Part 4 (1/2)

Her eyes opened, but she was still nine-tenths asleep. ”Are you a dream?”

”Yes.”

”Thought so.” There was a sigh and she slipped under again.

After being with Bobbi, it was always a rude jolt to come back to my own spartan hotel room. The essentials were there: a bed, rarely used, a chest of drawers, a chair, a bath, even a radio. For $6.50 a week it was luxurious, but not really a home.

Bobbi knew where I hung my hat, but had never been invited over. There was little reason for it since her own place was more comfortable and larger. For one thing, she did not have a three-by-five-foot steamer trunk taking up most of the floor s.p.a.ce. More than once the bellhop had asked if I wanted to have it stored in the bas.e.m.e.nt. I tipped well so he was always alert to do me a favor. A bas.e.m.e.nt might be better to avoid sunlight, but was not as safe. During the day I needed a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doork.n.o.b and the door firmly locked against curious eyes. The trunk was locked as well, the key on a chain hanging from my neck.

Once, after getting back too late, the sun had caught me out. I'd been unable to sieve inside as usual and suffered a painful and panicky search for the key, an incident I planned never to repeat.

I drew a hot bath, cleaned the remaining booze smell from my hair, and tried to get comfortable on the lumpy bed. The bellhop had left my regular pile of newspapers outside the door. I filled in the remaining time before dawn flipping through them. Nothing in the news held my attention, and that felt odd since it had once been my bread and b.u.t.ter. Times change, people change, and I had certainly changed more than most.

Automatically, my eyes scanned the personal columns, but as ever, there was nothing to see. Five years had gone by without a response.

The papers went into the wastebasket. I thought of Bobbi. and with a sharp twist of guilt, I thought of Maureen.

I remembered the touch of her body, smaller and stronger, with dark hair and light blue eyes. I remembered the long nights spent loving her and our hope that it would last forever. Together we decided to at least try to make it so. I had no guarantee that it would work for me, but the hope was there; it would have to be enough. After taking from me, she tilted her head back, drawing the skin taut, and used her fingernail in a deft movement over the vein in her throat. She pulled me close and I tasted the warmth of what had been my blood, filtered through her body and returned again. Its red heat hit me from the inside out like the rush of air from an open furnace. A shock of fire, a flash of inner light, and then the s.h.i.+mmer of her life filling me...

My hands clenched. There was no comfort in remembered pa.s.sion, it was all gone. Maureen was gone.

But Bobbi was here, vital and loving. I wanted and needed her just as much. It was hardly fair to her to have my mind drifting back to Maureen at awkward moments, nor was it fair to myself.

I found paper and wrote out instructions. It took less than two minutes, and another three pa.s.sed downstairs as I explained what I wanted to the night clerk. He promised to fix everything. A minute for each year of searching and waiting, and that was how long it took to break off my last hope of contacting her. I felt empty, but no worse than usual. With Bobbi to help I could put the memories away for good.

It was time to let the past rest; let it rest or it would continue to tear me up inside.

Let it rest, because G.o.d knows I was tired.

”Mr. Fleming?” It was the bellhop's voice, sounding faintly worried. His knuckles rapped on the door. ”Mr. Fleming?”

I had no twilight moment of grogginess; I was either awake or totally unconscious. I faded from the interior of the trunk, re-formed outside, and answered the door, pretending to look sleepy.

”Yeah, what is it, Todd?”

”Sorry to wake you, but you got this phone message and the guy said it was urgent. He's been calling all day. You never answered, so we figured you were out.”

He gave me a slip of paper.

I unfolded it and read Escott's name and the phone number of his small office a few blocks away. He wanted me to call or come over immediately.

”You say he's called earlier?”

”A couple of times since I came on at four. It sounded important and I've been trying-”

”Okay, thanks for bringing it up. Did Gus get around to that stuff like I asked?”

”Yessir, got 'em all, he said to tell you. You still want your usual delivery?”

”Yeah, go ahead with that,” I said absently, rereading the brief note. Escott certainly knew better than to try contacting me during the day, so he must be in some kind of trouble. I dressed and shot down to wedge into the lobby phone booth.

He answered on the first ring, sounding perfectly normal.

”h.e.l.lo, Jack, I've been trying to reach you.””What's up?”

”Something extremely interesting. Another case, as a matter of fact. I'd like to talk it over with you right away.”

”Sure, I'm on my way.”

”Have you dined yet?”

”Well...”

”We could talk details over dinner-my treat.”

I struggled to keep alarm from my tone. ”Sounds great. Meet at your office? ”

”Certainly.”

My premature relief was blown to bits. His perfectly normal manner had not been for me but for the benefit of whoever was in the office and listening to the call. He knew I no longer required ordinary food and was unavailable before sunset, but the listener did not. It did indeed look like the start of an interesting case.

Dusk was taking its own sweet time; the sky was still harsh and bright to me when I started my Buick. I fumbled on my sungla.s.ses to ease the light down to a comfortable level. It didn't take long to cover the distance to Escott's office and park around the corner from his door. I wanted to check things out first before barging in.

He had two modest rooms on the second floor, each with a window fronting the street. Both were wide open because of the warm weather, but the blinds were drawn. Slices of light showed through the right-hand room. The left, which served the back room, was still dark. Without hurry I walked until I was positioned directly under it, and since the street was momentarily clear, partially vanished.

By concentrating, I could control the degree of transparency. My body took on all the solidity of a double-exposed photo and about half the weight. My hand went out and I could see the bricks of the building through it. Like a helium balloon, but with gripping fingers, I went up to the second story. I did not look down. I hate heights.

I made it to the window and thankfully slipped inside, but retained my current state. This semi-solid form left me visible-if alarming to any witnesses-but did not deprive me of sight and speech and gave me agile and perfectly silent movement.

The connecting door between the rooms was wide open. A bright fan of light spilled in from the front, so I took care to avoid it and folded the sungla.s.ses away for unrestricted vision.

Escott was seated behind his desk, his back to me and his head turned slightly to the right. A chair stood on that side, and from his posture alone I could guess it was occupied.

I vanished completely and got close enough to him to give him a chill. After a moment, he stifled a s.h.i.+ver and cleared his throat. I drew off to one side to see what he wanted of me.

He cleared his throat again. ”May I go get some water?”

A woman answered him. ”No.”

”I thought perhaps you might want some as well.”

There was no reply.

”You might not be able to get us both, you know. My a.s.sociate is extremely fast when he wants to be.”

”I remember how fast, but no one's this fast.”

”Perhaps. The first shot will be the most important. After that... well, homemade silencers are notorious for problems.”