Amaryllis threw Lucas an uneasy glance. “I see.”
“How come you’re so curious about Jonny now that he’s dead?” Vivien asked.
Amaryllis hesitated. “Someone suggested that you might be able to tell me something about him.”
“Like what?”
“I was told that you knew the truth about him.” Amaryllis shrugged. “I wondered if that meant that you knew something about his death.”
“Jonny’s death?” Alarm flashed in Vivien’s face. “I don’t know a damn thing about it. Look here, if you’ve got any idea of involving me in that, you can think again. Get out of here right now or I’ll call Titus.”
Lucas figured Titus was the mountain who stood guard at the door. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re not trying to tie you to Landreth’s death. We know it was an accident.”
Vivien’s gaze flicked back and forth between Lucas and Amaryllis. “That’s what it said in the papers. He fell off a cliff or something, right?”
“Right,” Lucas agreed. He gave Amaryllis a warning look.
She pursed her lips, apparently not certain how to proceed. “When did you last see Professor Landreth?”
Vivien shrugged. “Night before he died. His regular appointment.”
“No offense,” Amaryllis said, “but it’s hard to envision Professor Landreth having a standing appointment with you.”
“Well, believe it. I danced privately for Jonny one night a week for two years. He was as regular as clockwork.”
“I see.” Amaryllis said. “Did Jonny, I mean, did Professor Landreth seem anxious or preoccupied the last time you saw him?”
“What d’you mean?” Vivien still looked suspicious.
“I’m not sure,” Amaryllis admitted. “I suppose I’m asking if he seemed different that night. Distracted, perhaps?”
A shrewd light gleamed in the stripper’s eyes. “You’re with an insurance company, aren’t you? That’s what this is all about. I’ll bet you’re trying to get out of paying off on Jonny’s policy. Well, you won’t get no help from me.”
“I’m not working for an insurance company,” Amaryllis said hastily. “I just want to settle a few outstanding questions, that’s all. Professor Landreth was a friend of mine.”
“Friend, huh?” Vivien reached for a brush.
“He was my mentor at the university.”
Vivien softened somewhat. “I guess you could say that Jonny was a little more tense than usual that last night. But it was hard to tell with him on account of he was always on the rigid side, if you know what I mean. Actually, he’d been fussing for a couple of months, now that I think of it.”
“What did he fuss about?” Amaryllis asked.
Vivien looked expectantly at Lucas. With one shoulder propped against a purple wall, Lucas stoically dug his wallet out of his pocket once more. Silently he removed some cash and handed it to Vivien. She gave him a radiant smile and turned back to Amaryllis with a confidential air.
“In the past few weeks Jonny talked more than usual about how there was still a lot the experts didn’t know about the synergy of psychic talent. He rambled on a bit about how no one had documented all the different types of power yet. About how some talent might be dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Amaryllis repeated.
Vivien used a tissue to remove several more layers of makeup. “You have to understand, Jonny was always carrying on about his research. I tuned him out most of the time. My job was to relax him.”
“Did he mention any names?” Amaryllis asked cautiously.
“No.” Vivien tossed the tissue aside. “Hell, I wouldn’t have remembered if he had. None of my business. Excuse me. Gotta use the facilities.”
Vivien rose from her purple cushioned stool. The dressing gown billowed out behind her as she crossed the threadbare carpet to open a narrow door at the rear of the room.
Lucas averted his eyes quickly, but not before he caught a glimpse of a familiar, silver-haired figure seated inside the small bathroom. Yolanda did not look up from the magazine she was reading.
“Be out in a minute, Viv.”
“Sorry, Yo, dear. Didn’t hear you in there.” Vivien slammed the door and heaved a deep sigh of resignation. “Yolanda and me gotta share the crapper. Her dressing room is right next door. The jerk who owns this joint is too damn cheap to give his star dancer her own bathroom. Can you believe it? I swear I’m gonna quit one of these days. There’s better clubs on the strip.”
“I can’t believe it,” Amaryllis said.
