The Vampire Files - Bloodlist Part 18

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm glad... may we leave?"

Escott clearly did not care for cattle at all. We got back to the car without incident and sc.r.a.ped our shoes off. Things were improved enough that I was able to drive, but Escott was more tired than he wanted to admit and remained quiet. It was fine with me, since I wanted to think. My first waking hour had been too occupied with trying to recover and all my day time had been spent in total oblivion. I couldn't remember dreaming, perhaps I no longer did.

Physically I was all right, emotionally I was angry. It was still inside me, ready to be directed at Morelli or myself. I could have walked out of the club at any time last night, but stayed and went through the wringer again, hoping to find a memory.

Except for the humiliation suffered at allowing another man to hit me when I could have hit back, I wasn't really hurt. Oddly enough, I felt no grudge against Gordy; the man's manner had been so completely neutral through the whole business that I thought of him only as a tool in Morelli's hand. I also remembered the b.l.o.o.d.y wreck of Sanderson's face. That had held me back, that and not wanting to tip my supernatural hand to them.

There was a kid I knew in the Army whose right hand had been shot clean off. I saw him years later wearing an artificial hand covered with a glove. He'd gotten into the habit of hiding it in his pocket and pretending it wasn't there, and each time you looked at his eyes they stared hard into yours demanding that you pretend as well.

There was another kid in the same unit who'd lost a leg from the knee down. I met him again in New York while doing a story for the paper. He was the lead dancer and director of a polka troupe. He, too, was ignoring his injured limb, but in a different way.

My vampirism was just a peculiar condition, like a health problem. If I respected the rules it imposed I'd have less trouble, and that made it more acceptable to my confused brain. There were definite compensations for the rules, though. Otherwise I'd be at the bottom of Lake Michigan, forgotten and unavenged, along with who knows how many others. I'd changed in a greater sense than my grandfather could ever have imagined, but I'd been fighting it. That was why I'd been reluctant to have Escott watch as I fed. Had our positions been reversed I doubt if the thought would have even crossed his mind.

My anger had a direction now.

Morelli thought that kid brother Gerald was dead, and so did all his boys. It was a unique situation, certainly one of which I intended to take full advantage.

"I'm going after Morelli again," I said.

Escott nodded. "I can't think of a more choice subject for you to turn your talents upon. Have you worked out a plan yet?"Yes. In fact, you inspired it back at the Yards."

"Indeed?"

I explained my idea. With a chuckle he approved and added a few touches of his own. We changed direction to go to his house, picked up some stuff, then went back to my hotel. While I took a bath, he worked on my perforated tuxedo s.h.i.+n.

"I certainly wish I could be around to see his face," he said, blowing lightly on the wet gore to dry it. Gingerly I put the s.h.i.+rt on, doubling my chin to get a good look at my front. A large part of it was covered with what looked like blood, but was actually some very realistic-looking stage stuff Escott had developed himself.

"The trouble with real blood," he said cleaning his paint brush, "is that it dries out, gets sticky, and goes brown, but this will stay nice and fresh looking.

Unfortunately, it doesn't wash out, but in this case that hardly matters."

"Nope, the bloodier, the better," I agreed. It was good to be P. N. Brad doing something positive, not to mention sneaky, like a kid out on a college prank.

I had good color again, but Escott opened his makeup case and toned it down, putting circles under my eyes and hollowing out the cheeks.

"At least your face has the right underlying bone structure for this sort of thing. I find nothing more tiresome than trying to thin down a full face."

"That's never been one of my problems." I'd always been on the lean side. "Did you learn all this in the theater?"

"Yes, in Canada. I was apprentice to the makeup artist of a Shakespearean company for three years. I was also props, scenery painter, set builder, and as you know, occasionally played a part. I'm especially fond of character parts. The Soothsayer in Julius Caesar was one of my best roles, though hardly an effective one, considering that Caesar chose to ignore me."

"Got any similar warnings for me?"

