Nightrise (4 page)

"What now?" the woman asked.

"I'd like something from your handbag," Jamie said. It was another mistake. Normally, at this point, he went back into the audience. He wished this woman hadn't forced herself onto him.

"I don't have a handbag," the woman said.

That got a few laughs from the audience. But it was hostile. They were laughing at him, not with him.

"Then give me something else," Jamie said. "Just don't say what it is."

"How about this?" The woman reached into her back pocket and took out a photograph, the size of a postcard. Jamie took it. He found himself looking at a black-and-white picture of a nine- or ten-year-old boy. It was obvious this was the woman's son. Jamie could see the resemblance. The boy's hair was much shorter but he had the same thoughtful eyes and slightly feminine mouth.

Jamie held it. He realized he was waiting for Scott to speak. Normally Scott identified the object the moment Jamie had it in his hand. Then it would be on to the wallet, the deck of playing cards, the driver's license, and out before the final curtain. But Scott hadn't spoken.

"Scott — what am I holding?" Jamie asked. He had broken the rules that Don White had taught him. If he said anything, the audience would always assume he was using some sort of code. It was better to remain silent.

"I…don't know." Scott turned his head as if he was trying to look through the blindfold and the hood.

Jamie felt the floor opening up beneath him. Something had gone wrong. He glanced at his brother and felt the tension. Scott's arms were pressed against his sides, his fists clenched.

"It's a picture." Desperately, Jamie tried to help him. "What's it a picture of?"

And then Scott cried out. He raised a hand and touched his fingers against his forehead as if in pain. "His name is Daniel," he said. "And he's gone. It's your fault. You're still blaming yourself for letting them take him."

It was Scott's voice but it didn't sound like him. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

And then the woman stepped forward and snatched the photograph back, and when Jamie looked up at her he saw real anger, flaring in her eyes. "Where is he?" she demanded. "What do you know?"

"I don't know anything!" The whole theatre seemed to be spinning. The lights were burning into him.

Jamie just wanted to get off the stage.

"Tell me what you know!"

"I've told you…"

"Ladies and gentlemen…Scott and Jamie Tyler, the telepathic twins!" Frank Kirby had been watching from the wings, still in the costume of Mr. Marvano, master illusionist. He had decided to come to the rescue, walking on and clapping his hands at the same time. About half the audience joined in. They had seen something but they weren't sure what. Certainly the trick with the newspapers had been quite effective. But the trick with the photograph had failed. Or had it? The woman in the white shirt certainly looked shaken. Had the twins correctly identified the boy in the photograph…and if so, where was he?

The show was over. Jamie took hold of Scott and dragged him into the wings, at the same time pulling off the blindfold. Frank showed the woman off the stage and went into the final speech that always brought down the curtain.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight you have traveled with us to some of the farthest corners of the human mind…"

But nobody was listening. The woman was back in her seat, deep in thought. Banes and Hovey were a few rows behind her, unmoving, detached. Quite a few people in the audience were already gathering up their jackets and bags, on their way out. The music was playing again, drowning out Frank's words.

Even when the show went well, it was disappointing. Tonight it had been a complete failure.

Don White was waiting offstage.

As Jamie walked out of the spotlights, the scowling face of "Uncle Don" was the first thing he saw. He realized that Don must have been there throughout the entire act and flinched, waiting for the backhand across his face or perhaps the fat fingers grabbing at his throat. Don certainly didn't look pleased. "What happened out there?" he demanded. His thick lips were turned down in an angry scowl.

"I don't know," Jamie answered. "It went wrong."

"It was your brother. He screwed it up."

'Yeah. That's right. It was me." Scott took a step forward. Instinctively, he had put himself between Don White and his brother: Like he always did.

Jamie waited to see what was going to happen. But tonight there was to be no violence. Don shrugged, his huge shoulders and arms rising and falling, his palms facing out. "All right. Let's just forget it," he said. "I'll see you two later. Go and wait for me in your room." He turned to the other performers, who had gathered around, wondering what had gone wrong. "The rest of you, I want you out of here. Let's close up for the night."

