Holy Terror

by Graham Masterton

  Conor climaxed too. For a split second he felt as if the whole world had gone black, like a camera shutter. The pleasure was so intense that he said something, but he didn’t know what it was.

  Lacey went on shaking and shaking until she finally fell forward and he held her in his arms. They lay like that until the clocks started to chime three. Conor said softly in Lacey’s ear, ‘It’s OK. You’re awake now.’

  She opened one eye and looked at him for a while. Then she said, ‘No, I’m not. I’m asleep.’

  Conor didn’t wake up until 9:15. The sun was lying in bars across the bed. Lacey was still asleep, her arm resting awkwardly on his hip.

  Carefully he climbed out of bed and opened the drawer that Sebastian had given him to keep his clothes in. Ric had done the laundry yesterday and everything was neat and pressed and folded. He remembered watching The Fugitive and wondering what Dr Richard Kimble had done for clean shorts.

  He dressed and went through to the kitchen. Sidney and Eleanor were already there, drinking coffee with Sebastian and Ric.

  ‘Sleep well?’ asked Sebastian archly.

  ‘Pretty good, thanks.’

  ‘Eleanor’s been regaling us with all kinds of fascinating gossip, haven’t you, Eleanor?’

  ‘She should write her autobiography,’ put in Ric. ‘She knows more dirt about Broadway than anyone I ever met.’

  Sebastian poured Conor a mug of coffee. ‘Well … today’s the day you’re going to go looking for Hypnos and Hetti, yes?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Ric and I were talking about it last night and we think we ought to come with you.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Sebastian. This could turn out to be very dangerous.’

  ‘Believe me, you won’t get backstage at the Rialto without us, especially when they’re rehearsing. They’re very strict about their security.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know. I think that I’ve disrupted your lives quite enough, don’t you?’

  ‘Conor, sweetheart. The sooner you find these people the sooner we can all get back to our normal humdrum lives, and the sooner Lacey can stop worrying that you might get killed at any moment.’

  At that moment Lacey came in, buttoning up her shirt. ‘That sounds good to me.’ She came up to Conor and put her arm around him. Conor turned to Sidney. ‘What’s your opinion?’

  ‘I guess there’s no harm in it,’ Sidney shrugged. ‘It could help to put Hypnos and Hetti off balance, too. It’s pretty difficult to hypnotize four people simultaneously, even if you’re as good as they are.’

  ‘OK, then. But listen here, Sebastian: I’m going to be calling the shots, you got it? If I tell you to get the hell out, then I expect you to get the hell out, no questions asked.’

  ‘You’re so masterful,’ said Sebastian.

  They finished their coffee and Lacey brushed her hair up and put on her coat and her shirt and tie. She took hold of Conor’s hand and kissed him. ‘I don’t have to tell you to take care, do I?’

  ‘Don’t worry … I’m not going to do anything stupid. And this time I’ve got the jump on them.’

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Ric. ‘The emerald-green pants with the sapphire shirt or the white calico pants with the daffodil polo?’

  Chapter 15

  They asked the doorman to hail them a taxi and waited inside the lobby until he managed to flag one down. Conor kissed Lacey and said, ‘I’ll call you later. Don’t worry … everything’s going to work out fine.’

  She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. She pushed her way out through the revolving door and walked off in the direction of Fifth Avenue without looking back. Not for the first time, Conor found himself thinking that she deserved better than him – a younger man, with his career ahead of him. Somebody who really knew who he was, and where he fitted into the world.

  The doorman let out a piercing whistle and beckoned to them. ‘Our carriage awaits,’ said Ric, and they hurried across the sidewalk and climbed into the taxi.

  The humidity was even more oppressive than the day before. Crowded together in the back of the taxi they were soon sweltering and sticking to the black vinyl seats. The cab driver had run an old vacuum-cleaner hose from the front air-conditioning vents into the back, but all it did was pour out a stream of tepid, second-hand air.

  All the way, the cab driver kept up an endless complaint that religion was to blame for everything that was wrong with the world. ‘The Methodists hate the Catholics and the Catholics hate the Jews and everybody hates the Muslims. If you ask me, that Branch guy’s got it right.’