"My dear fellow, in all fairness, I should call Mr. Morelli and warn him. He is in for a rough night. There, you don't look quite so bad as Banquo's ghost, but you'll do.

It's subtlety we are striving for, after all." He gave me the keys to his car.

"But I couldn't-"

"I insist. Tonight, at least, so that you need not be delayed waiting for a taxi. You can drop me back home again and go on to the club from there."

It made sense and I was very grateful for the loan. As he pointed out, I might have a problem getting a cab driver to take me as a customer the way I was got up now.

"Look, I know you must be tired-"

"Nonsense, it is not doing anything that tires me out."

"Well, I thought if you felt well enough tomorrow you might ask around for a car for me."

"That should be no trouble. I have a friend in the business. New or used?"

I gave him enough money for a good used one. I had no preference of model as long as it was dark in color and fairly anonymous. I drove him to his door and promised to tell him all the details tomorrow, then I turned the nose of the big Nash north and headed for the Nightcrawler.

Parking a block away and out of sight of the club, I carefully locked things up and went down the dark street, trying to look inconspicuous in the bloodied tux. It was damp and quiet; the hard heels on my dress shoes made a lot of noise against the sidewalk, at least to my ears. Having made a wide circle to avoid the front entrance, I eased into the alley, found it empty, and tiptoed up the concrete steps to listen at the kitchen door. A lot of activity was going on within, but I slipped inside anyway, feeling my invisible way along in the general direction of the twenty-eight-pace-long hall. They'd done me a favor with the blindfold last night, for it was very close to the method of travel I used now. I felt my way to the stairs and ascended, then partially materialized at the top to get my bearings.

The upstairs hall matched the one below, but was longer, running the length of the building. Just to the left and across the hall was a likely-looking door for Morelli's office. The rest of the hall had doors at regular intervals. Some were open with lights inside, and nearby a radio was playing, competing with the orchestra down below in the club.

Things seemed deserted for the moment, so I took the opportunity to check out the area. A partially solid form made it easier and quieter to move and my senses weren't so m.u.f.fled, though it was almost like swimming in the air. I went to the office first; it was empty and I moved on to other rooms. There were several bedrooms, bathrooms, and a second set of stairs on the far east end. About a dozen of Morelli's boys seemed to be permanent residents, at two to a room. The place was like a hotel. The next door down from the office led to a much larger bedroom, probably Morelli's. I took a good look around, opening drawers and being generally nosy. He had a large tiled bath, a well-filled closet, and a door opening to a slightly smaller bedroom. From the decor and scent I knew it was Bobbi's.

She'd be downstairs, probably in the casino. If she'd been singing, I would have heard her. I wondered if she knew what had happened last night. Morelli might not have told her. It was something to hope for, anyway.

On the ground floor was another hall running roughly through the center of the building at right angles to the first, and it ended in a closed door. The hall served as a buffer zone between the casino and the nightclub. The door gave joint access to the hat-check stand and the casino cas.h.i.+er. I got curious as to where they kept the money they raked in, and went back to Morelli's office.

After a short search, one of the boat paintings on the wall swung out on hinges, revealing a combination-lock safe. I was unfamiliar with such things, but had read a lot of lurid literature about them and seen a few in movies. I'd be able to hear the tumblers clicking into place and for the moment had nothing better to do. The office door was locked, so there'd be enough warning to vanish in case of an interruption.

Playing with the dial was harder than it looked, and about a minute after I started, heavy footfalls were coming in my direction. I pushed the painting back, stood behind the door, and disappeared.

They twisted a key and the doork.n.o.b at the same time and three bodies burst into the room, hitting the lights. There was silence for a while as they went over the place. I felt the tug of moving air when they whipped the door away from me.

"He must have got past us," said someone.

"He wouldn't have had time." It was Morelli's voice.

"Then maybe the trip is on the fritz."

