Killer Karma

approaching a bomb. Cole heard his heart pounding.

Cole pretended to give a guilty start. “Well…this is bizarre, isn’t it? I didn’t expect to meet you.”

Lamper looked him over intently, and glanced from Cole’s suit to his own, identical in every detail. “You’re a friend of Irah’s?”

“No, an actor she hired for this gig.” Cole paused. “You know about it, don’t you?”

Lamper never hesitated. “Of course. I just — ah — seeing you is startling.”

“You can say that again.” Cole grinned. “Charles Arthur’s the name. The whole gig is strange, but…” He shrugged. “…for ten thou for two days’ work, I can put up with whatever’s in this security demo. Can you tell me what going to your boss’s house as you last night was about, though?”

Triumph lit Lamper’s eyes. “What did Irah tell you?”

“Squat. She just gave me my lines and dropped me off.”

“It was…part of the setup.” Lamper paused. “What are you- I mean, you’re clear about what you do today, aren’t you?”

Cole nodded. “Sure. I’m supposed to wait in her office. At noon I put on my makeup…”

“Makeup?” Lamper said in surprise.

“That’s how I get into this meeting this afternoon. I go in as one of the store managers. In the middle of the meeting I jump up, pull out a gun loaded with blanks, and shoot at Flaxx.” Cole felt a wash of enthusiasm…as if he were the actor, describing a real job. “He pretends to be hit. I run out and down to the emergency exit door, then take the stairs to the shopping arcade where I strip off my disguise and try to lose myself in the crowd.

“Some super-duper tracking device, a spray or a bug Carrasco shoots at me — she didn’t really say what it is — is supposed to lead them to me. If it doesn’t and I make it out of Embarcadero Center without being caught, I head for the airport and catch my flight back to L.A.”

During the recitation, Lamper went ashen. His heart rate launched into overdrive, making a pulse throbbed visibly in his neck. “Don’t,” he said hoarsely.

Cole blinked. “Don’t go back to L.A.? Why not?”

“Don’t go through with the job.” He reached out, clearly intending to grab Cole’s arm for emphasis. “Go to the airport now.”

Cole hastily backed beyond reach. “Are you crazy? Why should I do that?”

“There — there’s — ” Lamper floundered. “There’s a…power struggle going on in the company and Irah is — I think she’ll give you a gun with — ah — real bullets.”

Cole retreated another step. “That’s crazy, man. Even if she tried that, you think I’m not super careful about props like guns? No way am I taking a chance on walking in there with live ammo.”

“She’ll manage a switch somehow.”

“Uh…well…I’ll be even more careful.” He kept backing away. “Excuse me. I want to check out the stairs.”

Walking to the stair door, he watched Lamper with rear vision and ground his teeth. Go, go! Don’t hang around seeing I can’t open the door. To his relief, before he reached the exit, Lamper stumbled away. Cole let go and followed him.

Lamper went as far as Maldonado’s desk, where he stood staring at the closed office door. “I need to talk to Donald. How soon will the meeting be over?”

Maldonado glanced around. “I don’t know. Shall I have him call you when he’s free?”

“Please. Tell him it’s very important.”

Back in his office, Lamper dropped into his desk chair, pulled off his glasses, and sat with his face in his hands.

Mrs. Gao came in from her desk. “Are you feeling ill? You don’t look at all well.”

Terrible, in fact. Lamper’s face had gone so grey and tight, a death’s head seemed to be looking out of it. Cole refused to let himself feel any sympathy.

Lamper put his glasses back on and gave her a weak smile. “I’m just a little tired today.”

“Would you like some tea?”

“Thank you.”

While sipping the tea, he watched the hallway door, heart rate still up. Obviously waiting for the meeting to end. Then he would try to call Flaxx and warn him. Flaxx must be kept from giving it any credibility.

Praying the meeting ran a while yet, Cole zipped out to fill up on heat again.

Coming back, he found Lamper still sitting staring at the door. Cole felt as if he had a racing heart, too. Now he wanted the meeting over…the sooner the better.

Ten minutes later a group of men and women passed in the direction of the reception area. Lamper almost dropped the mug in his eagerness to reach for the phone again.

Cole raced to Flaxx’s office. Maldonado’s chair was empty so he materialized as he ran. And stepped inside the office just as the phone rang.

Shit. Irah was helping Maldonado pick up coffee cups.

He jumped out of her sight behind the half-open door. Peeking around the edge, he waved to attract Flaxx’s attention.

Flaxx scowled, waving him away, and picked up the phone. But the scowl quickly became a startled stare. “This is who?” Listening, he smiled wryly and crooked a finger. “Come on in, Earl. You’ll never guess who’s on the phone.”

Cole shook his head. “You’re busy. I’ll come back later.” He backed out of sight and let go. Shit. He hoped that appearance was going to be enough.

He walked back in to see.

“Who is it?” Irah asked.

“Just a minute,” Flaxx said into the phone and hit Mute. “Katherine, leave the rest of those cups for now, will you? And close the door on your way out.” Once she left, he turned to Irah. “He says he’s Earl Lamper.”

“And?”

“Earl was just at the door.” He took the phone off Mute. “I have bad news, whoever you are; your game won’t work this time. A minute ago I was looking at Earl Lamper.” His expression went incredulous and his voice furious. “Really. Fuck off.” He slammed down the phone.

Irah eyed him. “What was that about?”

“The Earl on the phone said the one I saw at the door was an imposter.” Flaxx drummed his fingers on the phone. “I wonder…”

This was probably going to be an interesting conversation but Cole left it to go back to Bookkeeping and see Lamper’s reaction to the call.

He caught Lamper on the way out of Bookkeeping. Not going far, though…just to the men’s room. Alone there, face bloodless, a pulse throbbing in his neck, Lamper paced in front of the basins. After several rounds he turned on the cold water in a basin, soaked paper towels in it, and pressed them to his face and neck. A man in torment, Cole judged. Pushed into a corner.

Cole still had enough energy to push some more. If he kept the materialization short. He turned himself into Irah and stepped from behind the screen wall. “I understand you met Charlie Arthur.”

Lamper whipped around. He clutched the wet towels like a shield. “I don’t know how you can even be thinking of doing this,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not going to let you.”

Cole leaned against the stalls, keeping Lamper facing away from the mirrors. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Charlie’s just here to demonstrate a security device.”

“The hell he is!” Lamper threw the towels in the basin. “Why does he look like me?”

Cole hesitated, then shrugged. “That’s insurance. If you’re with me or don’t interfere, he discards the store manager disguise on the way downstairs and no one knows what he really looks like. But if I don’t feel you’re with me, I’ll have him pull it off before he goes through the exit door and your face will be on the security tape as the man who shot Donald. It’s your choice.”

He backed toward the screen wall. “Now don’t try seeing or calling Donald to warn him. I’ll be monitoring a spy camera in his office. Not that he’s likely to believe your story anyway.”

Once around the screen wall, he let go, then came back to find Lamper standing with his face twisted by a