In The House Of Secret Enemies

identity of my attacker, or his motive for wanting to kill me. That left the strange series of incidents connected with the circus, including the deaths of Bruno and Bethel Jessum. I was convinced I had somehow been dealt a hand in a game I hadn't even known existed; it was a deadly game, and I was going to lie very low until I learned the rules.

The cashiers and ticket takers were strangers, local people hired for the occasion. Once inside the armory, I pushed Garth's six-feet-plus into a large knot of people and dived in after, flowing along with the crush. It was tight quarters, but it made for anonymity, something I valued very highly at the moment. Ten minutes later I found seats that satisfied me, high up in the darkness. I immediately took out my field glasses and began to scan the arena. After five minutes I put them away and sank down in my seat to wait for the parade.

'See anything?'

'Yeah,' I said tightly. 'A bunch of people waiting for the circus to begin.'

'And what is your conclusion, Sherlock?'

'Hippies are out and the Great Silent Majority is in. What the hell do you expect? I don't even know what I'm looking for. I just know it's here.'

I made no attempt to disguise the impatience in my voice. I could feel hot flashes of fever running up and down my body, sapping my strength; I felt like a pinball machine about to register TILT.

'Easy, Mongo. Easy. If I didn't take your hunches seriously, I wouldn't be here.' Garth paused and grunted. 'How's your side?'

'It's fine.' It hurt like hell. The few days I'd stolen from the hospital were going to cost me, but this had to be done; circuses move on, and personnel change.

The first clean notes of a circus piece cut through the smoky haze of the arena as a team of clowns bounded out into the center ring and immediately went into an overripe slapstick routine. I put the glasses back to my eyes and scanned the opposite side of the hall. This time I found a familiar face. Garth's voice was strained and low.

'You look like hell, Mongo. That white on your face isn't greasepaint, and if I don't get you home into bed it's liable to become permanent.'

'Uh-huh.' I handed Garth the glasses and pointed to a white-garbed figure moving in the aisles on the opposite side. 'Check him out.'

Garth put the glasses to his eyes and adjusted the focus. 'The popcorn salesman?'

'Right.'

'Nice clean-cut fellow out to make a buck. What about him?'

I took the glasses away from Garth's eyes, waiting until I had his full attention. 'That same man was pushing popcorn in the Garden.'

'Maybe there's good money in it. So?'

'So, concessionaires don't travel with the circus; they're all locals, the same ones that work ball games, carnivals, and so on. There's just no reason why that man should come one hundred fifty miles to sell popcorn. He'd make more on welfare.' I hesitated a moment, groping for the connections. 'In fact, I ran into him at the entrance to the access tunnel. I'll lay you ten to one he was there to watch out for me, to keep me from going in. Look at him; he's not trying to sell anything-he's using that tray as a prop.'

Garth squinted through the glasses. 'You're right,' he said quietly. 'That badge is probably a phony, too.'

At last Garth was listening, truly listening. The trouble was that I didn't have too much else to say. I decided to let my tongue go for a walk and see where it would take me.

'Now, pick up on this,' I said quickly. 'Bruno didn't kill his wife, and he didn't shoot himself. They were killed because. . because of their connection with me. I couldn't tell whether it was the fever or reasonable logic, but a picture was forming in my mind, a very ugly picture.

'Bruno's reasons for coming to me were real. His wife was running around and he didn't want to lose her. His mind was going and he thought maybe I could stop it merely by talking to her. He told this to Bethel and she laughed at him. That is, she laughed until she talked to Anagori. Are you following me?'

Garth said nothing. He was following me.

'When Anagori found out Bethel knew me and that I was coming to see her he blew. Why? Because I might also see him, and he couldn't risk that. He put a big scare into Bethel and she went into her act with Bruno, the idea being to head me off. Probably he figured I'd go home again.'

'Then Statler gave you the celebrity treatment.'

'Right. And Anagori panicked. He faked an injury to stay off the wire. The Jessums had become a liability to him because of their connection with me, so he sent someone to kill them while he was in the hospital.'

'Someone like a phony concessionaire?'

'Someone like a phony concessionaire. Then, to tie up any loose ends, he sent a torpedo after me precisely because he was afraid I might not go for the coroner's verdict.'

'Why? Who is Anagori, what's his operation, and why run it from a circus anyway?' Garth asked.

The questions hung in the air unanswered. 'I'll let you know when I see Anagori.'

Garth nodded tensely and leaned forward on the edge of his seat. 'I'm going to round up some local help.'

'Negative,' I said quickly. 'Sooner or later that other torpedo is going to be around here. Without you I'm naked as a bird. Let's wait until we find out the whole story.'

Garth didn't like it, but I was right and he knew it. He leaned to one side, half shielding me.

'Just don't pass out on me.'

'Not likely.' It was, but there didn't seem any percentage in stressing the point. I took deep breaths, rationing my strength.

I watched Paula perform her act, but the hall had an annoying tendency to slide in and out of focus.

'Ladies and gentlemen! Statler Brothers Circus proudly presents. . that master of the high wire. . COUNT ANAGORI!'

The count had the impact and presence of a laser beam as he sprinted from the wings, a long, black silk cape billowing out behind him. He was rewarded with the greatest homage an audience can bestow upon a performer, a breathless gasp of astonishment and anticipation. Anagori paused once in the circle of light, released the cape and was halfway up the rope ladder before the cloth finally settled on the floor. I leaned forward, squinting into the bank of bright lights that followed him, lighting his way to the platform sixty feet above the floor of the armory. The hall suddenly righted itself with a sharp jolt as the adrenaline squirted into my bloodstream, staving off the effects of the fever.

I had hoped for the exhilarating shock of instant recognition. It didn't come. As far as I could tell, the man standing on the platform was a total stranger.

His elan, the electricity of his stage personality, made him seem larger than life. I judged his height at around six feet, his weight somewhere around one hundred eighty pounds. Age was more difficult, but I guessed he was in his early thirties, like myself. Every muscle rippled beneath his crimson tights.

'Who is he?' Garth's voice was strangled.

I could do nothing but shake my head, uncertainty falling around me, chilling me like a cloak of ice.

'Damn it, Mongo! Who is he?'

'I don't know. . I'm not sure. Not yet.'

Extremely confident, eschewing the traditional equipment checks, the count hefted his long balance pole and stepped out onto the thin, metal umbilical cord that was all that remained between life and a rather messy death on the concrete below; the count used no safety net. My hands trembled as I lifted my field glasses to my eyes and adjusted the focus; the figure of the count blurred for a moment, then sprang into focus. I blinked away a few drops of sweat and stared hard.

Anagori was good, incredibly good. He danced on the wire, pivoting and swinging back and forth, his face a mask of indifference. He might have been practicing in the middle of a gymnasium.

Yes. His face-dark, intense and brooding for all its indifference — was somehow familiar, but who was he, and where had I seen him?'

One thing was certain: Count Anagori had not developed his skills overnight. He had started at a very early age. A man like that isn't discovered in a Florida tryout, not unless he goes that route intentionally. Knowing Statler,