They tested it out. I got the idea that the second the painting swung open it set off a signal elsewhere in the building. It was working fine, but Morelli left a man to keep an eye on things while they searched the rest of the place. The other two left. I waited a decent interval until he settled into a chair. From the noises he made he seemed disgusted with guard duty. I quietly materialized before him, and his expression when he looked up was worth a million. I had his complete attention, and that made the rest easy.

"Don't move," I told him.

He didn't.

"I'm not here, you can't see me, you won't remember me. Take a nap."

He folded his arms over the desk blotter, lowered his head, and dozed off. I watched and listened, but he was genuinely asleep. I suddenly s.h.i.+vered all over and stifled a nervous laugh. Had it once been like this for Lament Cranston? Only the Shadow knew...

I went to the painting, swung it open, and waited.

My man woke up when the door crashed open. I could imagine everyone looking at the painting in vain, since it had been thoughtfully pushed back into place.

"Did you touch it?"

"I never went near it, Slick, honest! I been in this chair the whole time."Morelli growled and they tested it out again with no better results. There was a brief argument and in the end a second man was left to keep the first company. I waited long enough to give Morelli time to get downstairs, or wherever it was where he spent his evenings.

The two men were facing each other, one behind the desk, the other in the chair in front. They were quiet, but from the small sounds produced, a deck of cards was in use. The first man had already been primed, hypnotizing the second was just as easy.

They both got sent off to Slumberland, and I repeated my act with the painting.

The next armed invasion was more fun. Morelli cross-examined his two stooges, unfairly accusing them of a lot of things, and then kicked them out, electing to remain there himself to do the job right.

It was exactly what I wanted.

I let him settle down. He made some calls on the house phone and then ordered up some coffee and a sandwich from the kitchen. He swept the cards into a pile and dealt out a hand of solitaire. I was behind him, partially materialized, and watched with interest. The hand didn't come out so he cheated until it did. I went away for a moment when his snack came and left him undisturbed as he ate. With what I had in mind, he'd need all his strength.

When he was quiet again, I moved in, covering him like a blanket. Previous experience informed me that in this form I was on the cold side. He began to s.h.i.+ver almost immediately. I clung around him as he got up and fiddled with something on the wall, probably the air vent. He paced up and down, then got on the phone and made an irritable inquiry on the state of the air-cooling system. We both waited until the return call came that stated everything was working fine. He slammed the phone down and poured another cup of coffee to warm up. I drifted away, coming to rest on the chair I'd occupied last night.

By very slow degrees I became visible, until I was sitting solidly in front of him, staring with blank, wide-open eyes. I thought my initial appearance should be underplayed.

His reaction was quite gratifying.

Perhaps he'd first noticed something just on the edge of his vision as he looked down at the cards, something that didn't belong. The eye automatically tracks movement, but I wasn't moving, only gradually becoming there.

His eyes snapped up and grew until they were as wide as my own. His heart lurched and his breath stuck in his throat, and he stayed that way for nearly a minute, apparently too terrified to look away or even move. I thought if I said boo (and I was very tempted) he'd go completely to pieces, so I kept still and slowly faded away.

Escott had said that my antics were unnerving. Now I was getting a firsthand look at their effect on the uninitiated.He was frozen in place for some time, his heart fighting against his rib cage.

Cards and cold coffee forgotten, he got up and circled the chair. As soon as he touched it I blanketed him again to give a brief chill and then pulled away. He jerked back as though he'd been burned instead, and he was backpedaling for the door.

I heard his steps retreating down the hall. While he was out I eased the door shut and locked it. Going to the desk, I gathered all the cards up into a neat pile, which I left in the exact center of the blotter, faceup. The top card was the ace of spades. I opened the hinged picture again, shutting it and vanis.h.i.+ng just as the door was unlocked.

He wasn't the first inside; he left that to Gordy, whom I recognized by his sheer bulk. Morelli was upset, but too proud to show it in front of his men, or to explain why he'd called them back so urgently. They went over the room inch by inch, testing the safe out again with negative results. I spent the time wrapped around Morelli to stay out of everyone's way and to wear his nerves down some more. He was gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering.

