

  "Meaning what?"

  Garth looked up at me and smiled crookedly. "In honor of your corny Christmas story, I'm going to give you a little gift: information." He laughed when I made a gesture of mock astonishment. "Try not to have a stroke. I got a call from one of the men who searched that rathole where your friend died. As a matter of fact, he called me just before you did. Have you been wondering what Davidson did with all the money he earned while he was on top?"

  "The question occurred to me."

  "They found something interesting in Davidson's clothes," he said. "It was a will; meaningless, because he died without any assets-at least, none that we've been able to find. Apparently he was too far gone to realize that."

  "What did the will say?" I asked, leaning forward.

  "He was leaving everything he thought he had to an outfit calling itself the Mystic Eye Institute. Now, I just happen to know that Mystic Eye is a group headed by our mutual friend John Krowl."

  I fell asleep in the car on my way back to my apartment, and Garth had to shake me awake when we arrived. I got out and made it up to my apartment, then fell onto the bed without even taking off my shoes.

  I woke up at seven in the evening, my thumb throbbing painfully. I got up, took three aspirins, then tried to go back to sleep. It was no use. I still felt rotten and exhausted, but the few hours' sleep had been just enough to juice up my mental circuits to the point where all the events of the past few days came flooding back into my thoughts. I knew for certain that I wouldn't be able to truly relax until the case had been wrapped up and I'd looked into the faces of the people responsible
for trying to kill a seven-year-old child. I decided it couldn't hurt to think about it. And maybe just walk around a bit, if I felt I absolutely had to.

  My head felt fuzzy, but I was hungry. I made myself soup and a sandwich; the food stayed down, and I started to feel better. I shaved, showered and put on my bathrobe, intending to relax for a few hours with some music and a book. I called the hospital and was assured once again that Kathy was in satisfactory condition. When I asked to have my call switched to Madeline's room, I was told that the scientist had been released that morning. I reached Mad at her apartment.

  "Hello?" Her voice sounded normal.

  "Hi, babe. It's Mongo. How are you feeling?"

  "Much better, my friend. Thank you. What about you?"

  "I'm feeling about half. Listen; I just wanted you to know that the little girl is going to be all right."

  "Thank God," Mad whispered intently. "Were they finally able to diagnose what was wrong with her?"

  "Yeah. Believe it or not, somebody sent a tape recording describing exactly what the problem was. Pressure was felt somewhere. I don't know whether I had anything to do with applying it, but I want to thank you again for supplying me with the information you did."

  "It was nothing," Mad said, sounding immensely relieved. "I'm just so glad the girl is going to live."

  "Mad, have you ever heard of the Mystic Eye Institute?"

  "Why, yes," she said after a moment's hesitation. "It's an occult-studies school run by John Krowl. Why?"

  "Just curious. Can anyone join?"

  "Yes, as far as I know," she replied, sounding puzzled. "It's just a school. John and a few other people give lectures and conduct seminars on the occult arts."

  "Then there's nothing particularly secretive about it?"

  "No. As a matter of fact, it's listed in the phone book. Mongo, are you still investigating this Esobus thing?"

  "Yeah. Do you have any idea how Mystic Eye is funded?"