“No cops.”
“But boss-”
“I said, no cops.”
“Whatever you say.”
Peter resumed looking out the window. There were names for men like Zack. Traitor, spy, Judas. None of them adequately conveyed the harm he’d caused. All the cops could do was arrest Zack. Peter had something else in mind. He was going to make his assistant talk, and tell him about the men who ran the Order of Astrum. Then, maybe he’d call the cops.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Herbie said under his breath.
“Trust me,” he said, hearing the rage in his voice. “I do.”
Zack and Snoop shared a loft in SoHo, in what was once the heart of the New York art scene. They lived in an old factory with a cast-iron facade and a hundred and fifty years of history. Herbie parked by the front door. It was quiet, the rain keeping everyone inside.
Peter gazed up at the third floor where his assistants lived. Liza was up there, and had no idea that her life was in danger. He needed to get his girlfriend to safety before confronting Zack. He started to get out.
“You got something to defend yourself with?” his driver asked.
“Just my wits,” Peter replied.
“Zack will kill you with his bare hands.”
Peter thought back to his encounter with Wolfe. He’d been able to anticipate every move Wolfe had tried to make, and didn’t see things being any different with Zack.
“We’ll see.”
“Be careful, boss. I got bills to pay,” his driver said.
Peter climbed out of the limo. The building’s front door was locked, with visitors needing to be buzzed in. If he called upstairs, he’d have to explain why he was here. He considered picking the lock, and even breaking the front door down. Before he could decide, the front door opened, and a female artist emerged, dragging a large canvas.
“Crummy elevator is out of service,” she said.
Peter held the door for her, ducking inside when she was gone. He found the stairwell and started up, hearing the dull echo of his footsteps. A naked bulb lit his way.
He felt his rage build, and clenched his hands into fists. As a boy, his parents had forbidden him from fighting. After they’d died, he’d lived with a number of their psychic friends who’d continued to stress that rule. He could remember getting into a scuffle at school with an older bully twice his size. The next thing he’d known, the bully was in the nurse’s office with a bloody nose and a pair of black eyes, while he was in the principal’s office getting a lecture. Milly, his guardian at the time, had begged him never to lash out again. Now, he understood why. Milly had seen his mother turn into a monster, and was fearful that her son was capable of doing the same thing.
He stepped out of the stairwell onto the third floor landing. His assistants’ loft was at the end of the hallway. Zack’s racing bike was parked by the door.
He rapped on the door, and stood facing the peephole. The door swung open, and he stood face-to-face with Liza. She wore gray sweats, no makeup, and had her hair tied in a bun. His heart did the funny thing it did whenever he saw her.
“Hi,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” She did not open the door all the way, and he sensed that there was something inside the loft she didn’t want him to see.
“Am I disturbing you?” he asked.
“Sort of. We were just practicing one of the illusions in the show.”
The words were slow to sink in. Last night, she’d told him she was quitting.
“You’re not leaving?”
“No. Look, I’m still mad at you, Peter. You screwed up, big time.”
“I know I did. I’m sorry.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that. Let’s get together later and talk, okay?”
“Sure.” He tried to look over her shoulder. “Is Zack here?”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“Is he?”
“Of course he’s here. Is something wrong?”
He brought his finger to his lips, and in a whisper said, “Zack set me up the other night at the theater. He’s a spy. You and Snoop are in danger.”
“Cut it out.”
“I’m not kidding. I have proof.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“Please let me in.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Send him to the nurse’s office.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
His girlfriend looked scared. Zack’s voice could be heard inside the loft. Snoop was with him, and they were discussing how to repair an illusion from the show. Peter pushed open the door, and entered the main living area, a large space with high ceilings and a succession of large, identical windows that faced the street. The furnishings were sparse, and consisted of several pieces of mismatched furniture bought from a thrift store.
The Sword Suspension illusion was in the center of the loft. Zack and Snoop were tightening the mechanism which let Liza rotate on the tip of a sword while suspended in midair. Peter had pulled the trick from the show after the sword began to wobble. Had Liza fallen, the sword’s blade could have ended her life.
His assistants stopped what they were doing.
“Look who’s here.” Snoop crossed the loft, and slapped Peter on the arm. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”
“Stand behind me,” Peter said.
“Say what?”
“Just do it.”
Snoop shrugged and slipped behind him so he was standing next to Liza.
“You and I need to talk,” Peter said to Zack.
Zack put down the tool he was holding. His head of security wore a sleeveless black shirt that exposed his thick, muscular arms. He worked out every day, and had the ripped physique to show for it. “About what?” he replied.
“I think you know,” Peter said.
“Afraid not. You got something on your mind, spit it out.”
“I want to know why you betrayed me.”
Zack started to answer, then thought better of it. He picked up the sword that held Liza in the air during the trick. He ran his finger down the blade, testing its sharpness. The look in his eyes was pure evil. Zack had known this day would eventually come, and he had already decided what he would do. Lifting the sword over his head like a samurai, he came forward.
“If it means anything, I didn’t know they were planning to kill you,” Zack said.
“How touching. Now put the sword down,” Peter told him.
“Why should I?”
“Because if you don’t, I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re funny.”
“I mean it. Give up while you can.”
“Right.”
Peter looked into Zack’s eyes, and plumbed his thoughts. He saw Zack inside a primitive hut made of mud and straw, choking the life out of an African witch doctor. Tossing the half-dead man to the ground, Zack lit a match, and tried to set the hut ablaze. Several tribesmen entered the hut, and began to fight with Zack. Zack
