Ghost Hunter

'He probably doesn't know about my secret tunnel entrance.'

'I still don't like the idea of you going down there,' Cooper said.

Elly, with Doreen behind her, reached the bottom of the staircase and hurried across the space to open the cellar door.

'We'll be okay,' she assured him. 'Doreen is a very good tangler. She can handle any illusion traps we might come across. Rose will give the alarm if there are any stray ghosts drifting around that section of the tunnels. We'll steer clear of them.'

'What about an exit strategy?'

'I've got the coordinates for Bertha's hole-in-the-wall. We'll head for it. There's no reason DeWitt's men would be watching her shop.'

'You've got plenty of tuned amber?' Cooper asked.

She glanced at the amber locket around Doreen's neck. 'Doreen has hers.' She touched her earrings. 'And I've got mine.'

'Give me both frequencies.'

She rattled off her own and then held the phone away from her mouth. 'Doreen? What's your freq?'

Doreen gave it to her. Elly repeated it into the phone.

'Got 'em,' Cooper said.

'We're heading into the cellar now.' Elly led the way down the steps into the pool of darkness below. 'We won't be able to keep this phone connection much longer.'

'Be careful, both of you,' he said. 'I'll pick you up at the exit point in about twenty minutes. I want you and Doreen in safekeeping at Guild headquarters before I go after Frazier.'

Elly knelt down to open the concealed trapdoor in the floor of the cellar.

'Yes, sir, Mr. Guild Boss,' she said. 'See you soon.'

A wave of psi power wafted up through the opening in the floor.

She cut the connection and dropped the phone into her pocket.

'I'm the tangler here,' Doreen said. 'Stand back; I'll go first.'

'You know something?' Elly said, 'When it comes to the catacombs, people have been saying that to me for my entire life. One of these days, I'm going to be the one who gets to say it.'

Chapter 36

SOMETHING HAD GONE WRONG. AGAIN.

Palmer hit redial on his phone for the third time. There was still no answer from Grayson DeWitt.

He went to the window and stood looking out across the rooftops of the Old Quarter.

What was going on over there on Ruin Lane? The scheme was cut and dried. Everything had been on schedule since he'd made the phone call to DeWitt early this morning.

In his last call, DeWitt had reported that he had found the dope in Elly's car and that his men were in position on the rooftops.

What could have gone wrong this time?

Frustration and rage threatened to choke Palmer. His left hand clenched and unclenched.

Boone had figured out the second setup, he thought. It was the only explanation. The son of a bitch was probably on his way back to the safety of his office at Guild headquarters in Aurora Springs right now, leaving Elly behind to take the fall for the drugs.

So much for his working hypothesis, Palmer thought. He had been so damn certain that Elly St. Clair was Boone's one weak spot. Now it looked as if he had miscalculated.

He knew that it was time to pull another disappearing act, but he hated to walk away from the plan at this stage. He had spent so much time and money on this project. Every detail had been so carefully thought out He had killed twice to preserve the integrity of the plan.

If Boone was on his way back to Aurora Springs, it meant that everything had fallen apart.

'Bastard. Bastard. Son of a bitch bastard blue freak.'

He slammed his fist against the side of the window and then sucked in his breath when pain flashed across his knuckles. He looked down and saw blood dripping on the windowsill.

'Bastard,' he whispered. 'This is all your fault, Boone. Everything has gone wrong, and it's all your fault, you damned freak.'

He went into the small bathroom and ran cold water over his bruised knuckles. The mask in the mirror stared back at him. Every day it looked less and less like him. He was falling apart.

Control. The key was control. If he didn't regain it, he would fall into the blue vortex.

He took some deep breaths. When he felt steadier he turned off the water.

Think like the Guild boss you were destined to be.

Deal with facts, he told himself. All right, something had gone wrong with the final stage of the revised plan. There was nothing to be done about the disaster. Escape and survival were his priorities now.

He had to get back underground as quickly as possible.

In the catacombs he was the master of blue energy. Down there he was invincible.

He had made preparations for this contingency, he reminded himself.

He went back out into the unfurnished room and wiped down everything in sight with a damp cloth. It was doubtful that anyone would ever find this place, let alone connect him to it, but he was not going to take any more chances. There were rumors that some police detectives had a kind of psi talent that enabled them to detect whether a suspect had been in a room at some point in the recent past. The authorities claimed that was an urban legend, but he knew a little something about Guild legends, and he wasn't taking any chances. Courts required proof. He didn't plan to leave any.

When he was satisfied that he had erased all traces of his presence in the small, dilapidated apartment, he picked up the duffel bag that held his emergency supply of cash and some extra chant that he could sell if he ran short of money. He had a change of clothes and his journal in the bag, too.

He let himself out the door, not bothering to rez the antique lock. The old flophouse had been abandoned years ago. He'd been lucky that someone had neglected to shut off the water.

He went quickly along the empty hall and took the fire stairs down into the deep basement.

The psi energy pouring out of the hole-in-the-wall revived and calmed him. Down here he was in control.

He slipped through the jagged opening in the quartz, climbed into the sled, and paused to check the fix on the locator. He wished he could leave town right that instant. It made him nervous to hang around any longer than necessary now that he knew his plan had failed.

Unfortunately, there was one last detail that had to be taken care of before he could be assured of his personal safety. He had to get rid of the silly little bitch. Although she did not know his real name, Doreen Thornton could describe him.

Should have killed her yesterday, he thought, rezzing the sled's engine. But he hadn't wanted any more dead bodies showing up in Elly's neighborhood at that particular point. Another one would have raised too many questions with the authorities and, quite possibly, with Cooper Boone.

Don't worry, he thought. Doreen isn't going anywhere. Not with that face you gave her. And she thinks you're a cop. She'll keep her mouth shut.

But she was definitely a problem that he had to deal with as quickly as possible.

He checked her personal amber frequency. The stuff didn't work as a locating device aboveground, but it was as good as a homing beacon down here, provided you knew the number.

Doreen was a ruin rat. If she did decide to hide, she would head for the catacombs.

The frequency pinged, startling him so badly that he nearly drove into the nearest wall.

Doreen had, indeed, fled into the tunnels.

He braked to a stop and sat staring at the directional device, not daring to believe his good fortune.

She wasn't too far away. According to the grid, the coordinates he was looking at corresponded to a section