  ‘What Branch guy?’ asked Ric.

  ‘That Branch guy. That terrorist. He says that everybody oughtta be the same religion.’

  ‘Oh, him,’ said Sebastian. ‘They had something about him on the news this morning. He’s raving. He’s the kind of guy who gives lunatics a bad name.’

  They reached the side entrance to the Rialto Theater on West 45th. Conor climbed out of the taxi and mopped his forehead and his neck with his balled-up handkerchief. He checked the street while Sebastian paid the fare. There was a hot dog stand at the intersection of 45th and Broadway, but the hot dog seller was hugely fat, with a pink Hawaiian shirt and Coke-bottle glasses, and Conor didn’t think it was likely that he was an undercover cop.

  Sidney laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Try to clear your mind of everything except your principal objective. Keep your attention locked onto it at all times, and don’t let anybody or anything distract you or confuse you. You are going into this theater to find Hypnos and Hetti. That’s it.’

  Conor said, ‘All right, then. Let’s do it.’

  Ric rang the doorbell. They waited for over a minute and nobody answered so he rang it a second time. Conor could feel the perspiration sliding down his back and he had to mop his forehead again. At last the door opened and an elderly black man with grizzled gray hair looked around it. He blinked at Ric in astonishment.

  ‘Well how about that?’ he cackled, and gave Ric a leathery high five. ‘Mr Ric Vetter, how about that? I haven’t seen you since Bus Stop. And your friend here, Mr Sebastian Speed, how are you, sir?’

  ‘Ex-quiz-seet as always, thank you, Sammy.’

  ‘Anything I can do for you gentlemen? We’re smack in the middle of rehoisal right now, most everybody’s kind of tied up.’

  Behind Sammy, inside the theater, Conor could faintly hear music playing and the random thunder of dancers’ feet. Ric said, ‘We were looking for some old friends of ours, as a matter of fact. Lost their address. Somebody told me they were hanging out someplace here.’

  ‘There’s all kinds of people come and go. What’s their names, these old friends of yours?’

  ‘There’s two of them. Ramon Perez, he’s a real dapper little guy, Cuban. Then there’s Magda Slanic, she’s tall, almost six feet. Black eyes like coalholes. They used to do a stage hypnotism act called Hypnos and Hetti.’

  Sammy slowly shook his head. ‘There’s nobody like that hanging out here. I would’ve seen them if they was. I’m here for most of the day and it’s one of my jobs to lock the place up when they finish their rehoisals.’

  ‘Maybe you made a mistake about what musical it was,’ Conor suggested to Ric.

  ‘No, no. It was Franklin, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘That’s what they’re rehoising now,’ Sammy nodded. ‘Franklin. Not my kind of music. Gives me the deep-down dyspepsha.’

  Sidney stepped forward and held out his hand. ‘Sammy … you don’t mind if I call you Sammy?’

  ‘Why should I mind? That’s what my name is.’

  ‘Well, Sammy, my name’s Sidney and I was wondering if you ever saw me before.’

  Sammy frowned. ‘Can’t say that I have.’

  ‘Never mind. You don’t have to remember me even if you do.’

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘I’m just thinking about something that may be on the very extreme edge of your vision, Sammy – something that you c
an only see if you turn your eyes as far sideways as they can possibly go.’

  Sammy was still frowning but he turned his eyes as if he were trying to see inside of his own head. Sidney said, in his calm, dry voice, ‘It’s possible that you’ve seen something but somebody’s told you to forget it.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I don’t understand how that could be.’

  ‘Two people, Sammy. A man and a very tall woman. They talked to you the same way that I’m talking to you now. You have a better memory of them than you know about.’

  ‘I don’t know … I kind of think that maybe I did see them, yes.’

  ‘Think about something that puzzled you when they talked to you. Something about the way they looked.’

  ‘The man … the man, he was wearing gloves. I thought it was pretty strange that he was wearing gloves.’

  ‘I want you to take hold of that man’s hand. Do you remember taking hold of that man’s hand?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I remember.’

  ‘I want you to look around you … I want you to tell me where you’re standing.’

  ‘I’m standing in dressing-room eleven.’

