bank vault. Niles pressed a little beeper clipped to his belt, and electronic locks disengaged. Disinfectant filled the entrance foyer, which led to a honeycomb of rooms and corridors, most of which were underground. As Niles closed the door behind him, he failed to notice the fly that circled quickly above his head and flew off through a faint swirl of air-cleansing chemicals.
He found Mr. Krepsin in his study, talking to Thomas Alvarado, a gaunt dark-skinned man with a diamond in his right earlobe.
'Twenty-six?' Krepsin, wearing a white caftan and surgical gloves, was saying as he ate from a plate of Oreo cookies. 'Ready to come across by when?'
'Next week. Thursday at the latest. We're bringing them in a truckload of uncured iguana hides. They'll have to bear the stink, but at least the
Krepsin grunted and nodded. The cheap Mexican labor that Alvarado provided was used by Ten High in a number of ways, from the orange groves to the Sundown Ranch in Nevada. On the floor beside Krepsin's chair was a can of film, another gift from Alvarado, who owned a motion-picture studio that cranked out cheap westerns, horror films, and martial-arts gore-fests. 'How is he, Mr. Niles?'
'Sleeping. He'll be ready.'
'A secret project?' Alvarado asked.
'In a manner of speaking,' Krepsin said. Behind his desk was a stack of newspapers, all carefully sprayed with disinfectant, carrying articles on Chicago's vanished 'Mystery Medium' and photographs from a video tape that had been made in a burned-out vagrants' hotel. The boy's sudden disappearance from the hospital had fueled a controversy over the authenticity of that tape, and emotions were running high. Krepsin was intrigued, and wanted to know more about Billy Creekmore.
Krepsin had been explaining to Alvarado how the Falconer Crusade's assets were being transferred to Mexican banks, and how Wayne was fully in favor of the idea.
'But what about his own people? Won't they cause trouble?'
'It's not to their advantage to rock the boat, and that's what Mr Russo is telling them right now. They'll still run part of the show and draw their salaries. Every penny donated to the Crusade will first go to Alabama. In time, we'll build a television center outside Palm Springs so Wayne can continue his network ministry.'
Alvarado smiled slyly. 'It's a bit late for you to become a man of God, isn't it, Senor Krepsin?'
'I've always been a man of God,' he replied, chewing another cookie. 'God's green, and he folds. Now let's go on to the next item of business, shall we?'
When an amber oval moon had risen over the stark mountain peaks and Wayne Falconer was asleep in his room, Niles and Dorn came for Billy.
Floating in the darkness, unaware of where he was or how he'd gotten here, Billy heard the lock click and thought it was the woman again. He was startled when the overhead light came on, blazing into his eyes. There were two men in suits standing over him. A strap cut across his stomach as he weakly tried to lift his head. He remembered a tray of food, and the way it had splattered against the wall. The woman with the needle had said some very nasty things to him.
'Mr Krepsin wants him scrubbed,' one of the men said.
The woman started on Billy with a soapy, rough sponge, and scrubbed him until blood was almost drawn. Billy had come to like the woman in a way, to depend on her. She helped him find the bedpan when he needed to go to the bathroom, and she fed him when he was hungry.
The strap was loosened.
The man who'd spoken put a finger against Billy's throat to check his pulse.
'Is Bonnie here?' Billy asked. 'Where's Dr. Hillburn?'
The man ignored his questions. 'We want you to stand up now. We've brought you some clothes.' He motioned toward a chair across the room, and Billy made out a pair of yellow pants and a pale blue short-sleeved shirt. Something about the yellow pants jarred him—the color was familiar From where? he wondered.
'Stand up, now.'
Billy did, and his legs collapsed. The two men waited until he could stand up by himself. 'Need to call my mom,' Billy said.
'Right. Come on, get dressed. Mr Krepsin's waiting.'
Dazed and weak, Billy put on the clothes. He couldn't understand why they hadn't brought him any shoes. He almost cried because he had no shoes, and the pants were so loose they bagged around the thighs and hips. The shirt had a monogram: a scrolled W.
'These aren't my clothes,' he said. The two men were blurred shapes in his fogged vision. 'I went up to play the piano.'
'Let's go.'
The night was chilly. During a ride in a little car, Billy felt the cold wind in his face. Its chill helped to clear his senses a bit. He could see lights on towers that stood high off the ground. 'Where is this place?' he asked the two men, but neither of them answered.
They approached what looked to Billy like a huge square of concrete. He almost fell twice on the flagstone walkway, and the man in the gray suit had to help him walk. Billy felt a coldness coming off the man, like a bitter frost.
And then he remembered the shape changer saying his mother was dead.
The memories came back in a rush: the hospital, the chapel, the man behind him pressing a strong-smelling cloth to his face. A distant memory of engines whining. The sun beating down on a runway, and on the horizon nothing but white desert. He tried to pull free from the gray-suited man, but he was held in a viselike grip. Inside the concrete structure, Billy was made to put on a pair of cotton slippers. The air smelled like the hospital room. The two men led him along a hallway to a closed door, and one of them knocked on it. A voice said, 'Come in.'
They took him in and left him, and the door closed behind him. Billy weaved on his feet, his vision blurring in and out. The largest man he'd ever seen was waiting in a chair before him, next to a table that held a lamp and a cassette recorder. The man wore a long white caftan trimmed in gold, was bald, and had small black eyes.
'Hello, Billy,' Krepsin said, and put aside the file folder of newspaper clippings he'd been going through. 'Please sit down.' He motioned toward one of the two chairs that faced him.
'Think.' Billy told himself. He knew he'd been drugged, knew he was a long way from home. And knew also that he was in danger 'Where am I?'
'In a safe place. Don't you want to sit down?'
'No.'
'My name is Augustus Krepsin. I'm a friend of Wayne Falconer's.'
'Wayne Falconer? What's he got to do with this?'
'Oh, everything! Wayne asked that you be brought here. He wants very much to see you. Look here at what Wayne's been doing.' He showed Billy the folder, full of clippings about the Alcott Hotel video tape. 'He's been cutting these out. You're a famous young man, did you know that?'
'Then . . . Wayne's
'Of course. He even loaned you his clothes. Come on, sit down! I'm not going to bite you!'
'What do you want with me? I was playing the piano. Somebody came up behind me and—'
'Just to talk,' Krepsin said. 'Just a few minutes of your time, and then we'll take you wherever you'd like to go.' He offered a plateful of Oreos, Lorna Doones and vanilla wafers. 'Have one.'
Billy shook his head. Everything was mixed up in his mind, nothing was clear. Wayne wanted to see him? Why? 'The woman with the needles,' he said, pressing a hand to his forehead. 'Why'd she keep sticking me?'
'What woman, Billy? Oh, I imagine you've been under a lot of strain. With what you did at that hotel, I mean. You're in newspapers all across the country. Wayne's very interested in you, Billy. He wants to be your friend.'
'No. I don't believe you.' Exhausted, he sank down into one of the chairs. 'I want to call Dr. Hillburn, tell her where I am.'
'Of course you do. And you will. Tomorrow morning. It's late, and the telephone system here isn't very reliable. Wayne wanted you brought here—to Mexico—as his guest. I'm sorry if you've been under a strain, but
