Oh, Boo, do something! she pleaded mentally.
Boo-Boo felt as though he was feeling his way blind in the dark. Ken Lewis had shown a distinct talent for concealment. Boo checked with friends, but neither he nor they had seen a good-looking man with a plain girl in blue jeans. When he stopped to consider his throbbing feet, he must have walked up and down the length of the riverfront twice already. He hadn't spotted either of his subjects. The trail wound around too many places. He was frustrated. Liz was back there alone trying to calm a nuclear bomb with a cup of chamomile tea. This exhibition would end pretty soon, as would the concert. Once the crowd broke up, his chances of finding two people in the mob dropped to parts per billion as everybody would make for his or her favorite bar. And that was just to start the night off.
It was beginning to look as though he would have to ask for a search of the waterfront warehouses. His heart sank as he counted the myriad windows reflecting the flying sparks of color. Robbie could be behind any one of them.
He'd give the Moon Walk five more minutes, and then call in the forces. Where could he get a view with some perspective?
The band shell, a modern gazebo, was raised about five feet above the cobblestone path. If he stood on the railings he would be able to see a good section of the walk. As he made his way through the crowd towards the structure, the magic detector started flashing as it picked up one mighty strong trace. Boo followed it, hoping he had found them at last.
When he had taken no more than six paces, the last of the lodestone powder ran out. The witchlight fizzled and went dark. Boo came to a halt, staring at his empty hand in dismay.
A little boy nearby on the grass looked up at him with sympathy in his large brown eyes.
"Aww," he said. "Here." He offered Boo one from his box of sparklers.
"Thanks, little brother," Boo-Boo said, giving the child a pat on the back. Might do in a pinch. He lit it and held it toward the gazebo, chanting the Words of Finding.
The silver flame ran down the length of the wire and exploded outward in a single, blinding blast. Pay dirt! He ran toward the gazebo, shoving past dozens of holidaymakers with their faces to the sky. Just in the shelter of the slanted roof on the far side he saw a couple of familiar profiles.
Boo-Boo stabbed the auto-dial button on his phone. "Liz!" he cried. "I've found 'em!"
Ken Lewis rolled back on one elbow, watching Robbie operate her invisible equipment. Now and again in his earphone he heard the crackle of confusion coming from the Superdome. He might have had a hard time in the beginning getting the sabotage under way, but now it was going so easy he was sorry he couldn't do it all over again.
He could cause anything to happen that he could get Robbie to visualize. That opened up the range of possibilities for mayhem to well... everything. But there wasn't much time left. Once the power had been converted the way Mr. Kingston wanted it, he needed to cause a massive reaction to make it go back into the transmission line and sent off to SATN-TV. A devastating disaster would cause the appropriate reaction.
How best to end the concert? Ken wondered dreamily as tantalizing possibilities danced before his eyes. Should he set fire to the roof and let it cascade down on the thousands of fans in the audience? Blow up the stage and launch goody-goody Fionna into space? Collapse the walls into a black hole? As long as Fionna Kenmare bit the big one, Ken could do what he liked. That had been the only non-negotiable stipulation Kingston had thrown into the contract. A mega-superstar knocked into eternity at the height of her powers and popularity ought to launch boatloads of fear and terror back through the link. And the publicity! Ken could just see the headlines. Every newspaper and television service would carry the story tomorrow. It'd be a blow against good magic all over the world. That ought to be good for another bonus. Plenty of extra hate and fear to feed the Greed Machine. Maybe Robbie ought to set off a ton of fireworks right on the stage itself, and blow them all to pieces.
Wait, he knew the perfect conclusion: the Jumbotron! What if Robbie dropped that on the band at the end of the concert? Everyone would be squashed flat, bang!
"Honey," he said, very casually, leaning forward over Robbie's shoulder, "you know that big box hanging over the stage? It's in the way. Gary wants you to take it down, right onto the stage."
"Won't it fall on people?" Robbie asked.
"Well, maybe a few," Ken said, picturing the headlines on the paper the next day: Rock Star Crushed to Death in Freak Accident. "Fionna, for one. C'mon, do it, baby. Just one big tug, and it'll all be over."
"No, I don't like that idea," Robbie said. "It's dangerous."
"Robbie, it's in your instructions," Ken said. "You have to."
"No, the fire marshall will never go along with it."
She was growing more agitated.
"Shake it, baby!" he ordered, into a sudden silence on the riverfront in between jazz numbers coming over the loudspeakers. People turned around to look at him. He gave them a sheepish smile. They went back to watching, and he turned to glare at Robbie. She shrank away from him.
"All right," she said, in a very small voice. Ken heard the gratifying crackle of confusion in his earphone. She might not like it, but she was doing it.
"Oooh," the crowd breathed.
"What's going on out there?" Liz asked, from inside her cocoon. She sensed a frisson of excitement tinged with fear breaking out from inside the mass enchantment. The building began to rumble underfoot.
Lloyd leaned back and peered out between the huge speakers.
"More of the usual monsters," he said, as though he was telling her the weather. "Michael just stomped a red rocket underfoot. The punters loved it. Hmm."
"What?"
"That 'ere box is moving around."
"Which box?" Liz asked. She experienced a moment of alarm, which was quickly mirrored by her support group. Deliberately squashing her feelings, she let her gaze follow Lloyd's pointing finger straight up. The Jumbotron! It swayed and moved backwards and forwards on its moorings. Fionna, still in midair, had noticed its movement, too, and was waving frantically at Liz.
Liz stood frozen in the midst of her support group. She had always had a horrible feeling that the Jumbotron might fall down. Her worst nightmare seemed on the verge of coming true. If the power continued to rise, not only the band, but hundreds of concertgoers near the stage, could also be crushed by it.
"Boo-Boo," she whispered, "hurry!"
"I don't want to make trouble for anyone," Robbie said, her fingers twisting in knots. She had gotten to the weepy stage. Time for a little more liquid courage. Ken poured another splash of tequila in her glass and added a double dose of drugs. "This has been the best job of my life, working for Green Fire."
"Come on, honey," he said, holding out the liquor, "they're no good to you." She drank it without paying attention. She was numb.
"Oh, yes, they are!" she insisted, muzzily. "Lloyd is always wonderful. Nigel is great. I really love Nigel. He called in those secret agents."
"Those spies are there to get you, baby," Ken said, looking into her eyes seriously. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot.
"They can't be," Robbie said, shaking her head. The action was grossly exaggerated. Ken caught her just before she fell over. "They're too nice."