  ‘And what can you see, when you look around you?’

  ‘A dressing-table … a chair … a television set… a coupla valises … some clothes hanging up. An ironing board. All the dressing-rooms got ironing boards.’

  ‘Is there anybody else in the dressing-room with you?’

  Sammy nodded, his eyes distant. ‘For sure … there’s a woman sitting on the bed.’

  ‘There’s a bed in dressing-room eleven?’

  ‘That’s right. They use it when there’s a matinée. Get some sleep in between shows. Or maybe later, to screw some stagedoor groupie, you know?’

  ‘The woman on the bed … describe her.’

  ‘She’s wearing this kind of black corset. Pinches her waist in like a Coke bottle. She’s rolling down her stocking, you know, and she’s looking at me and she’s smiling this real strange smile. I can’t tell you why but she reminds me of a spider and I’m like a fly that’s caught in her web.’

  ‘Is the man talking to you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Tell me what he’s saying.’

  ‘He’s saying that I’m going to wake up, and that when I wake up I won’t remember that he was here, and I won’t remember that the woman was here either, and I won’t even remember that dressing-room eleven even exists. When I see the door with eleven on it, I won’t see no door, all I’ll see is a plain blank wall.’

  Sebastian was simultaneously blowing his nose and shaking his head in amazement. ‘This is just incredible, isn’t it?’

  Sidney said, ‘Sammy … when I count to five you’re going to wake up and you’re going to remember all of this conversation quite clearly.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I understand, sir.’

  ‘One, two, three, four, five. You’re awake.’

  Sammy stared at all of them with a suspicious look on his face, as if he had just missed the point of a joke. ‘What?’ he demanded.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Ric. ‘We’re just pleased that we’ve found our friends.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘Sure … the people in dressing-room eleven. Ramon Perez and Magda Slanic.’

  ‘Oh, yes! That’s right! They came last week! Hypnos and Hetti! I used to know them from way back! Did you ever see that act they did when they made this woman think that she was in love with a codfish? I mean, they used to be something!’

  ‘Are they here now?’ asked Conor.

  ‘Hetti is, for sure. I don’t know where Hypnos went.’

  ‘OK if we go in and talk to her?’

  ‘Why not? I’ll show you the way.’

  He opened the door wider and let them all in. As Sidney passed him by, he said, ‘I know you, don’t I? I’m sure I know you.’

  ‘You do now,’ smiled Sidney, and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

  He led them past his office with its coffee percolator and its untidy heaps of programs and its signed photographs of dozens of toothily grinning stars. ‘For Sammy … you’re an ace … Gene Wilder’, ‘From one Sammy to another … all the best … Sammy Davis Fr.’ They climbed a flight of concrete steps and then walked along a corridor that took them behind the stage.

  Conor thought: every profession has its smell, and the theater is no exception. Dust, sweat, emulsion paint, overheating lamps. The stage itself was brightly lit in pinks and blues and some of the company of Franklin were standing around in leotards, stretching their ankles and arching their backs and striking poses. A slim girl in a black T-shirt and black leggings was standing stage right and singing.

  ‘For want of a nail

  The horse lost his shoe…

  For want of a forgiving heart, what did I do?

  I lost you …’

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Sammy, standing close beside Conor and nodding at the girl. ‘Not exactly Rodgers and Hart, is it?’

  Conor listened for a moment longer and then he said, ‘I don’t know … I’m not sure about turning Poor Richard’s Almanac into a song, but the music’s catchy.’

  ‘Ten dollars it closes on the first night. I’ve never been wrong.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Sebastian, ‘let’s get going. This song is making my bicuspids ache.’

  They crossed the back of the stage and Sammy took them up another flight of stairs to the dressing-rooms. Most of them were empty. In one, a young woman in jeans and a white powdered wig was staring at herself in a make-up mirror, pulling down the plum-colored bags under her eyes with the tips of her fingers.

  ‘Not another hangover, Carla?’ Sammy remarked, as he passed her by.

  ‘Couldn’t sleep, Sammy. I had that dream again, the one where I’m drowning in molasses.’

