Around him heads turned. Some brows went up. He spotted a couple of double takes…also rolled eyes. Again, he noticed that he reflected in store windows as a faint haze.
Even this way not everyone saw him, he noticed. One woman said to her girlfriend, “What’s everyone looking at?” A man’s eyes, too, slid past with no indication of registering his presence. Otherwise Robocop appeared successful. Now on to haunting Irah.
Looking around for a spot to inconspicuously pull the plug, he spotted a security guard coming up behind him. Young, husky, a hint of swagger in his stride.
“Hi, there. That’s a cool costume.” The guard smiled, but above it, his eyes were wary. “It looks just the movie.”
Cole smiled back. “Thank you. I built it myself.”
“And you’re wearing it this afternoon because…?” The friendly tone did not quite hide the edge on the question, nor the direction his eyes drifted…down toward the holster on Cole’s hip.
Maybe an armed shaped had been a poor choice. Cole kept smiling and stood as relaxed as the Robocop form could manage. “A friend bet I wouldn’t have the nerve to walk clear through the mall in it. I stand to win fifty bucks.”
“Is that a real Desert Eagle?”
“Nah…just a plastic replica.” Cole felt himself starting to run out of steam. Holding this shape was harder than materializing as himself. Worse, another guard, female, strolled toward them. Trying to look casual but no doubt coming in response to the first guard’s call for backup.
“It certainly looks real. May I see it?”
Meaning: hand it over. With that being impossible, the time had definitely come to pull the plug. The male guard’s eyes had narrowed and his partner eased into a position off to Cole’s side, her thumbs hooked over her duty belt near the pepper spray. He had to let go of Robocop here in front of them, too, since running for somewhere might create a situation endangering bystanders. Well, this ought to be interesting.
“Scotty, beam me up.” He let go.
The guards, and bystanders who had been watching them, started, then gaped in disbelief. “What the hell? Where did he go?”
The female guard frowned. “It must have been some kind of projected image.”
“No way.” The male guard shook his head. “He was as solid and three dimensional as you are…and we talked.” He glanced around. “Where would a projection come from?”
Cole left them peering up at the promenade and lobby levels above. However much it bugged them trying to explain what happened, with luck, that hinted at how much he could mess with Irah’s mind. Grinning in anticipation, he zipped back to the Embarcadero.
17
The anticipation turned to frustration back in Irah’s office. She had gone. Rather than waste the collection effort, he headed for Flaxx’s office. She might be there and he could confront both of them at once. Or if Flaxx were alone, he might use the opportunity to rat Irah out and tell big brother what little sister had been up to on her own.
As Cole approached Flaxx’s door, however, he thought of the security tape and realized that now he had a way to see it. Let the haunting wait a few more minutes. He changed direction for the Security office.
When Cole passed through the door, Farrell had his back to it, sitting relaxed with his hands behind his head while he watched the monitors. In particular, he appeared to be watching the reception area. On the monitor Gina bent over straightening magazines on a side table, an action that raised her skirt in back, displaying the entire length of her legs. Cole made himself block out the show and concentrate on visualizing himself as Earl Lamper and his voice as Lamper’s.
As soon he felt substance, he cleared his throat. “Mr. Farrell.”
Farrell jerked upright and whipped his chair around. “Mr. Lamper! I didn’t hear you come in.”
It worked! And doing Lamper felt easier than Robocop. Cole gave him one of Lamper’s thin smiles, though he felt like pounding Farrell’s back in celebration. “I’d like another look at that tape we showed the detectives.”
“Yes, sir.” Farrell pulled the cassette out of the drawer and pushed it into the TV/VCR. “How much of it?”
“Run it from noon until seven-thirty.” That probably gave him a race between the tape and holding on to the materialization, but he needed to be sure Irah had not left earlier than the time period they checked before. Maybe the less he moved, the longer he could last.
Farrell started the tape. Images flickered for a second or two, then disappeared into static, followed by a partial image and more static.
“What the hell?” Farrell’s scalp furrowed. “I don’t understand. This was fine when I showed it to Miss Carrasco.”
Irah! Cole swore silently. “When was that?”
“A couple of hours ago.”
Hearing about the tape’s existence startled Irah. She no doubt expected it to have been thrown away. She needed it thrown away, so no one could see she never left the office that evening, that she had been there to catch Sara and lure him to the garage. “Have you been out of the office since then?”
Farrell’s tone went anxious. “Just to take a leak and get my lunch from the break room. And I locked the office.”
No defense against Irah. She would have seen where Farrell kept the tape, and running a magnet over it enough to mess it up did not take long.
“This isn’t your fault. You might as well stop the tape. There’s no point trying to watch any more.” Just as well. He could not hold the materialization much longer. “Still keep the tape, though.” Experts might be able to salvage something.
He eased toward the door. While Farrell ejected the tape and returned it to the drawer, Cole said, “Thank you,” and let go.
Farrell glanced around, and blinked. “Mr. Lamper?” Then he shrugged and turned back to his monitors.
Cole zipped back to his Embarcadero intersection and stalked angrily through the vehicles. Now he had no proof Irah stayed late and-
A raucous outburst from gulls pulled his attention upward…and bringing the clock on the Ferry Building tower into his line of sight. The time! This was about when Razor planned to see Sherrie! For all the time spent at SF General, Cole wondered, did he have enough sense of its location for a ziptrip? He opened his internal map and put a mental finger on the hospital…next to the James Lick Freeway, tucked between the Mission and Potrero Hill… then pictured the ER’s location inside the hospital.
The Embarcadero turned into the ER reception desk. Yes! Maybe he finally had zipping nailed. Giving the oblivious clerk a thumbs up, he hurried past the desk into the ER.
Finding Sherrie and Razor might take time. They had a choice of places to talk, including outside, if Razor wanted to smoke. Cole had barely started hunting them, however, when he spotted Razor coming out of the nurse’s lounge…alone. Face deadpan, Razor headed for the exit. Cole’s stomach knotted. The meeting appeared to be over, and must not have gone well. He angled to intercept Razor and ask what happened.
Before he said a word, Razor muttered, “Outside.”
Razor saw him without being prompted? That was real progress. In the parking lot, Razor did not look at him again until he lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
The meeting had not gone at all well, Cole reflected bleakly. “It was that bad?”
Razor exhaled. “Well it’s sure as hell creeping me out.”
Cole’s stared at him in dismay. “What happened with Sherrie?”
“Sherrie?” Razor blinked. “I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the other ghosts in there.”
Now it was Cole’s turn to blink. “You’ve seen other ghosts?”
“Oh, yeah.” Razor took another deep drag. “Not like I do you. They’re on the edge of my vision and when I turn to look, they disappear. I didn’t just see them, either. One kept saying a woman’s name over and over.”
“Why is that worse than seeing me?”