“You shot me,” Wolfe gasped.
His hand went to his side. The bullet had only grazed him. He pretended it was much worse, and started to moan.
“Help me…”
Fami took the bait. He came around the counter wearing a stricken look. Wolfe waited until he was close before knocking the gun away. He threw his hands around Fami’s throat, and began to choke him with the gold peace symbol hanging around his neck.
“This is 911. What’s your emergency?” came a voice out of the cordless phone on the counter.
“Help! He’s killing me,” Fami screamed.
“Hold on! We’re on our way,” the operator replied.
Two quick blows and Fami was lying on the floor. Wolfe grabbed the clothes off the counter and fled.
* * *
The gunshot was ringing in his ears as he entered his hotel room. Every soldier had a preference of how he wanted to die. Getting shot to death by a bloody hippie was not his.
He sat on the bed, and waited for his head to clear. His laptop sat on the dresser. The screen saver was of the beach in the Seychelles where he planned to retire with Rita. Just looking at the cobalt-blue ocean made him feel better. Without warning, the picture morphed into the Order’s shimmering symbol. It was the elders.
He grabbed the laptop and logged in. The elders had sent him an e-mail with an attachment, which he opened. It contained photographs of the remaining people on his hit list. The photograph of Millicent Adams had a bright red circle drawn around it, and he guessed they wanted him to take her out next. Bloody idiots. Next they’d be picking his meals for him.
He signed out of e-mail. To his surprise, the Order’s symbol remained on the screen. When he tried to retrieve the Seychelles screen saver, he discovered that it had been erased. He grabbed the laptop and shook it in a rage.
The elders were going to harass him until he got the job done. They didn’t care if he lived or died. He was just another dog they were keeping on a psychic leash.
Wolfe decided that he’d had enough. This would be his last contract for the Order. It was time for him to start a new life.
He put on his new clothes, feeling better about his situation already.
24
Peter and Liza cabbed it to the theater. Peter did not feel like talking, content to hold his girlfriend’s hand while staring out the window at the gusty winds that now accompanied the rain. The weather had been foul for days, and he wondered if the spirits were trying to tell him something. Instead of coming out and saying what was on their minds, the spirits always made it a puzzle, and challenged him to figure it out. It was as if he weren’t good enough for them, and had to prove himself whenever they made contact.
“Your fingers are ice cold,” Liza said. “I hope you’re not getting sick.”
He looked down at his hands. The skin had turned blue, and he cupped his hands and blew into them. He was reminded of how cold he’d gotten while confronting Wolfe outside Lester Rowe’s apartment. Was this a sign telling him that Wolfe was lying in wait at the theater? He wasn’t going to take any chances, and he called Zack on his cell phone.
“Hey Peter’s, what’s up?” his head of security answered.
“I’m five minutes away from the theater,” Peter said. “How we looking?”
“The place is packed. Your fan club from New Jersey is here.”
“I thought that was next week.”
“Nope. It’s tonight. Hope you’re ready for them.”
Peter sank into his seat. His fan club consisted of six hundred starry-eyed teenage girls who’d created a Web site where they posted their favorite stories about his shows. Dealing with them was almost as scary as the prospect of the assassin on the hunt for him.
“Any sign of Wolfe?” he asked.
“He hasn’t shown his ugly face,” Zack replied. “I tripled security inside the theater, and we’re giving everyone a pat down before they come in.”
“Is that causing any problems?”
“Yes. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Stay on your toes. Something tells me he’s nearby, hiding under a rock.”
“I’m all over it like a cheap suit,” Zack said.
“I know you are. See you soon.”
Five minutes later, the cab pulled up to the theater. A line of New Jersey tour buses hugged the curb. As Peter and Liza got out, a squealing teenager slipped out from beneath the canopy in front of the theater, and shoved a giant greeting card into Peter’s hands that had been signed by every member of his fan club.
“We love you, Peter,” she said breathlessly.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Sophia. I’m the president of your fan club. Your tricks are so cool.”
Sophia had braces and looked no more than fifteen. She had braved the elements to meet him, and deserved a reward.
“Would you like to see a trick, Sophia?” he asked.
“Would I! That would be totally awesome.”
What kind of trick would she like to see? Something with lots of color and flash, he determined. Cuffing his sleeves, he plucked a blue scarf out of the air, and made it magically tie itself in knots while held at arm’s length in front of his chest. Rolling the scarf into a ball, he tossed it into the air, where it turned into confetti that scattered harmlessly at her feet.
“You’re amazing! Wait until I tell my friends!”
Squealing with delight, the teenager hurried inside. Peter remained on the sidewalk with Liza. The coldness in his bones had not gone away, nor had the feeling that danger was lurking nearby. He looked up and down the quiet block. Wolfe was preparing to strike. But where?
“You’re shaking,” Liza said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Let’s go through the back entrance. Don’t want your fans to see you like this.”
They walked around the theater to the rear entrance. At the back door Liza stopped, put her arms around his waist, and brought her face up so their noses were nearly touching.
“Please tell me what’s going on,” she whispered.
“Something’s happening to me,” he whispered back.
“What do you mean? You have to open up.”
“I’m changing. My powers were never like this. I didn’t anticipate things, or feel strange premonitions coming on. It seems like my powers are out of control.”
“I’ve known you for two years. You’ve never acted like this before.”
“I’ve never felt this way before,” he admitted. “It started when Wolfe attacked me on stage the other night.”
“What started? Come on. Be more specific.”
How could he explain the strange metamorphosis taking place inside him? It took a moment before the right words came out. “I used to be a bystander. I would do seances, and see things in the future, and try to figure out what they meant. The mind reading was the same way. I’d read people’s thoughts, and try to make sense of them. I’m not a bystander anymore.”
“Then what are you?”
“I’m part of it.”
Liza didn’t understand. Her frightened eyes pleaded with him to explain.
“The spirit world is like a river with an unbelievably strong current,” he said. “It’s always moving, and never slows down. Before, I was standing on the side of the river, watching things flow past.”
“What are you doing now?”
“I’ve been pushed into the river against my will, and I’m being pulled along by the current, heading downstream to some strange place that I’ve never been to before.”
“Is it scary?”
“It’s scary as hell,” he said.
“Do you think it’s permanent?”
“I wish I knew.”
His cell phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was Snoop.
“Hey, you lovebirds, we’ve got a show to do,” his assistant said.
Peter looked into the eye of the surveillance camera perched over the back door. “Are you spying on us?”
“How do you think I got the name Snoop?”
“We’ll be right in.”
He folded his phone and put it away. Liza did not let him go.