Jamie followed his brother back to the dressing room. It looked as if there wasn't going to be any trouble after all. If Don was going to hit them, he'd have done it then and there. Together, they went into the room, not even bothering to close the door. They took their time getting changed. The house where they were living — with Don and Marcie — was a twenty-minute drive away, and most nights they went there with Don. It was only when he decided to stay for a drink, or to throw away some money in one of the casinos, that they took the number 11 bus to Victorian Square and walked the rest of the way.

Frank Kirby passed the door on his way out. They had worked with him for two years but they hardly knew anything about him. He didn't speak much and he never smiled. He smoked too much. He was usually the last to leave.

"Good night, kids," he rasped.

They heard him make his way down the corridor. The stage door groaned open and then clanged shut.

Don White would be in his office, having a last drink, talking on the phone to Marcie. Otherwise they were on their own.

Jamie leaned down and tied up his laces. There was a hole in his sneaker. He could see through to his bare foot inside. "What happened?" he asked. "What did you see…out on the stage?"

"I don't know." Scott bit his lip.

'You said you saw someone called Daniel. You said he'd been taken."

"Jamie, I don't want to talk about it. Okay?"

"Sure…"Jamie looked at his brother in dismay.

Scott let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you." He shook his head. "Something's happening. I don't know what it is. But something's wrong…"

"What do you mean?"

"Tonight. That woman. Everything…" Scott ran a hand through his hair. It was thick with sweat.

"Listen, Jamie. I've got a-bad feeling. Maybe you're going to have to look out for yourself…"

"Why? Scott? What is it?"

It was the dog that warned them.

The theatre should have been empty. The theatre was empty in that all the other performers had gone, leaving only the twins behind. But what Don White had forgotten was that Frank Kirby was staying in a boardinghouse that didn't allow dogs, so every night he left Jagger in his dressing room. The German shepherd slept on a mat and normally no one would notice that it was there.

But something had disturbed it. Scott heard a low growling that suddenly rose, loud and threatening. It was coming from the corridor. Jamie looked up. He had never heard Jagger like that before. Scott raised a hand, signaling his brother to stay where he was, then stepped out of the door. And that was when he saw them.

Two men. One bald, one dark. Both in brown suits. Scott hadn't seen them in the audience but Jamie had. He recognized them at once, knew where they had come from. At the same time, he registered with a shock of disbelief that the bald man was holding a strange-looking gun.

Scott stared at them. They had seen him the moment he had appeared in the corridor but they couldn't reach him. The dog was between them, its hackles raised and its teeth bared. Jagger was ten years old. It slept most of the time. But now, suddenly, it had changed. It was as if the dog had discovered the savage animal it might once have been. It was about to attack. There could be no doubt of it.

Scott realized instantly that he and his brother were in danger. He didn't know who the men were or why they were here, but he knew he had to get away and had only seconds in which to do it.

"Jamie! Come here!"

He didn't shout the words. He thought them. But it had the same effect. Jamie burst out of the room and saw the two men just as Jagger let out a final snarl and leaped into the air. Banes fired the gun — not a bullet but some sort of dart. It hit Jagger in the neck. The dog screamed. Scott pushed Jamie ahead of him and the two of them began to run. Behind them, Jagger was still arcing toward the two attackers.

The end of the dart — tufts of black feather — stuck out of the fur below its ear, but it was still conscious, snapping at the two men, snarling and barking. Kyle Hovey cried out as the dog sank its teeth into his arm and began to tear at his flesh. But then Banes got hold of it. His hands clamped down on the animal's head, holding it down against the floor. Jagger tried to reach him, tried to get back onto its feet.

But then the drug, whatever it was inside the dart, took effect. Its eyes glazed and it lay still.

The boys still hadn't reached the corner of the corridor. Banes had dropped the gun when he had dealt with the dog but now he snatched it up, aimed, and fired. The dart missed Scott by an inch and bounced off the wall. Banes didn't have time to fire again. The boys had disappeared. White-faced, furious, he turned to Hovey, who was cradling his arm, half buried underneath the unconscious animal.

