play along.
He feigned a gasp of shock. 'How... how did you know?'
Bellitto laughed softly. 'Because I've been a practitioner so much longer than you, so much longer than anyone. And your designs are pathetically transparent.'
'Are they now?'
'Yes. You want to take over my Circle.'
Jack had no idea what he was talking about but wanted to keep him going, maybe find out what made him tick and use some of that as a point of attack. Because Eli Bellitto was going down. Hard. Only a matter now of when and where.
'I have my own circle, so why would I want yours?'
'Because mine is so much more powerful. I've been performing the Ceremony for hundreds of years and-'
'Wait. Did you say 'hundreds'?'
'Yes. Hundreds. I am two hundred and thirty-two years old.'
Jack shook his head. This guy was Froot Loop city.
'I had no idea.'
'Now you see what you're up against. My Circle extends into all areas of power and influence. And you want it for yourself, don't you.'
'My circle runs pretty deep and wide itself, and-'
The voice hardened. 'Yours is nothing! Nothing! You caught me by surprise Monday night, but that won't happen again. I have my Circle casting its net for you. You're clever, but you're no match for me. We have your Tracfone number and soon we'll have your name, and once we have that, you're finished!'
Jack had a pretty good idea of how they'd got his phone number. He'd made only one call since his tete-a- tete with Bellitto, and that had been to 911 to report the kid. EMS would have recorded the number on caller ID. Figuring out from there that it was a Tracfone was no big deal, but to get the number in the first place did indicate a certain amount of suck with officialdom, maybe even the NYPD itself.
Maybe Bellitto wasn't blowing smoke. Maybe he was as well connected as he said.
And maybe he was trying to keep Jack talking instead of the other way around. If his 'circle' had a couple of tracking cars riding around, tracing this call, could they triangulate on Jack's position and move in?
Lucky for him he was far from home.
Jack stepped away from the building and rejoined the pedestrian flow toward the elevated tracks. He'd keep the call going for a while longer, then step on a train and zoom away.
'What's the matter?' Bellitto said. 'Cat got your tongue?'
Jack forced a laugh. 'How typically unoriginal. You haven't a clue as to who I am or what I'm up to. And you never will. Your time is finished, Eli. Time for a new generation to take over. Step aside or die.'
'Never! The Ceremony is mine! I don't know how you found out about it, but no Johnny-Come-Lately is going to usurp my power!'
Johnny-Come-Lately? Usurp? This guy was too much.
But this Ceremony he was ranting about... Jack had a sick feeling it might involve killing children. If he was right, maybe he could turn it on its head to give Bellitto a swift kick in his already cut-up balls.
'The old original recipe Ceremony might be yours, Eli, but I've done my own variation on it. The Ceremony, Version two-point-oh, is all mine.'
'What?' An uncertain note here. 'What are you talking about?'
'I've reversed the Ceremony, Eli.'
'I don't understand.'
'I can bring them back.'
'What? Nonsense! That's impossible!'
'Is it? That was me in the store on Sunday trying to buy the Roger Rabbit key ring.'
'You? But... but why would you want it?'
'Not me. I didn't want it. Tara wanted it.'
'Who?'
'Tara Portman.' Jack swore he heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end. 'You remember her, don't you. The pretty little nine-year-old blonde you snatched by the Kensington riding stables back in eighty-eight.' Jack fought to keep the growing rage out of his voice. Had to sound cool, play it like someone as sick as the guy on the other end of the line. 'She's back, and she wanted her key ring. So I went and got it for her. Tara's back, Eli. And is she ever pissed.'
With that Jack broke the connection and gave the off button a vicious jab, damn near punching it out the back side of the phone as he cut the power.
Chew on that for the rest of the night, scumbag.
15
'Slow down.' Eli said, peering through the passenger window into the growing darkness. 'It's just a little ways ahead. Number seven-thirty-five.'
Adrian had the wheel of Eli's Mercedes, a black 1990 sedan. Despite its age its mileage was low. Eli used it infrequently and only for short trips. He preferred this old classic for its room and comfort and lines. The new models held no appeal for him.
Eli's wounds were feeling much better tonight, but not well enough to drive. Moving his leg back and forth to work the brake and gas pedals would flare his pain, so he'd given Adrian the keys. Adrian was still having some trouble with his knee, but fortunately it was his left that had been injured, so he could still drive.
Just as well that Eli had a physical excuse for not driving, for he wasn't up to it emotionally either. Not tonight. Too rattled, too distracted... why, in his present mood, he might very well drive into oncoming traffic without realizing until it was too late.
But he couldn't let Adrian and Strauss see his unease, his uncertainty. He had never been in a situation like this, and found this inexplicable turn of events almost overwhelming. Everything had been going so well for so long, and now...
Initially he'd been delighted to make contact with his attacker, the mysterious 'Jack.' He'd called with the intention of shaking him up, of letting him know that he hadn't got away clean with his vicious, underhanded act, that he was being hunted and would be found.
Instead, it had been Eli who had been left shaken.
The man knew that he'd abducted Tara Portman, knew that the key ring had been hers. How? He didn't believe for a second that the Ceremony could be reversed, and yet... how did the man know about Tara?
The questions had plagued Eli until he'd given into a yearning to return to the house where the Portman child had died. Just for a look...
'I still think this is a lousy, stupid idea,' said Strauss from where he slouched in the rear seat. 'Lousy because this whole deal could be a trick to get us to come back to this place, which we're doing. And stupid because Tara Portman ain't back and she ain't never coming back. Did we or did we not cut up her heart and eat it? No way that kid is back and looking for her key ring.'
Eli winced at Strauss's casual mention of these Ceremony details. They were never to be spoken.
'First of all,' Eli said, 'we are not going back to Dmitri's house, we are simply driving by. Just another car passing on the street. As for the other matter, I fully agree that Tara Portman cannot be back, but we must find out how this man knows about her.'
'Easy,' Strauss said, the edge still on his voice. He leaned forward and jutted his head over the back of the front seat. His breath reeked of garlic. 'Somebody talked.'
'No one talked,' Eli said. 'I've spoken to our other members, all ten of them, since this afternoon. No one has been kidnapped and tortured into a confession. Everyone is fine and looking forward to the next Ceremony. And think about it: If someone did talk, why talk about Tara Portman? Why not last year's lamb, or the year before? Tara Portman was ages ago.'
'Perhaps,' Adrian said. He'd been strangely silent all day. 'But she was the first lamb we sacrificed in Dmitri's