“Can’t believe that Vivien and Yolanda have to share a restroom?” Lucas took Amaryllis’s hand as they walked out of the alley behind the SynCity Club. “Hey, being a syn-sex stripper’s a tough way to make a living.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not talking about the dressing room facilities. I’m referring to the fact that Professor Landreth had a standing appointment with Vivien.”
“As perversions go, I’d say Landreth’s was fairly innocuous.”
“But it was so unlike him. I knew him for years, and I never had an inkling that he, well, you know.”
“Someone sure as hell had a more realistic view of the sainted professor.” Lucas guided her through the crowd toward the side street that led back to where the Icer was parked.
“What do you mean?” She glanced at him with a searching frown. “Oh, I get it. The person who sent me to see Vivien obviously knew about the appointments.”
“Yeah.”
One block off the main strip, the number of people on the sidewalk dwindled swiftly. The music, noise, and laughter that blared from the open doors of the clubs receded into the distance. Lucas tightened his grip on Amaryllis’s arm, keenly aware of the sound of her footsteps ringing lightly on the stone pavement. He began watching alley entrances and dark doorways.
“Vivien wasn’t very helpful, was she?” Amaryllis said after a while.
“She didn’t have anything to tell you because nothing out of the ordinary occurred the night before Landreth’s death,” Lucas said deliberately. “You heard her say that the professor was always tense.”
“Yes, but she did imply that the night before he died, he had been more tense than usual. In fact, she said he’d been that way for several weeks.”
“She’s a performer. She probably felt obliged to give you something for your money.”
“You mean for your money,” Amaryllis muttered. “I still don’t approve of bribery.”
“I don’t know how in five hells you’ve managed to get this far in life without learning a few of the fine points of pragmatism. The future belongs to the expedient.”
“Nonsense. You don’t really believe that.”
“We’d still be trying to get through the stage door entrance if I hadn’t bribed the guard,” Lucas said. “But given the fact that you and I are never going to see eye to eye when it comes to personal philosophies, let’s move on.”
“To what?”
“I’ll grant you that this evening has had its interesting moments, but things have gone far enough. Think about it logically, Amaryllis. If there had been anything strange about the circumstances of Landreth’s accident, the police would have pursued an investigation.”
“Talking to Vivien has given me an idea, Lucas.” Amaryllis sounded as if she had not heard a word he’d said. “It might not be a bad idea to talk to a few other people who saw the professor just before he was killed.”
“I was afraid of this. What is it with you? Looking for answers is one thing. Getting obsessive about them is another.” Lucas sensed the movement in the deep shadows of the alley before he saw the two men. “Damn. Just what I needed to make this evening perfect.”
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t respond. Lucas used his grip on Amaryllis’s arm to shove her behind him as he pivoted to face the gaping mouth of the alley. There was a clattering noise as she fetched up against a heavy metal garbage can.
“Oh, dear,” Amaryll
is said in a very small voice.
A rustling sound announced the indignant departure of some small animal that had been dining on the contents of the overflowing trash container.
“Lucas?”
Lucas heard her quick, sharp intake of breath. “Stay between me and the wall. Understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
The first man emerged from the alley. He moved with the sinuous glide of a practiced street predator. He was followed by a slightly shorter man who approached with a crablike gait. In the weak light of the streetlamps Lucas saw that both men were dressed in Western Islands gear. Each wore his long, greasy hair tied with a leather thong. The first man wore the designer version of the fashion look. He was covered with an array of zippers, pockets, epaulets, and gadget loops.
But the smaller man wore the real thing.
Lucas glanced at the knives in the men’s hands, and then he concentrated on watching their eyes.
“Nice outfits,” Lucas offered politely.
“Ain’t they, though?” The tall man in the fancy gear snaked closer. “Me and Dancer pride ourselves on being stylish, don’t we, Dancer?”
“Yeah, Rand, stylish. That’s us.” Dancer’s teeth glinted in a savage grin.
