“Yes, I know. Not like anything else, is it? Now, tell me your address.”
Spector opened his mouth to answer and realized he could not remember. The information was simply gone.
“Selective amnesia. When a person is physically present with me, I can take out whatever I want.” He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Or I can remove everything.”
Spector was shaken, but knew that the old man’s power might also be used to remove the memory of his death. The loss of his power would be a small price to pay to sleep nights again. “I see what you mean. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“You see, Nurse Gresham, he’s no trouble at all. It would be stupid to kill someone who can be so useful. Inject him again and return him to his apartment before he wakes up.”
“Hold on a minute. Who are you? If you don’t mind telling me.”
“My real name would mean even less to you than it does to me. You can call me the Astronomer.”
Spector figured that anyone who called himself the Astronomer was certifiable, but this wasn’t the time or place to bring it up. “Fine. Well, Astronomer, what do you want me to do for you? The only thing I’m good at is killing people.”
The Astronomer nodded. “Precisely.”
Spector was nervous about killing a cop, especially since it was Captain McPherson. Nobody had been stupid or courageous enough to mess with the head of the Jokertown Special Forces Unit. The Astronomer had given him no choice. McPherson’s death had to appear accidental since one of the Astronomer’s people was in place to succeed him. If Spector failed or tried to get away, the Astronomer would brainwipe everything but his death.
He laced the shin guards on tightly and rolled his jeans down over them. He was also wearing additional protection under his shirt, on his forearms.
The Astronomer must have been planning to kill McPherson for some time. Spector was seated on a sofa in the apartment directly beneath his target. The woman who lived here was one of the Astronomer’s underlings. From what he had been told, McPherson’s maid was also in on the operation.
“If you want to replace someone, first replace the people around them,” the Astronomer had said.
Spector looked at the wall clock. It was between one and two in the morning. He checked to make sure the hypodermic was in his pocket, then turned out the lights and opened the balcony door.
He picked up the rope and hefted the padded grappling hook at the end. The distance to the balcony above was about twelve feet. He leaned out and tossed the hook. It landed perfectly, one large barb catching the edge above. A handful of snow fell on his face. He tugged at the rope. It snapped taut and the hook held fast.
Spector climbed up quickly and heaved himself over the edge of McPherson’s balcony. The accumulated snow muffled the sound of his feet on the concrete. He waited for a moment. He heard nothing from inside.
The maid had done as she’d been told. The balcony door was unlocked. Spector slid it open; a blast of cold air rushed into the apartment. He entered quietly and closed the door behind him.
The dog was waiting for him. He could see the red glow reflecting off the animal’s retinas. The dog growled a threat and charged. Spector could not clearly see the animal and threw up one arm to protect his vulnerable head and throat. With his free hand he reached for the hypodermic, which Nurse Gresham had given him.
The Doberman slammed into him, grabbing his extended arm in its jaws. He could feel it trying to bite through his armguard to sever his tendons.
He jabbed the hypodermic into the animal’s stomach. It continued to growl and grind away at his arm. A light came on in the next room. Now that he was able to see, Spector pushed the dog away. The Doberman fell heavily and tried immediately to stand.
“Get him, Oscar. Tear him to pieces.” The voice came from the lighted room.
Oscar tried to respond. He bared his teeth and took a step, then his eyes closed and he collapsed.
So far, so good, thought Spector. He faked a limp toward the lighted room. “I give up. Your dog hurt me bad. I need a doctor. Help me, please.” He tried to sound hurt.
“Oscar?” McPherson’s voice was unsure. “You all right boy?”
The dog breathed heavily and did not move. The light went out in the next room.
Spector fought down panic. He had not planned on McPherson turning the lights back off. His power was useless in the dark. He stood motionless for several long moments. There was no sound from the other room.
He took a step forward. He knew the layout of the apartment. The light switch was by the door on the right-hand side. To reach it, he would have to be fully exposed in the doorway. He knew McPherson had a gun and would be ready to use it. He began to sweat. The pain knotted up inside him, readying itself for the attack. He took another step. One more and he would be in the doorway.
Spector heard the sound of a telephone being lifted off the hook. He stepped forward and reached for the light switch. His finger came underneath it and turned on the lights.
McPherson was crouched behind a large brass bed. He had the phone in one hand and an automatic in the other. The gun was pointed at Spector’s heart. Their eyes met and locked. Spector remembered Mike’s dead finger and shuddered as his death experience flowed into McPherson.
The policeman trembled and gasped, then slowly keeled over behind the bed. Spector clenched his hands into fists and sighed. He moved to the dead man’s side and pulled the gun from his hand. He opened the drawer of the bedside table with one gloved hand and set the weapon carefully inside. Spector felt a surge of relief. He had vividly imagined the bullet ripping through his chest cavity, causing him to bleed to death before he could regenerate.
He picked up a pillow and threw it to the floor, like a wide receiver spiking a football after a touchdown. Now, maybe the Astronomer and Nurse Gresham would leave him alone. He put the pillow back in place.
The phone began to beep.
Spector put the receiver back on the hook and set the phone onto the bedside table. He sat on the rumpled bedspread and examined his victim. The look on McPherson’s face was the same as the one he imagined had been on his own face when he died.