Then he noticed the cards on the desk.

"Which one of you did that?" he demanded.

They were all innocent and said so. He shut up, probably brooding on the significance of the top card. In the end, he pitched all of them out, except Gordy. The chair went out as well and another was brought in. He left the door open and had Gordy stand in the hall to watch the stairs.

He fidgeted awhile, getting up and patrolling the room, then dropping behind the desk in disgust. He had no further use for the cards and just sat there, fully alert and listening. I decided to fulfill his expectations.

I appeared quite suddenly on the floor, recreating the position I d been in when he saw me dead on the sidewalk last night.

It was a real sensation.

He shot to his feet, sending his chair over with a crash that brought Gordy in just too late to see me.

This time Morelli had him stay in the room.

He ordered up some more coffee and lit a cigar; just the thing for his nerves, as far as I was concerned. I waited patiently.

Gordy's suggestion for a game of pinochle was ignored. Neither man spoke much.

Small wonder.

The coffee came and went. Morelli got up and said he'd be back in a minute.

After all that liquid and the chills, I knew where he was headed.

He chose to go to the big tiled one in his own room. In his absence, I gently put Gordy to sleep and turned out the room lights. After making sure it was clear, I shut off the hall lights and then waited for Morelli to come out. When he did, he got very cold again. He hesitated in the fan of light from his bedroom, not wanting to venture into the dark hail.

"Gordy?" His voice was not normal, nor very loud. He had to repeat himself several times before Gordy responded. The office light came on.

"Yeah... Slick? Why are the lights off?"

"What the h.e.l.l were you doing sitting in the dark?"

"I dunno, I looked up and they were out."

"Did you put 'em out?"

"No, boss!" He sounded hurt. "Maybe one of the boys is playing a joke."

"Then you go find 'em and tell 'em it ain't funny."

"Sure. Now?"

"Yes, now!"

Gordy trundled off, stopping at the other occupied rooms to talk with the boys.

Morelli's teeth were chattering, so I gave him a break and preceded him into the office. He opened a desk drawer and brought something out that clunked heavily when he put it on the desk. It wasn't hard to guess what it was. Well, if it gave him a sense of security, fine. I'd just have to undermine it.

I partially materialized in front of him, my hands reaching out. He blanched, brought the gun up-it was a police .38-and let fly with all six chambers. In this halfway state I felt the bullets tickle through. They made sensation, but no pain.

Nevertheless, I rocked back as though hit, and vanished. The room was full of smoke as his men charged in looking for something to shoot at, and they all asked questions, even the quiet Gordy. Morelli declined to answer and just said the gun went off by accident.

"Six times?"

For a gangster he was a lousy liar. "Shut the h.e.l.l up and get out!"

They got out.

I hung around until four A.M. By then the club and casino were long closed, and the money counted and locked away behind the picture of the boat. Prior to opening the safe, Morelli had pressed a b.u.t.ton under his desk, which I understood deactivated the circuit of the burglar alarm. At the time, everyone was out of the office while he twirled the combination lock open. No one was there to see me peering over his shoulder and getting all the numbers.He was feeling better after shooting at me and I'd been quiet for some time, which restored some of his confidence. All the same, he left two men in the office with the door open and strict instructions to keep their eyes in the same condition.

Then he went to bed.

Twenty minutes pa.s.sed, and things were quiet. I put the men to sleep, found the b.u.t.ton, and turned off the alarm. It took another quarter hour of twisting the d.a.m.ned dial around before getting the combination right. I'd been off on the last number and had to experiment. It was frustrating work and bad on my nerves because I had to keep half an ear c.o.c.ked on the hallway, ready to vanish if I heard someone coming. In retrospect, I'm sure the time spent was pretty good for a complete novice. It certainly was profitable.