  They reached the end of the corridor and there, facing them, was the green-painted door for dressing-room eleven. It was about an inch ajar and Conor could smell Balkan cigarette smoke and hear the intermittent blurting of laughter from a television comedy show. This was one moment when he badly missed his gun.

  Sammy lifted his fist to knock on the door but Conor caught his arm. ‘We want this to be a surprise, OK?’

  ‘A surprise? OK by me.’

  ‘What’s the plan?’ asked Sidney.

  ‘The plan is, there is no plan. I’ll push open the door and roll into the room. You stay well clear until I’ve made sure that neither of them is armed. Then, in you go, and grab them.’

  Sammy said, ‘Here, here, here! Wait up a cotton-pickin’ minute! Armed? What’s this armed?’

  Conor laid a reassuring arm around his shoulders. ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about, Sammy. I want you to keep out of the way, that’s all, in case Ramon loses his sense of humor.’

  ‘You said he was your friend.’

  ‘Well, he is and he isn’t. You know how friendships can be. One day you’re best buddies, the next day you want to rip each other’s heads off.’

  ‘What’s really going down here?’ asked Sammy. ‘Come on, folks, this is my theater. I’m responsible. I want to know the truth.’

  Sidney came up to him. ‘Relax. You’re completely relaxed. Absolutely nothing is wrong. You have a strong urge to go to your office and make yourself a cup of coffee.’

  ‘Sure. I’ll just go make myself a cup of coffee.’

  Sammy turned and walked off and Sidney said, ‘There. Let’s get on with it, shall we?’

  ‘I still don’t know how you do that so easy,’ said Conor.

  Sidney shrugged. ‘You’ll learn.’

  Conor stepped up to the door and prepared to shoulder it open. Sebastian and Ric stood close behind him.

  ‘You ready for this?’ asked Conor. Both of them nodded.

  But at that moment the door opened and Magda Slanic appeared, with a sparkling black scarf wound around her head like a turban and a long black satin robe. She looked even taller than Conor remembered her, as tall as he was, so that she
was staring him directly in the eye; and her face was as white as the moon on a winter’s night. A black-papered cigarette dangled from her lip and a sparkling diamond cross hung in her cleavage.

  ‘Well, well,’ she said. ‘Chief Conor O’Neil. How quickly you have found us.’

  Conor thought: don’t let her distract you. Don’t let her confuse you. There’s only one issue here, and that’s to nail Hypnos and Hetti and retrieve the contents of those safety deposit boxes.

  ‘Ramon not here?’ asked Conor, peering into the dressing-room behind her. It was catastrophically untidy. The bed was unmade and clothes were heaped all over the couch – dress-shirts, Armani coats, filmy black lace bras, bias-cut evening gowns. Bottles of cosmetics littered the dressing-table, as well as lipsticks and eyeliner brushes. Empty bottles of Smirnoff Black Label and discarded Entenmann’s cake cartons showed that Hypnos and Hetti had actually been living here.

  ‘Ramon went out. He had business to take care of. Who are your friends?’ She looked at Sebastian and Ric and Sidney and she didn’t say it out loud but her expression said, ‘Weird.’

  Conor said, ‘This isn’t a social call, Ms Slanic. I want all that stuff back from the safety deposit boxes at Spurr’s.’

  ‘You think we took it? What makes you think we took it?’

  ‘Careful, Conor,’ said Sidney; and Conor realized that he was alerting him to Hetti’s induction technique. Ask a confusing question: make the subject turn his attention inward. Catch him off balance.

  ‘I know you have it,’ said Conor, flatly. ‘I’m here to give you a chance: hand it all over and 111 give you and Ramon twenty-four hours to get the hell out of New York City before I sic the cops on you.’

  ‘You only think we have it. You don’t have any way of knowing for sure.’

  ‘Oh, no? If it isn’t you, then who else could possibly have it?’

  ‘Who else had access to your safety deposit boxes?’

  Shit, thought Conor. She’s good. She’s making me think. She’s putting me off track.

  Sidney could tell what was happening. ‘You’re tense,’ he told Hetti. ‘You’re trying to pretend that you’re relaxed but you’re totally wired. Why don’t you try to calm down and see if we can deal with this situation like grown-up people.’