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TWENTY-SIX
A group of people were standing on the hotel steps, looking at the fire, which roared into the nighttime sky just two blocks away. They paid Blaine no notice. There was no sign of police.
“Some more reefer business,” said one man to another.
The other nodded. “You wonder how their minds work,” he said. “They’ll go and trade there in the daytime, then sneak back and burn the place at night.”
“I swear to God,” said the first man, “I don’t see why Fishhook put up with it. They needn’t simply stand and take it.”
“Fishhook doesn’t care,” the other told him. “I spent five years in Fishhook. I tell you, the place is weird.”
Newsmen, Blaine told himself. A hotel crammed full of newsmen come to cover what Fi
Blaine went up the steps and into the empty lobby. He jammed his fists into his jacket pockets so that no one could spot the bruised and bloody knuckles.
The hotel was an old one and its lobby furnishings, he judged, had not been changed for years. The place was faded and old-fashioned and it had the faint, sour smell of many people who had lived short hours beneath its roof.
A few people sat here and there, reading papers or simply sitting and staring into space, with the bored look of waiting imprinted on their faces.
Blaine glanced at the clock above the desk and it was 11:30.
He went on past the desk, heading for the elevator and the stairs beyond.
“Shep!”
Blaine spun around.
A man had heaved himself out of a huge leather chair and was lumbering across the lobby toward him.
Blaine waited until the man came up and all the time there were little insect feet ru
The man stuck out his hand.
Blaine took his right hand from his pocket and showed it to him.
“Fell down,” he said. “Stumbled in the dark.”
The man looked at the hand. “You better get that washed up,” he said.
“That’s what I intend to do.”
“You know me, don’t you?” the man demanded. “Bob Collins. Met you a couple of times in Fishhook. Down at the Red Ghost Bar.”
“Yes, of course,” Blaine said, uncomfortably. “I know you now. You slipped my mind at first. How are you?”
“Getting along all right. Sore that they pulled me out of Fishhook, but you get all sorts of breaks, mostly lousy, in this newspaper racket.”
“You’re out here to cover Fi
Collins nodded. “How about yourself?”
“I’m going up to see him.”
“You’ll be lucky if you get to see him. He up in 210. Got a big tough bruiser sitting just outside his door.”
“I think he’ll see me.”
Collins cocked his head. “Heard you took it on the lam. Just grapevine stuff.”
“You heard it right,” said Blaine.
“You don’t look so good,” said Collins. “Don’t be offended, but I got an extra buck or two . . .”
Blaine laughed.
“A drink, perhaps?”
“No. I must hurry and see Fi
“You with him?”
“Well, not exactly . . .”
“Look, Shep, we were good pals back there in Fishhook. Can you give me what you know? Anything at all. Do a good job on this one, they might send me back to Fishhook. There’s nothing I want worse.”
Blaine shook his head.
“Look, Shep, there are all sorts of rumors. There was a truck went off the road down by the river. There was something in that truck, something that was terribly important to Fi
“I don’t know a thing.”
Collins moved closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “This is big, Shep. If Fi
“You forgot that I’m a parry.”
“So was Lambert Fi
“There’s too much hate,” Blaine said wearily. “There are too many derogatory labels. The reformers call the paranormal people parries, and the parries call the reformers reefers. And you don’t give a damn. You don’t care which way it goes. You wouldn’t go out and hunt someone to his death. But you’ll write about it. You’ll spread the blood across the page. And you don’t care where it comes from, just so it is blood.”
“For the love of God, Shep . . .”
“So I will give you something. You can say that Fi
“Shep, you’re kidding me!”
“He won’t dare show you what he’s got.”
“What is it that he’s got?”
“Something that, if he showed it, would make him out a fool. I tell you, he won’t dare to show it. Tomorrow morning Lambert Fi
“I can’t write that. You know I can’t. . . .”
“Tomorrow noon,” Blaine told him, “everyone will be writing it. If you start right now, you can catch the last morning editions. You’ll scoop the world — if you’ve got the guts to do it.”
“You’re giving me straight dope? You’re—”
“Make up your mind,” said Blaine. “It’s true, every word of it. It is up to you. Now I’ve got to get along.”
Collins hesitated. “Thanks, Shep,” he said. “Thanks an awful lot.”
Blaine left him standing there, went past the elevator and turned up the stairs.
He came to the second floor and there, at the end of the left-hand corridor a man sat in a chair tilted back against the wall.
Blaine paced purposefully down the corridor. As he came closer, the guard tilted forward in his chair and came to his feet.
He put his hand out against Blaine’s chest.
“Just a minute, mister.”
“It’s urgent I see Fi
“He ain’t seeing no one, mister.”
“You’ll give him a message?”
“Not at this hour, I won’t.”
“Tell him I’m from Stone.”
“But Stone—”
“Just tell him I’m from Stone.”
The man stood undecided. Then he let his arm drop.
“You wait right here,” he said. “I’ll go in and ask him. Don’t try no fu
“That’s all right. I’ll wait.”
He waited, wondering just how smart he was to wait. In the half-dark, rancid corridor he felt the ancient doubt. Maybe, he told himself, he should simply turn around and walk rapidly away.
The man came out.
“Stand still,” he commanded. “I’ve got to run you down.”
Expert hands went over Blaine, seeking knife or gun.
The man nodded, satisfied. “You’re clean,” he said. “You can go on in. I’ll be right outside the door.”
“I understand,” Blaine told him.
The guard opened the door, and Blaine went through it. The room was furnished as a living room. Beyond it was a bedroom.
There was a desk across the room, and a man stood behind the desk. He was clad in funeral black with a white scarf at this throat and he was tall. His face was long and bony and made one think of a winter-gaunted horse, but there was a hard, stern purpose to him that was somehow frightening.
Blaine walked steadily forward until he reached the desk.
“You are Fi
“Lambert Fi