In this mean city we should find nothing darkly amazing. Even in the age of police protection.
Block gurgled, "He's awake. I thought he was asleep. I was promised that he was in a full, deep sleep."
I got it, then. It wasn't the twisted healer. It was the Dead Man. I laughed. "Somebody lied. But not to worry. He doesn't poke around inside people just because he can. And when he does he passes on only what is germane. In this case, what this man knows about what was done to Morley Dotes. Meantime, we're going to lose him if he carries out the hypnotic instructions driving him."
"That can't be. I know a little about hypnotism. We use it in interrogations. You can't make somebody kill himself."
"Old Bones tells me you can if your victim doesn't know that's what he's doing. You make him think he's doing something else."
Whoever prepared this man was a genius. He started with a typical healer and made the man over into an assassin without triggering any serious conflict.
"And quick enough to prep him for Morley?"
Pay attention. We have established that this man has committed other crimes. I suspect that similar mental manipulations were used on Jimmy Two Steps.
"There is a connection?"
Information in General Block's mind, compared with facts in the healer's, makes that seem likely. The puppet master evidently agrees with the Al-Khar about you. You need to be kept away. You are a wild card. The cascade of events so far suggests that they might be right.
"Interesting." I began making further connections.
Yes. The attack on you and Miss Tate took place soon after Miss Contague decided to ask you to protect Mr. Dotes. Then, on successive nights, attempts were made to get you at Fire and Ice.
"Me? Not Morley?"
You, I am certain. Mr. Dotes would be useful collateral damage but would be neutralized anyway once he started his medication. You, however, have a history of stumbling around and causing avalanches of unexpected consequences. It is what you do. Particularly in the mind opposing us.
"This is someone we've run into before."
I expect only obliquely, if at all, with us taking no notice. Aha! I broke the code. I found the key to the sequence.
"Huh?"
The healer. I can save him. I have cracked the progression of suggestions laid into his mind.
"Good. Once you have him calmed down and set to go, turn him loose on Playmate. Accept no excuses."
Of course.
Block asked, "Interesting private chat?"
"Yes. He figured out how to save our healer assassin from himself."
"Excellent. I do have some questions for that man."
"Go through His Nibs. Otherwise, you'll be wasting your time."
Block did follow. He nodded, admitted, "This isn't the first bad guy to turn up with no notion why he did what he did and no idea who told him to do it."
Intriguing. The General is reflecting on thefts of chemicals that turned up in that warehouse.
"Bring them around, General. Let Old Bones chat them up. Meantime, how about you see the Children of the Light about this guy? They might be able to shed some light."
He refused to acknowledge my clever word play. "Ooh! That sounds like fun. Deal will be all over that. We wouldn't even be breaking any recent rules. This would be a separate case. An attempted murder possibly connected to successful murders that had no obvious connection with a warehouse in Elf Town."
I started to ask if the Guard had canvassed the neighborhood. I got a caution from the Dead Man. That had been ruled out by Prince Rupert.
"How about hunting the resurrection men? Has that been disallowed?"
Block smirked. "Not yet. But they're damned hard to find. They've been told to lie low and keep quiet by somebody who scares them more than we do."
That figured.
Belinda leaned into the doorway, which was the best she could do because of the crowd in the room already. "I got Kolda. It took a while. We had to run him down."
40
Block had arrived looking for one thing. He went out with something else in mind, but happy and eager to get to work.
The Dead Man would give him additional information. Soon the Al-Khar would be a-bustle. No one but the Director and the commanding general would know that the Guard was violating the spirit of their orders.
Kolda joined me in with Morley. He was nervous. Our history, while limited, left him no reason to think that he was in a good position. I told him, "You're an expert in chemicals and exotic herbs. My friend, here, has been poisoned. It's not lethal, it just keeps him from waking up. And it makes him heal really slow."
Kolda gave me a big-eyed, frightened look but didn't say anything.
"The pudgy character with Dollar Dan's paw tangled in his collar delivered the poison. That was given to him, along with a lot of money, by a third party, after Miss Contague engaged him to heal my friend. She gave him a lot of money, too."
Kolda had a worse flair for fashion than me. He couldn't keep his hair combed or his shirt tucked in. He was always nervous. His social skills were negligible. But he was a genius in his field. And he owed me.
I had insisted, to Block, that Kolda wasn't a poisoner. But he did poison me, once upon a time. I'm still breathing and complaining. The evidence suggests that I found the antidote.
I said, "Healer, give this man the bottle you brought today. Then Dollar Dan will take you across the hallway. Your redemption begins when you start work on Playmate."
He didn't want to do that. Freebies went against the code of the Children of the Light. "I understand." His voice was slow and toneless. He dug out a little bottle identical to the one he had given us during his visit to Fire and Ice.
I asked the air, "What are the chances this bottle contains the same ingredients as the first one?"
Indeterminate. Ten seconds passed. Clever catch, Garrett. He did, in fact, consult a contact after he heard that you needed more medicine. The excuse we provided was of a sort to excite the suspicions of a paranoid supplier.
"We do still have the original philter. Kolda can compare them."
The healer surrendered his new bottle. Dollar Dan hustled him across the hall.
I gave Kolda the original bottle. "This stuff goes three drops to a two-quart pitcher of water."
"Potent, then." With commendable caution he unstopped each bottle and took a gentle sniff. Of the new bottle he said, "This is vanilla, a touch of clove oil, another of castor oil, in wood alcohol. There is something more that I don't recognize." After sniffing the original bottle, he said, "This includes everything in the other bottle, with less of the unknown odor and more of something that smells like death."
"Definitely different formulas, then?"
"Yes. But subtly. Both would be deadly, in different ways."
I asked the air, "What do you think?"
You may be on the right trail. Neither oil of clove nor oil of castor ought to dissolve in cold water but their presence, with the vanilla, might be there to suggest that the concoction is medicinal.
"The poison has to be something that is effective in amounts so small. ."
The beans from which castor oil is rendered. They contain a poison so deadly that infinitesimal amounts can kill scores. The poisoner's dilemma has always been how to remain unpoisoned himself, then how to disperse the poison in an effective manner. It would appear that someone has found a way to use it, one customer at a time.