"After them!" he hissed.

Hovey stumbled to his feet. Banes reloaded his gun, pressing two more darts into the chamber. The two men set off even as the stage door clanged open ahead of them.

Jamie had reached the parking lot between the theatre and the motel. One end led onto Virginia Street with one of the casinos — Circus —just opposite. The other tapered into a narrow alleyway leading to the quieter streets behind. There was nobody in sight. A few cars, belonging to the motel guests, had been left in the lot. The motel office, a box-like room looking out onto the main road, was closed with a no vacancies sign in the window. Jamie came to a halt. The heavy night air seemed to fall onto him, instantly draining his strength. What was going on? Scott had called him…but he had done it telepathically. It had been like a knife going into his head. And then the two men from the audience. One of them with a gun. Jagger…

"Scott!" he cried out and at once he was angry with himself. He wasn't helping. He had no idea what to do. As always, he depended entirely on his brother.

Scott wasn't going to let him down. While Jamie stood there doing nothing, he had snatched up a coil of electrical wire that had been left on top of a Dumpster. He had already slammed the stage door shut and was twisting the wire around the handles. Now the door wouldn't open from the inside. He had bought them time. The two men — whoever they were — would have to go around the front.

"Who are they?" Jamie cried. "I saw them. They were in the theatre. They came twice."

"Not now," Scott rasped. "We have to move…"

It was already too late. Even as Jamie watched, a car appeared, a black Mustang racing down the alleyway toward them. There was a driver and another man in the passenger seat, and there could be no doubt that they had been waiting for the boys to come out.

Jamie froze. Scott leaned down and picked up one of the trash cans. It was full and must have weighed a ton, but maybe desperation had given him extra strength. As the car sped toward them, he threw it. The trash can didn't travel far — but the speeding car did their work for them. The can smashed into the windshield. Glass shattered. Scott and Jamie threw themselves aside as the car rocketed toward them.

Rotten vegetables and leftovers showered down as the trash can rolled across the hood. They heard the metal door panels crumpling as the car slammed into the side of the theatre. Then it swerved away and smashed into the motel office on the other side. An alarm went off. The car came to a hissing, shuddering halt.

The two boys had hit the ground and rolled out of harm's way. Jamie was the first to his feet. He reached out for Scott and helped him up. For a brief moment, he wondered if the driver of the car and his passenger had been knocked out or even killed. But his hopes were dashed when the car doors opened and two men staggered out, one of them with blood oozing from a cut in his head, but both otherwise unhurt.

"Move!" Scott commanded, and Jamie and he set off, making for Virginia Street. They had to get out into the open where there would be other people, witnesses. But as they went, Jamie felt something streak past his ear and realized that one of the men had fired another dart. At least it wasn't a bullet. The plan was to take the two boys alive. But what then? What had brought these people to the theatre in Reno? For years, nobody had cared about him and Scott. Why was all this happening now?

The boys reached the main street and suddenly the darkness of the parking lot gave way to the brilliance of the Reno night. The casinos were illuminated by a thousand lights: flashing, spinning, rotating, cascading, doing anything they could to draw people in. There was the casino called Circus Circus with its huge clown, pink and blue plastic, over thirty feet high. It was holding a lollipop that rotated in its hand, advertising the games inside. The Eldorado was farther down the street on a corner, its entrance illuminated by a never-ending firework display of multicolored lights. Jamie couldn't see anyone on the sidewalk, but there were a few cars, their headlights pushing back what little night remained. Which way? Jamie looked around desperately. He had no idea. He didn't know how many people were chasing him and there was nowhere to hide.

Scott cried out. The front doors of the theatre had burst open and the two men who had started it all had emerged into the street. Jamie was prepared to run but then he saw that his brother was standing quite still, one hand against his chin as if he had a bad toothache. His face was completely white. Slowly, the hand fell and Jamie saw the black tufts of a dart sticking out of his cheek.