“Is it dead, or is it Memorex?” he asked the corpse. “More impressive than breaking glass, eh, cop?”
He laughed.
Spector took a swallow of Jack Daniel’s Black Label and savored the warmth as it spread through his insides. He was lying on his lumpy mattress, staring at the small black-and-white television. A late-night news program was doing a rehash of the alien invasion. The monsters were still big enough news that McPherson’s death did not even make the front page of the Times.
The videotape of the attack at Grovers Mill was being shown for the thousandth time. A National Guard unit was using a flamethrower on one of the things. It made a high-pitched scream as it caught fire and burned. Spector shook his head. Being able to kill people by looking at them should be enough to give a person some security, but that was not the case. The space monsters gave him the same creepy feeling in his guts as the Astronomer. Spector hoped that he would never see or hear from the old man again, now that he had lived up to his part of the bargain.
The tape ended. “And now,” the announcer said, “for some final thoughts on this tragedy, we’re pleased to have as a guest—Dr. Tachyon.”
Spector picked up the almost-empty bottle and prepared to hurl it at the set. The air shimmered next to the bed and he felt the room grow colder. The translucent outline formed into a giant disembodied jackal’s head. Colored fire poured from its mouth and nostrils.
Spector fell off the bed, pulling the covers on top of him.
“Drinking again,” the jackal said. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you had a guilty conscience.” The head turned to vapor and formed quickly into the Astronomer.
“Holy shit. Is there anything you can’t do?” He tossed the covers aside and climbed back onto the bed.
“We all have our limitations. By the way, if
you see the jackal head again, address it as Lord Amun. I only appear that way by using an advanced form of astral projection. One of my less-impressive abilities, but it has its uses.” The Astronomer looked at the television. The tube went black with a crackle. “I don’t want any distractions.”
“Look, I did what you wanted. The guy is dead and everybody’s calling it a heart attack. Let’s say everything’s square, and you leave me alone now.” He threw the bottle at the image. It passed silently through and crashed against the opposite wall. “So fuck off.”
The Astronomer rubbed his forehead. “Don’t be foolish. That wouldn’t help either of us. We can use you. A man of your power would be a great help. But I’m not being entirely selfish in trying to get you to join us. It would be criminal to stand by and watch you waste your talent like this. You only need direction to realize your potential.”
“Oh,” said Spector, trying not to slur his speech. “My potential for what?”
“To be one of the ruling elite in a new society. To have others turn pale at the thought of you.” The Astronomer extended his ghostlike hands. “What I offer is no empty promise. The future is in our grasp at this very moment. What we are doing is of cosmic importance.”
“Sounds good,” Spector said without conviction. “I suppose if you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. But I’m not really in any shape to handle cosmic problems right now.”
“Of course. Get a good night’s sleep if you can. My car will pick you up outside your apartment at ten o’clock tomorrow night. You will learn a great deal, and take your first step on a path toward greatness.” The Astronomer’s image flickered and disappeared.
Spector was drunk and confused. He still did not trust the Astronomer, but the old man was right about one thing. He was wasting his new power and his new life. Now was the time to do something about it. One way or the other.
The Astronomer’s black limousine pulled up right on time. Spector tucked the .38 into his coat and walked slowly down to the front door. When he got the chance, he would kill the old man. The Astronomer was dangerous, and he knew too much to be trusted. A mirrored window lowered and a pale hand beckoned him into the car. The Astronomer’s head was swollen with large wrinkles that had not been there the night before. He was dressed in a black velvet robe and wore a necklace made of the 1794 pennies.
“Where are we going?” Spector tried to appear unconcerned. He knew that the gun was his only possible weapon against the Astronomer.
“Curiosity. That’s good. It means you’re interested.” The Astronomer adjusted his sash. “You’ve had a great deal of pain and death in your life. Tonight there will be more. But it won’t be your pain or death.”
Spector fidgeted. “Look, what do you really want from me? You’re going to an awful lot of trouble for an outsider. You must have something special in mind.”
“I always have something special in mind, but you must trust me when I say that you won’t be harmed. My powers took years of experimentation to control. Some you are already aware of. Others”—he rubbed his swollen forehead—“you will witness tonight. I have glimpsed the future, and you will play a great part in our victory. But your powers must be strengthened and honed. This can only happen if you are given the proper instruction.”
“Fine. You want me to kill more people for you, just say the word. Of course, I will expect to be paid. But I just don’t think I belong in your little group.” Spector shook his head. “I still don’t know who the hell you are.”
“We are those who understand the true nature of TIAMAT. Through her we will be given unimaginable power.” The Astronomer stared unafraid into his eyes. “The task will be difficult, and great sacrifice will be needed to accomplish it. When the job is done you can name your price.”
“TIAMAT,” Spector muttered. The Astronomer’s fervor seemed genuine, but he sounded insane. “Look, this is a bit much for me now. Just tell me where we’re going.”
“After a brief stop, to the Cloisters.”
“Isn’t that a little dangerous? Bad trouble on and off with teen gangs. Lots of people get killed there.”