“Something we can do for you two fashionable gentlemen?” Lucas asked.
“Well, now that you mention it, there surely is.” Rand motioned with the knife. “You can start by handin’ over your wallet.”
“And then you can hand over the lady.” Dancer licked his lips. “Been a long time since I had a chance to crawl between the legs of a pretty little thing like her.”
“What a disgusting little creep you are,” Amaryllis said loudly.
“Quiet, Amaryllis.” Lucas did not take his eyes off the approaching men.
Dancer spit on the sidewalk. “Don’t worry, I like ’em feisty. More fun that way.”
“You are both a disgrace to the clothes you wear,” Amaryllis informed Dancer and Rand.
“Huh?” Dancer’s face screwed up into a tight frown.
“You’re wearing Western Islands frontier gear, but it’s obvious that neither of you has ever been anywhere near the islands. I suspect you wouldn’t last five minutes in a real jungle. You lack the fortitude to live on the frontier.”
Rand scowled at Lucas. “You better shut her up real fast.”
Lucas shrugged. “That’s easier said than done.”
“You’re frauds, both of you,” Amaryllis declared. “A couple of city street punks playing at being real brave frontiersmen.”
“Stop her right now.” Dancer’s voice rose with alarming suddenness. In the blink of an eye he was losing whatever control he possessed. “Hear me? Make her be quiet.”
Rand cast an uneasy sidelong glance at his companion. Then he grimaced. “Better do as he says,” he advised Lucas.
“Sorry,” Lucas said briefly. “I’ve got better things to do.”
He knew that this was the best chance he was going to get. He summoned energy and poured it into the illusion.
He had no way to focus, so he could not generate a solid, substantial image, just a ghostly apparition. Without a prism he could not make it last for more than a few seconds. But after all the years of practice, he had enough control and enough power to create a brief distraction. With any luck, that was all he and Amaryllis would need.
Lucas readied himself. He felt the stirring of a cold wind. It was a familiar sensation. It often preceded his use of talent, especially when he was attempting to control it without the assistance of a prism.
“What the hell?” Rand swung toward the figure of a policeman that had coalesced in the shadows near a gate. “Where did he come from?”
“What are you talkin’ about?” Dancer shifted his attention toward the figure in the shadows. “I don’t see nothin’.”
The policeman winked out of existence. Lucas moved at the same instant that he lost the ghostly image. He lashed out with his foot and connected with Rand’s knife hand. Bone cracked.
Rand grunted with pain and dropped his weapon. He clutched at his injured wrist and stared at Lucas, eyes slitted with fury. “Get him, Dancer. Get the bastard. Hurry. We got money ridin’ on this.”
Dancer was already moving forward with his peculiar gait. His knife wove an intricate pattern in the air. Lucas recognized the fighting style. And the talent.
“You were wrong, Amaryllis,” he said softly. “Dancer has spent some time in the islands. Long enough to pick up the Knife Dance. Isn’t that right, Dancer?”
“Damn right. I was there three years ago.” Dancer’s eyes glinted. “Nearly took the islands, we did. If it hadn’t been for you, Trent, me and the others would’ve been runnin’ the whole show by now.”
“He knows who you are,” Amaryllis whispered.
“Stop talkin’ and rip him open,” Rand screamed. “We won’t get paid if we don’t finish this.”
“With pleasure. Link.” Dancer leaped at Lucas. The knife darted about in dazzling, almost hypnotic movements.
Lucas estimated that Dancer was a class-five or perhaps a six talent. He was more than just a skilled knife dancer. He had a gift for hand-to-hand fighting techniques. Rand was obviously working as his prism tonight.
“Dear God.” Amaryllis had apparently just realized that they were facing a talent-prism fighting team.
“Run,” Lucas ordered. He kept his full attention on Dancer. “Get out of here, Amaryllis. Head for the strip.”
The trick to dealing with a knife dancer was to ignore the blade. The movements were calculated to be simultaneously terrifying and entrancing. The snakelike motions held the attention of the victim until the dancer was ready to slash.
