Patterson, James - Alex Cross 7 - Violets Are Blue

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JAAAES PATTERSON

it was hard for Kyle to blend in with a mostly young, hip crowd. He looked too much like a cop. The back of my throat was already beginning to burn from the smoke and the heavy perfume in the air. A gulp of beer soothed the gullet somewhat. My arm and hand still ached some from the bites. My head was clear, though; I definitely felt a lot better than I had. I liked having Jamilla around again. She gave good counsel. 'Kyle has a six-team surveillance on the magicians around the clock/I told her.'They won't lose them again. Kyle guarantees it.' 'The FBI thinks they're definitely the killers?'she asked.'No doubt about it? Lock 'em up, throw away the key?' 'Some doubt I suppose, but not much. You never know exactly what Kyle is thinking,'! told her.'But yes, I think he believes they are. The techies at Quantico do. So do I.' She studied me over the lip of her bottle of Jax. 'Sounds like the two of you are pretty tight, huh?' I nodded. 'We've worked a lot of cases together in the past few years. Our success rate is good. I can't say that I really know him.' 'I've never had much luck working with the FBI,' she said. 'That's just me though.' 'Part of my job is to make sure police relations with the Bureau run smoothly in DC. Kyle is definitely smart. He's just hard to read at times.' She sipped her beer slowly. 'Unlike somebody else at this table.' 'Unlike two somebodies at this table,'! corrected her, and we both laughed. Jamilla glanced toward the stage. 'What's the hold-up? Where are they? Should we start stamping our feet for them to come out and show us some magic? Show us what they've got?' We didn't have to - a moment later one of the magicians walked out onto the stage. It was Charles, and he looked like a killer.

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Alex Cross 7 - Violets Are Blue

Chapter Sixty-One

Charles was wearing a skintight black bodysuit and thigh-high patent leather boots. He had a simple diamond earring and a gold nose stud. He stared contemptuously at the audience. He did this for several uncomfortable moments, his eyes full of hatred and disdain for every case he encountered. At least twice, I thought that he looked directly at Jamilla and me. So did she. "Yeah, we're watching you too, asshole,' she said, raising her beer in mock salute.'You think those two pitiful creeps know we're here?' 'Who knows? They're good at this. They haven't been caught yet.' 'I hear you. Hopefully, they both have stomach cancer and will die slowly and painfully over the next few months. Cheers,' she raised her bottle again. Charles leaned down and spoke to a college-age couple at a table near the stage. He was miked. 'What are you two airheads staring at? Watch out, or I'll turn you into a couple of toads. Upgrade you on the food chain.' He laughed, and it was deep and throaty. To my ear, it was also unnecessarily unpleasant, way over the top. The kids in the audience laughed and cheered him on. Civility seems to be dead. Nasty is chic; nasty is so cool and real. I looked over at Jamilla.'He sees them as food. Interesting how his twisted mind works.' The second magician sauntered onto the stage a couple of minutes later. No magic gimmicks to announce the entrance, which surprised

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me. I had heard this was a real light-and-sound show, but not tonight. Why the style change? Was this for us? Did they know who we were? Tor the uninitiated, I'm Daniel. Charles and I have been doing magic shows since we were twelve years old and living in San Diego, California. We're very good at magic. We can do the “Vanishing Performer” - Houdini's personal favorite; the “Sword Cabinet”; Carl Hertz's “Merry Widow”; DeHolta's “Cocoon”. I can catch a bullet fired from a Colt Magnum in my teeth. So can Charles. Aren't we special? Don't you wish you were us?' The crowd howled and cheered. The rock music from the speakers had been lowered some. Only the beat droned on. 'The illusion you are about to witness is the same one “Harry” Robert Houdini used to close his show in Paris and New York. We're using it to open our show. Need I say more?' The lights suddenly flashed off. The stage was in total darkness. A few women in the audience screeched loudly. Mock fear. Mostly there was laughter, some of it nervous. What were these two up to? Jamilla nudged me with an elbow.'Don't be scared. I'm right here. I'll protect you.' 'I'll remember that.' Tiny pinpricks of light appeared everywhere on the stage. The main spots came on again. Nothing happened for the next minute or so. Then Daniel, riding a spirited, prancing white stallion, came out onto the stage. He was dressed in royal blue glitter from head to toe. He wore a matching top hat, and he tipped it to the cheering audience. 'I must admit this is pretty cool,' Jamilla said. 'Quite the stunt. So visual. Now what?' Daniel was followed onstage by eight men and women in crisp, white palace uniforms. And - two white tigers. It was a pretty amazing spectacle. Two female performers in white held up a huge Oriental fan in front of Daniel and his high-stepping horse. My eyes were glued to the stage. 'Jesus,'Jamilla muttered.'What the hell is this?'

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The/re ripping off “Hairy” Robert Houdini, like the man said. And the/re doing it well.' When they slowly pulled the Oriental fan away, Daniel was gone. Now Charles was seated on the white horse. 'Once again - Jesus,' said Jam. 'How do they do that?' Somehow, Charles had changed into black trash and glitter. The smirk on his face was totally, incredibly arrogant. It showed utter disdain for the audience, but they seemed to love it, to love him. A puff of smoke, and the audience gasped as one. Daniel was back onstage, standing alongside Charles and the spirited horse. The illusion was masterful. Everyone in the audience jumped up and clapped wildly. The screams and piercing whistles hurt my eardrums. 'And that,'Daniel announced,'is only the beginning! You ain't seen nothing yet!' Jamilla looked at me and her mouth sagged. 'Alex, these guys are very good, and I've seen Siegfried and Roy. Why are they playing at these little clubs? Why are they wasting their time here?' 'Because they want to,'I told her/This is where they look for prey.'

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Alex Cross 7 - Violets Are Blue

Chapter Sixty-Two

T amilla and I watched both magic shows that night. We were | amazed by the calmness and the confidence exuded by Daniel and Charles. Following the second show, the magicians went home. The agents on surveillance there said it appeared the two were settled for the night. I didn't get it, and neither did Jamilla. Eventually, around two in the morning, she and I returned to the Dauphine. Two FBI teams would stay near Daniel and Charles's place until morning. We were becoming frustrated and confused. We had a lot of manpower working their butts off. I wanted to ask Jamilla up for a beer, but I didn't. Too complicated for right now. Or maybe I was just getting chickenshit as I got older. Maybe I was even a little wiser. Nah. I was up again at six, making notes in my hotel room. I was learning some things I didn't want to know, and not just about magic tricks. I now knew that in the vampire underworld, the area surrounding the main home of a Regent or Elder was known as the domain. The FBI and the New Orleans police had staked out the neighborhood in the Garden District, where Daniel Erickson and Charles Defoe were staying. Their house was located on LaSalle near Sixth. It was greystone and probably had as many as twenty rooms. The house sat on a hill, with a high, reinforced stone outer wall similar to the outer curtain of a castle. It also had a large deep cellar, which wouldn't have been possible in the swampy, sea-level terrain without the elevation of the hill. Almost no one in the task force would admit that they believed