‘God dammit! Where have you got to? You can’t hide from me, you little slut!’ Channing had totally lost the plot. He extended a long arm into the cabinet just as I caught up with him.
‘Security’s on the way!’ I screamed, pounding with my fists on the man’s back. ‘Get out of here and leave my niece alone!’
I thought I might have gotten through because Channing did an about-face, shoved me roughly aside and went out the way he had come. But where was Julie?
The doors to the Vanishing Cabinet stood wide open. I peeked inside. Empty. Or was it? I didn’t have time to figure out how the illusion worked. I rapped on the open door. ‘Julie, if you’re in there somewhere, knock and let me know.’
Tap-tap-tap. Faint, but clear.
Thank God, I thought.
‘Stay there!’ I ordered. ‘I’ll be back for you. And don’t come out until I do!’
I spun on my heel to take up the chase, then stopped short. A large hand was pulling the curtain aside. Shit! Had Channing doubled back?
‘David!’ I cried when I saw the man’s face. ‘God, you scared me! Thank heaven’s you’re here. Did you call Security?’
He ignored my question. ‘Where’s Channing?’ he said darkly.
‘He went that way,’ I said, flapping my hand rapidly. ‘I don’t know how you missed him.’
David gazed past me, to the ruin that had been Channing’s props. He kicked at one of the Chinese rings, sending it rolling across the floor. With the toe of his shoe, he lifted the Indian Sword Basket and let it fall. He stooped, picked up one of the sabres, licked his thumb and used it to test the sharpness of the blade.
‘They’re not trick swords,’ I told him. ‘Be careful or you’ll cut yourself.’
Empty-eyed, moving with the rigid determination of a cemetery ghoul in Night of the Living Dead, David turned, almost trance-like, and pushed aside the curtain.
I doubt he even heard me.
TWENTY-FOUR
‘Another issue is the cost borne by U.S. taxpayers when the U.S. Coast Guard is enlisted to search for a missing passenger. This expense is not trivial. In just one case … the total cost incurred during the search was estimated by the Coast Guard to be $813,807.’
Testimony of Ross A. Klein, PhD before the Senate
Committee on Commerce, Science, and
Transportation, March 1, 2012
Raising the sabre high over his head, David charged through the curtain, screaming like a Rough Rider at the attack on San Juan Hill.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I yelled, running after him.
With energy I didn’t suspect he had, David sprinted down the aisle, almost catching up with Channing at the theater doors. Amazingly, the few people left standing in the aisle did nothing to stop them; they simply gave way and moved aside, widening the path. With Channing still in costume, and David waving a sabre, they may well have thought it was an impromptu encore.
David followed Channing out onto the deck, into the cool, breezy air with me pounding along after him. Channing looked right, left, then headed for the stern. A poor choice, as it turned out, as he drew up short at a high, steel mesh-covered fence designed to keep passengers, according to the sign, away from a crew-only area.
Channing tried the door, rattled the lock then looked back, his face deceptively calm, to see David gaining on him, brandishing the sabre. Quick as a wink, Channing produced his staff ID, swiped it through the electronic lock and threw open the door. Channing braced his palm against the mesh, trying to shut the door firmly behind him, but he was too late. David straight-armed the door, slamming it into Channing’s startled face.
Blood began to gush, running dark and wet down Channing’s upper lip. He swiped his hand across his mouth, studied it in the semi-darkness, stumbled, and fell to his knees.
The door clanged shut, the lock engaged.
On the other side of the mesh, David had Channing cornered at the end of a long, narrow balcony. Here and there dark shapes, which I took to be nautical equipment, were shrouded in canvas. A few sturdy plastic chairs sat jumbled together in an alcove.
‘What the hell is going on?’ I didn’t realize Pia had come up behind me until she spoke.
‘We have to stop David, or he’s going to kill Tom!’ I shouted.
‘But why?’ Pia cried. ‘What did Tom ever do to him?’
I grabbed the handle of the door and jiggled it up and down, but it wouldn’t open. ‘What’s out there?’
‘It’s the crew’s equipment area,’ Pia said breathlessly. ‘They sit out there sometimes, smoke and stuff.’
‘The door’s locked! Can you scan your ID and open it up?’
Pia’s hands flew to her chest, patted the pockets of her white cotton camp shirt. ‘I can’t, Hannah,’ she cried, ‘I must have left it in the dressing room!’
‘David!’ I yelled, banging on the grill with my fists. ‘Put down the sword! He’s not worth it!’
With his free hand, David grabbed one of the chairs, shook it free from the others, and tossed it after Channing. It slid into him where he lay sprawled next to the rail. ‘Stand up!’ he ordered.
Channing’s mouth gaped. He didn’t move.
David took a step closer, brandishing the sabre. ‘You don’t listen very well. Stand up, I said!’
Channing worked his way into a crawling position, then slowly rose to his feet. He shook his head as if to clear it, then said, ‘You’re out of your mind, you know that?’ His voice shook. Even in the dim light, I could see sweat glistening on the man’s brow.
‘Now, stand up on it,’ David ordered.
‘What?’
‘Stand up on the goddamn chair!’
When Channing didn’t move, the sabre flashed, connecting with Channing’s leg.
‘Up!’ David yelled.
‘I can’t!’ Channing screamed, clutching the gash in his leg as if trying to hold the wound together. Blood drained slowly from it, pooling on the floor next to his foot.
Pia grabbed my arm and tugged. ‘What’s wrong with David? Is he drunk?’
‘We just found out that Tom is the person who attacked Julie, so he’s probably the guy who murdered Charlotte, too.’
‘Tom? No way! You’re both crazy if you think that.’
I covered Pia’s hand where it rested on my arm and squeezed. ‘There’s a witness,’ I told her gently.
‘God, no!’
‘David!’ I yelled, trying to be heard over the howling of the wind. ‘Put the sabre down!’
He ignored me. ‘You have a decision to make, Channing. You can get up on the chair, or I can take this sabre and run you through. You choose.’
Holding on to the back of the chair for support, Channing slowly, painfully eased his wounded leg up on the chair. A few agonizing seconds later, he was standing unsteadily on the seat. His fine, silver hair whipped wildly around his forehead.
What was keeping Security?
Suddenly it hit me. David had never placed the call. ‘Pia!’ I whispered. ‘Call Security! I’ll see if I can talk some sense into David.’
On the other side of the barrier, David stood ramrod straight, legs slightly spread, sword tip pointed down in order arms position. ‘So, Channing. How are you enjoying the evening so far?’
‘I don’t even know who in fucking hell you are!’ Channing shouted into the wind.
David said, deadly calm, ‘I had a beautiful daughter once, Channing. Her name was Charlotte.’
Channing swayed as if slapped, but recovered quickly. ‘I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about.’
‘Let me refresh your memory, then,’ David snarled. He raised the sabre, rested the point against Channing’s chest. ‘Careful, careful,’ he warned. ‘Don’t lean forward or you might get hurt!’