Lucas edged back a few steps. He switched his gaze to Dancer’s feet in order to avoid the entrancing movements of the knife. He groped for and found the metal lid of the garbage can.
Lucas swept the can lid around in a wide arc just as Dancer leaped. The knife blade clashed dissonantly against the makeshift metal shield.
Dancer hissed and tried to scramble back out of reach. Lucas gave him no chance to recover his balance. He went in low and fast, using the lid as both armor and weapon.
“Bastard. I’m gonna kill you, Trent.” Dancer tried and failed to sidestep the garbage can lid. It caught him on the shoulder with enough force to cause him to stumble.
Lucas discarded the lid and seized Dancer’s knife arm. He twisted hard. Something cracked.
Dancer screamed in pain. The knife clattered to the pavement. Lucas slammed a fist into Dancer’s jaw. The knife dancer crumpled.
“Lucas,” Amaryllis called. “Behind you.”
A roar of rage made Lucas spin around. He saw Rand bearing down on him. The irrational glitter in the man’s eyes was visible even in the weak light. Rand’s face was contorted into a grotesque mask. He had another knife in his fist. Must have grabbed it from his boot, Lucas thought.
Lucas braced himself, but at that moment Amaryllis took a step forward, away from the brick wall. She raised a large object that she had apparently retrieved from the garbage can. It looked like a small wooden packing crate.
She waited until Rand’s maddened charge had carried him one step past where she stood. She raised the packing crate on high and then brought it down hard against the back of Rand’s skull.
Rand lost his footing and sprawled forward. His face made forceful contact with the sidewalk. He twitched but did not move.
Lucas glanced at Rand, aware of the adrenaline flowing through his veins. He remembered the sensation all too well. He looked at Amaryllis and grinned. “We make a good team.”
Amaryllis ignored him. Her gaze was riveted at a point just beyond Lucas’s shoulder. “Lucas.”
Lucas heard them. He turned his head to glance briefly at the three figures who were sauntering cautiously out of the shadows of a doorway. The noise of the skirmish had drawn would-be opportunists in the same way that the struggles of a wounded animal d
rew hopeful scavengers.
Lucas grabbed Amaryllis’s hand. “Time to leave.”
“Definitely.”
She ran with him toward the car, which Lucas judged to be closer than the safety of the main strip.
He risked another glance over his shoulder as they pounded down the street. The new arrivals were still milling about, apparently trying to decide upon a course of action. He hoped that they would opt to go through Rand’s and Dancer’s pockets rather than try to run down the escaping prey. A tough decision, but someone had to make it.
He spotted the two men lounging against the fender of the Icer when he and Amaryllis were still half a block away.
“Five hells.” This whole thing was starting to look a little too organized for his peace of mind. The tactics were not unlike the ones the pirates had used in the islands. He wondered how many of the riffraff had escaped after the main force had been routed.
“This way.” He yanked Amaryllis around the corner of a building.
“There they go.” One of the men leaning against the Icer straightened. “Shit, they’re getting away. After ’em.”
Lucas drew Amaryllis past several darkened doorways. She was breathing quickly, but she was keeping up with him. They bred them for endurance in the country, he reflected. He would have been dragging a city-born lady along the sidewalk by now.
He spotted the deep darkness of a nearby alley. He hesitated briefly, but when he heard the sound of pounding footsteps closing in swiftly from behind, he knew he had to evaluate the limited options. He wasn’t president of a major corporation for nothing. He knew how to make executive decisions.
He pulled Amaryllis into the alley. It took approximately three seconds for him to realize that there was no opening at the far end. By then it was too late. The footfalls of their pursuers were too close.
Then again, Jackson had always told him that he wasn’t executive material.
“We’re trapped,” Amaryllis breathed.
Lucas pressed her back against the nearest brick wall. “I hope you’re as good as you keep telling me you are.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Link.” Lucas grabbed her hand. He needed all the power he could get.