The Astronomer laughed softly. “The gangs work for us. They keep people away, including police, and we help them in solidifying their local power base. The Cloisters is perfect for us, an old building on old soil. Perfect.”
Spector wanted to ask, perfect for what? but thought better of it. “You don’t have a controlling interest in the Metropolitan Museum, do you?” His attempt at humor went unnoticed.
“No. We did have another temple downtown, but it was destroyed in an unfortunate explosion. One of my very dear brothers was killed.” There was a satisfied sarcasm in the Astronomer’s tone. “Select a woman for us, Mr. Spector.”
The limousine cruised methodically through the Times Square area. “Why don’t you just have a call girl sent up to the Cloisters?” Spector had always wanted to harm a beautiful woman. “These bitches are the scum of the earth.”
“A call girl would be missed,” the Astronomer cautioned him. “And we don’t need a stunning beauty. We’ve had difficulties in the past when expensive women were used. Since then, we’ve had to be more careful.”
Spector sullenly accepted the advice and looked around. “The blonde over there isn’t too bad.”
“A good choice. Pull up next to her.” The Astronomer rubbed his hands together.
The driver eased the limousine over and the Astronomer lowered the window. “Excuse me, miss, could we interest you in a little party? A private one, of course.”
The woman stooped to look inside. She was young with dyed platinum hair and a no-nonsense disposition. Her tattered synthetic-fur coat fell open to reveal a well-proportioned body, which was only partially concealed by her tight black minidress.
“Slumming, boys?” She paused, waiting for a comment, then continued. “Since there’s two of you it’ll cost double. It’s extra for kink or anything else special you might have in mind. If you’re cops, I’ll tear your fucking hearts out.”
The Astronomer nodded. “That sounds fine to me. If my friend agrees.”
“Am I what you had in mind, honey?” The woman blew a wet kiss at Spector.
“Sure,” he said, not looking at her.
The West Side Highway was nearly empty and the trip took little time. The Astronomer had injected the woman with a drug that left her conscious, but unaware of her surroundings. As the car pulled into the driveway, Spector saw several shapes pressed close against the naked trees. In the dim light he caught the glint of cold steel. He fingered the .38 in his coat pocket to make sure it was still there.
Spector got out of the car and walked quickly around to the other side. He pulled the woman out and guided her toward the building. The Astronomer was walking slowly toward the doors.
“I thought you were crippled?”
“Sometimes I’m stronger than others. Tonight I must be as strong as possible.” A blast of cold wind whipped his robes about him, but he showed no sign of discomfort. He spoke briefly to a man at the door and shook his hand in a ritualistic manner. The man opened the door and motioned Spector to follow.
He had been inside the Cloisters several times when he was very young. The era conjured by the architecture, paintings, and tapestries seemed more pleasant to Spector than the one he was forced to live in.
In the foyer a carved marble beast loomed over them. It had an angular physique and small wings tucked against its broad back. Its head and mouth were huge. Thin taloned hands held a globe up to the vast fanged mouth. Spector recognized the globe as Earth.
A figure moved out from behind the statue and away from them. It wore a laboratory smock over its vaguely human shape. It hid its brown, insectlike face and disappeared into the shadows. Spector shuddered.
The woman giggled and pressed hard against him.
“Follow me,” the Astronomer said impatiently.
Spector did as he was told. He noted that the inter
ior of the building had been adorned with other hideous statuary and paintings. “You do magic, don’t you?”
The Astronomer stiffened at the word. “Magic. Magic is just a word that the ignorant use for power. The abilities you and I possess are not magic. They are a product of Takisian technology. Certain rituals which have heretofore been perceived as black magic, in fact, merely open sensory channels for those powers.”
The hallway opened into a courtyard. The moon and stars lit the snow-covered ground with a brilliant glow. Spector figured that this was where they must have interrogated him. There were two stone altars in the center of the courtyard. He saw a young man bound naked to one of them. The Astronomer moved to his captive’s side.
“Take the woman’s clothes off and tie her down,” said the Astronomer.
Spector stripped her and bound her hands and feet. The woman was still giggling. “Extra for kink. Extra for kink,” she said.
The Astronomer tossed him a gag. He shoved it into her mouth.
“Who is this guy?” Spector asked, indicating the naked man.
“The leader of a rival gang. He’s young, his heart is strong and his blood hot. Now, be quiet.”
The Astronomer raised his palms upward and began to speak in a language that Spector did not understand. Several other robed men and women moved silently into the courtyard. Many had their eyes closed. Others stared at the night sky. The Astronomer put his hand into the young man’s chest. The man screamed.
The Astronomer motioned to a group of people in the back of the courtyard with his free hand. A dozen or so carried a large cage toward the altar.
The creature inside was massive. Its furry, sausagelike body was built low to the ground and was supported by several short legs. The beast was mostly mouth and gleaming teeth like the statue in the foyer. It had two large, dark eyes and small ears, which were folded back against its head. Spector recognized it as one of the alien monstrosities.
The man continued to scream and plead. He was only an arm’s length from the thing’s open mouth. The cage was pushed slowly forward until the man’s head was between the bars. The creature’s jaws snapped shut, cutting off the final scream.