An Affair Of Sorcerers

represented enough circumstantial evidence to justify a reexamination of Esteban Morales' situation. Esteban was free on cash bond that Senator Younger had put up, on Younger's responsibility.

I could hardly believe I'd pulled it off. In fact, I was in such a mental haze that I remained in my seat, staring at the bench, after the judge had left. People were talking excitedly around me, but I was having trouble connecting words to their meanings. Garth grabbed my arm and started to help me up. I shook him off, rose and followed him out of the courtroom.

Garth drove Younger, Esteban and me to the hospital in a squad car. I was exhausted and in pain, and everything around me segued dreamily into and out of focus. The tension of my confrontation with Jordon had made me temporarily forget just what was the matter with me; now the realization that I was infected with a disease that tore up men's minds before it killed them washed over me like an icy wave. I wasn't exactly following doctor's orders, and I was afraid. I knew I should go home and go to bed, but Kathy was in even worse danger; I had to know what was happening at the hospital, which meant I'd have to hold myself together for another hour or so.

There was something approaching a crowd outside Kathy's room, and there was palpable tension in the air. Joshua Greene was there, along with three other doctors who I assumed were the team of specialists he'd called in. Flanking the physicians were three men in dark, pin-striped suits with name tags that identified them as hospital administrators. None of them looked happy. On the opposite side of the corridor, as if facing off against an opposing team, were Janet and April.

I anticipated problems, but Janet had done her job well; Linda Younger had been given a bed in a private room with Kathy. Indeed, it was Janet who seemed to be in charge of the whole operation-probably understandable since, obviously, no one associated with the hospital wanted to assume responsibility.

As soon as we arrived, Janet took Esteban by the arm and led him into the room. Through the open door I watched him as he stopped between the two beds and stared down at the girls. He spoke cheerfully to Linda Younger, then had a whispered conference with April, who'd followed them in. She nodded, and Esteban came back out into the corridor.

'I can still help Linda,' Esteban said to the Senator. 'With her, we have more time. But I must work with the little girl immediately.'

'I understand,' Younger said in a hoarse voice. 'Go ahead and do what you have to do. I'm just so grateful-' He turned to me with tears in his eyes. 'Frederickson, I'm so. . grateful.' He broke into sobs, covered his face with his hands and hurried down the hall toward the men's room at the end.

Esteban went back into the room and turned off the lights. He took off his jacket and shoes, then lay down on the bed next to the pale, comatose Kathy. To me, Kathy already looked dead, but occasionally her chest would rise almost imperceptibly, then fall again as she clung to life.

One of the administrators started to object. April came out into the corridor and silenced him with a reminder that she'd signed a paper releasing the hospital from any responsibility for what Esteban did to her daughter. Then she nodded to Esteban, who, taking care not to disturb any of the tubes connected to her body, picked Kathy up and placed her on his chest. He put his cheek against Kathy's, closed his eyes and began to stroke her body. In the silence I thought I could hear him softly humming to himself. April came over to me, put her arms around me and squeezed hard. Then, without a word, she went into the room and knelt next to the bed on which Kathy and Esteban lay.

'You're making things worse, Mongo.'

I turned to face Joshua Greene. The rest of the local medical establishment stood slightly behind him, grimly nodding their agreement like a Greek chorus. 'The girl is going to die,' he continued tightly. 'All you've done is raise false hopes. The mother and uncle were accepting. You should have left them alone with their grief; now they'll only have to go through that phase all over again.'

'It seems to me that that decision is the mother's.'

Joshua sighed. 'How do you feel? You look terrible.'

'I feel like shit. I've got stomach cramps, and I constantly have the sensation that I'm going to throw up. Is there something you can give me?'

He slowly, firmly, shook his head. 'Within the past twenty-four hours you've been bitten-damn good-by a rabid animal. You've got rabies coursing through your system right now. You've had the first in a series of rabies shots that are painful and are no guarantee, in the circumstances, that you won't develop the disease anyway. The injections have side effects, and you're feeling them; I can tell by your eyes that you have a fever. If you don't rest and let the serum take effect, there's a very good chance that you could die of rabies. I don't think you're aware of just how dangerous your situation is.'

He was wrong. I was very much aware of what I was risking. But I heard myself saying, 'I have to keep going, and you know why I have to keep going. Give me something to prop me up.'

'No,' Greene said, a slight tremor in his voice. 'I won't help you kill yourself; offhand, I'd say that's what you're trying to do. Rabies is a horrible way to die, Mongo.'

He paused, stared at me with his compassionate, soulful eyes. 'First, your vision will begin to blur. Then your throat will begin to constrict to the point where you can't even swallow your own saliva; you'll slaver all over yourself and howl like an animal because you'll crave water but won't be able to drink it. Of course, by this time your mind will be gone. We won't be able to do anything but isolate you, strap you down and wait for you to die. And once you start to develop symptoms, it's over. And you are going to develop symptoms unless you do as I say. Think about it.'

'Oh, I will, Joshua,' I said softly. 'I have.' My mouth already felt dry. Greene had told me that symptoms wouldn't normally appear for several days, at least. But then, I was a dwarf-and the bat had really enjoyed a picnic on my thumb; I had to be carrying an extra-large dose of pathogens in my system.

A glacial wind rose from somewhere in my mind, chilling me; regardless of the consequences, I couldn't rest-not just yet. I had only a few years left anyway; Kathy had a lifetime.

I wanted to talk to Janet, but she was involved in what looked like a heated conversation with one of the hospital administrators. I walked quietly into Kathy's room, paused beside the first bed and smiled at Linda Younger. The frail twenty-four-year-old woman was resting serenely, her hands folded peacefully across her stomach. Suddenly she opened her violet eyes, saw me and smiled. She reached out and gripped my hand.

'Thank you, Dr. Frederickson,' she whispered weakly. 'My father told me what you did.'

I blew her a kiss, then moved around behind the kneeling April and put my hand on her shoulder.

'Thank you for not letting me give up, Robert,' she said quietly, taking my hand.

'Hey, there's no guarantee,' I whispered in her ear. 'I just had to take this last shot at buying some time.'

'I understand. Even Daniel seems to believe that Esteban can help. Otherwise, he wouldn't have permitted it.'

'Where is he now?'

'He's back out. . hunting.'

'When did he leave?'

'I don't know; I've lost track of time.' She put her cheek against my hand, gently kissed my bandaged thumb. 'You have to rest, Robert. You should see what you look like. You're killing yourself.'

'I'll take it easy, April, but I've got to get back out on the streets. If I don't, getting Esteban down here will be a wasted exercise. Maybe we've got a little more time now, but not much.' I gently pulled my hand away and looked at my watch. It was almost five, and the sand in Greene's original twelve-hour estimate was running out. 'I've got to go. I'll be in touch.'

Janet was waiting for me out in the corridor. 'Thanks, love,' I said to her. 'You came through with flying colors. I can imagine the talking you had to do. I owe you a big one.'

'Mongo!' she called after me as I headed for the elevator. 'Where are you going?'

'Hunting.'

It was five thirty by the time I got to the William Morris Agency offices in the MGM building on Avenue of the Americas. Despite the late hour, I was fairly certain Jake Stein would still be at his desk, talking on the phone to Los Angeles: such is the life of a high-powered talent agent.

The receptionist buzzed Jake, and a minute later I was on my way past a sliding glass partition into the