Dean Koontz - Cold Fire

She recalled an initial eerie impression of inhuman coldness, upon first meeting his gaze, but that passed and never returned from the moment he smiled.

The seventh article was about another modest Jim who had not hung around to accept thanks and praise-or media attention-after rescuing Carmen Diaz, thirty, from a burning apartment house in Miami on the fifth of July. He had blue eyes.

Poring through the remaining twenty-two articles, Holly found two more about Ironheart, though only his first name was mentioned. On June 1, Thaddeus Johnson, twelve, had almost been pitched off the roof of an eight-story Harlem tenement by four members of a neighborhood youth gang who had not responded well to his disdainful rejection of an invitation to join their drug-peddling fraternity. He was rescued by a blue-eyed man who incapacitated the four thugs with a dazzling series of Tae Kwan Do kicks, chops, thrusts, and throws. "He was like Batman without the funny clothes," Thaddeus had told the Daily News reporter.

Two Wednesdays prior to that, on June 7, another blue-eyed Jim "just seemed to materialize" on the property of Louis Andretti, twenty-eight, of Corona, California, in time to warn the homeowner not to enter a crawlspace under his house to repair a plumbing leak. "He told me a family of rattlers had settled in there," Andretti told the reporter.

Later, when agents from the county's Animal Control inspected the crawlspace from the perimeter, with the aid of a halogen lamp, they saw not just a nest but "something out of a" nightmare," and eventually extracted forty-one snakes from beneath the structure. "What I don't understand," Andretti said, "is how that guy knew the rattlers were there, when I live in the house and never had a clue.”

Now Holly had four linked incidents to add to the rescue of Nicky O Conner in Boston and Billy Jenkins in Portland, all since the first of June. She typed in new instructions to Newsweb, asking for the same search to be made for the months of March, April, and May.

She needed more coffee, and when she got up to go to the vending room, she saw that George Fintel had evidently awakened and staggered home.

She hadn't heard him leave. Tommy was gone, as well. She was alone.

She got another cup of coffee, and it didn't taste as bad as it had before.

The brew hadn't improved; her sense of taste had just been temporarily damaged by the first two cups.

Eventually Newsweb located eleven stories in March through May that fit her parameters. After examining the printouts, Holly found only one of them of interest.

On May 15, in Atlanta, Georgia, a blue-eyed Jim had entered a convenience store during an armed robbery. He shot and killed the perpetrator, Norman Rink, who had been about to kill two customers-Sam Newsome twenty-five, and his five-year-old daughter Emily. Flying high on a cocaine, Ice, and methamphetamine cocktail-Rink had already killed the clerk and two other customers merely for the fun of it.

After wasting Rink and assuring himself that the Newsomes were unhurt, Jim had slipped away before the police arrived.

The store security camera had provided a blurry photograph of the heroic intruder. It was only the second photo Holly had found in all the articles. The image was poor. But she immediately recognized Jim Ironheart.

Some details of the incident unnerved her. If Ironheart had an amazing ability-psychic power, whatever to foresee fatal moments in the lives of strangers and arrive in time to thwart fate, why hadn't he gotten to that convenience store a few minutes sooner, early enough to prevent the deaths of the clerk and other customers? Why had he saved the Newsomes and let the rest die? She was further chilled by the description of his attack on Rink.

He had pumped four rounds from a 12-gauge pistol-grip shotgun into the mad man. Then, although Rink was indisputably dead, Jim reloaded and fired another four rounds. "He was in such a rage," Sam Newsome said, "his face red, and he was sweating, you could see the arteries pounding in the temples, across his forehead. He was crying a little, too, but the tears.

they didn't make him seem any less angry." When done, Jim had expressed regret for cutting Rink down so violently in front of little Emily He'd explained that men like Rink, who killed innocent people, brought out "a little madness of my own." Newsome told the reporter, "He saved our lives, yeah, but I gotta say the guy was scary, almost as scary as Rink Realizing that Ironheart might not have revealed even his first name some occasions, Holly instructed Newsweb to search the past six months for stories in which "rescue" and "saved the life" were within ten words of "blue." She had noticed that some witnesses were vague about his physical description, but that most remembered his singularly blue eyes.

She went to the john, got more coffee, then stood by the printer.

As the find was transferred to hard copy, she snatched it up, scanned it, tossed in the wastecan if it was of no interest or read it with excitement if it was about another nick-of time rescue. Newsweb turned up four more that indisputably belonged in the Ironheart file, even though neither first nor last name was used.

At her desk again, she instructed Newsweb to search the past six months for the name "Ironheart" in the national media.

While she waited for a response, she put the pertinent printouts in order then made a chronological list of the people whose lives Jim Ironheart saved, incorporating the four new cases. She included their names, the location of each incident, and the type of death from which the person had been spared.

She studied that compilation, noting some patterns with interest.

But she put it aside when Newsweb completed its latest task.

As she rose from her chair to go to the laser printer, she froze, surprised to discover she was no longer alone in the newsroom. Three reporters an an editor were at their desks, all guys with reputations as early birds including Hank Hawkins, editor of the business pages, who liked to be at work when the financial markets opened on the East Coast.

She hadn't been aware of them coming in. Two of them were sharing a joke, laughing loudly, and Hawkins was talking on the phone, but Holly hadn't heard them until after she'd seen them. She looked at the clock: 6:10. opalesant early-morning light played at the windows, though she had not realized that the tide of night had been receding. She glanced down at her desk saw two more paper coffee cups than she remembered getting from the vending machine.

She realized that she was no longer wallowing in despair. She felt better than she had felt in days. Weeks. Years She was a reporter again, for real She went to the laser printer, emptied the receiving tray, and return with the pages to her desk. Ironhearts evidently were not newsmakers.

There were only five stories involving people with that surname in the past six months.

Kevin Ironheart-Buffalo, New York. State senator. Announced his intention to run for governor.

Anna Denise Ironheart-Boca Raton, Florida. Found a live alligator in her family room.

Lori Ironheart-Los Angeles, California. Songwriter. Nominated for the Academy Award for best song of the year.

Valerie Ironheart-Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Gave birth to healthy quadruplets.

The last of the five was James Ironheart.

She looked at the heading. The story came from the Orange County Register April 10, and was one of scores of pieces on the same story that had been published statewide. Because of her instructions, the computer had printed out only this single instance, sparing her sheafs of similar articles on the same event.

She checked the dateline. Laguna Niguel. California. Southern California. The Southland.

The piece was not accompanied by a photograph, but the reporter's description of the man included a reference to blue eyes and thick brown hair. She was sure he was her James Ironheart.