Page 5 of Circle of Death
Maddy doesn’t even smile. She turns and heads through the campus gate. “Don’t get lost on your way home, old-timer.”
CHAPTER 4
BY THE TIME I get back to the house, I’m myself again. In my own body. And I’m worn out. Sometimes I forget how much of a drain shape-shifting can be. It really takes a toll, especially in a fight. I have to remind myself that I can only hold another form for short stretches. Just long enough to get the job done. Even my invisibility power is limited now. I used to be able to disappear for hours at a time. Now I can only manage short bursts. I like to pretend that I’m the same Shadow I was in 1937. But I’m not.
When I walk through the front door, Margo is coming down the main staircase. “They’re here,” she says. “Your mystery guests.”
“All of them?”
“Three of them.”
“Whichthree?”
“Not sure. I was in the garden when they arrived. Jessica showed them into the library. She said they seemed confused.”
“Right. That’s not a surprise.”
If three are here, that means two are missing. Not good. I need the full team.
I give Margo a kiss on the cheek. “This can’t wait. I’ll get started.” I walk down the long corridor to the library. The pocket doors are open. I walk in and slide them closed behind me. The three visitors are poking around the room, checking out books and bric-a-brac. When they hear the doors shut, they all turn to face me. They look puzzled—and suspicious.
For me, the whole scene takes a few seconds to sink in. I can hardly believe my eyes. It’s like going back in time. After all these years, I’m looking at Jericho Druke, Moe Shrevnitz, and Burbank. Actually, their namesakes—the progeny of three of the best associates the Shadow ever had. And I realize that they have no idea who I am.
“Please sit,” I tell them. “Welcome.”
They all crowd onto the sofa. Jericho occupies a large percentage of the cushion. Like the original Jericho, he’s a huge Black man with bulging thighs and broad shoulders. The other two guests take what’s left of the real estate on either side of him. Moe is short and pudgy, with a graying crew cut and heavy jowls, like a bulldog. Burbank looks like he just came from teaching a computer class. Slight build. Thinning hair. Wire-frame glasses. Genes are amazing. All three are the spitting images of the men I once knew.
“Your invite,” says Jericho. “It didn’t say anything aboutwhywe’re here. Or who called this little conference.”
He’s right. I kept the message brief. I wasn’t sure they’d believe me if I told them the truth. And now I have to convince them. I can tell it’s going to take a solid sales pitch. So I get started.
“I want you to understand that I searched the world to find you guys. I know your talents. I know your skills. I know your reputations. And I know you can be trusted. I assume you’ve all introduced yourselves.”
“We know whoweare,” says Burbank. “Now who the hell areyou?”
I knew this was going to be the hard part. I pull over an armchair and set it in front of the sofa. I sit down and look each of them in the eye. Then I rip off the Band-Aid.
“I’m Lamont Cranston.”
Jericho scowls. “Bullshit! Lamont Cranston died in 1937.”
CHAPTER 5
I CAN SEE that all three of them are ready to walk out. Time for full disclosure.
“Jericho’s right,” I say. “Ididdie in 1937—temporarily.”
Moe leans forward. “What’sthatsupposed to mean?”
“I was poisoned by Shiwan Khan. A fatal dose. But I was saved by a medical procedure—an experimental technique that I financed myself. It held me in a state of cryogenic suspension until the toxin dissipated. Later, I was revived.”
“How much later?” asks Burbank.
“A hundred and fifty years.”
Jericho stands up. “Right. Okay, Sleeping Beauty, that’s enough for me.”
I’m losing them. But Ican’tlose them. So I plow right ahead.
