Shade City (22 page)

Soren stood up. "That's what this is about?" He looked to Pam and understanding swept over his face. "Dude, I already know that. He has friends at the company and found me through them. He initially told me he worked with them so I wouldn't think some creepy guy in a wheelchair was stalking me. But he came clean. He told me he was friends with my father and wanted to see how I was doing." I must have shown my disbelief. "I know. It sounds like bullshit. That's why I didn't say anything to Pam until I found out more. She thought he was Red Hat management until an hour ago."

Alexander was a step ahead of me. He had inside information about Red Hat, but it was a flimsy cover that he couldn't link to McAllister's persona. So he used that to get close to Soren. To get him away from the party. It was clever. However, this story about knowing his father couldn't be true. Or maybe it could. Did it matter? I instinctively pulled the pocket watch into my hand.

"Ah," said Alexander, "so this is all just a misunderstanding. It is good of you, Mr. Butcher, to watch over your friends so."

Pam pulled her fiancé back into his seat and everybody relaxed. Mr. Glickman was the only one who remained on edge. How was he involved in all of this? Either he was just doing his job or he had more sinister motivations. It was impossible to tell.

Before the silence grew too uncomfortable, Pam spoke up. "So, the both of you know each other?"

Alexander smiled and looked to me for an explanation. "Yes," I said. "I knew... his daughter. When she was alive."

The mood at the table became more solemn. Soren nodded. "He told me about her. It's very sad."

"Yes," agreed Alexander. "I am thankful for your friendship." I couldn't tell if his words were true or if he was just playing along. I looked at the four of them. They were a disparate group that didn't belong together. And I wasn't an exception. I understood what Alexander wanted. A young body. A strong host to start over with. But what was Soren's stake in all of this?

Violet's words ran through my mind like a cleansing stream. Of course. A sick man. Friends with an orphan's father. If anything could make friends out of strangers, it was money.

"He's giving you his money, isn't he?"

Soren was clearly surprised but answered quickly. "Yeah. Alexander cares about family—legacy. He wants to pass his things to somebody before he dies. He said he owes it to my father."

And it made sense. From the very beginning, from the moment Ambrose had approached Soren in Avalon, he was after the body. Mr. Glickman had said that McAllister woke up several times at Keck and the doctors were expecting an imminent recovery. That was the perfect time for Ambrose to lay the groundwork for a different future.

And I didn't have any way to warn Soren without sounding like a madman.

"Why don't we get you a chair so you can sit down," offered Pam. She looked back for a waitress but Alexander put his hand up.

"That is not necessary. I do confess that I have some business with Mr. Butcher. I must have been so wrapped up in our affairs that I woefully neglected him. Perhaps we should cut the night short. I do apologize. My solicitor can see you home."

The excitement had been enough for Mr. Glickman. He approved of the plan and expeditiously convinced the other two to go with him. When Soren stood up, I noticed he held a walking stick with a white rose. It was Ambrose's, from the dream.

Alexander saw my eyes catch it. "I certainly don't need that heirloom anymore," he said. Then he tapped the armrest of the wheelchair. When everyone was standing except him, I wondered if that was a ruse as well. Could Alexander really walk?

I thought to stop Soren and Pam from leaving, but wondered if they wouldn't be safer away from McAllister. I decided to play along. For now. When I shook Soren's hand and gave Pam a kiss on the cheek, I noted they were both clean. It was as I thought. A few moments later, the audience was gone. I sat across from Alexander McAllister.

"Have some wine, young friend." He poured a small amount in a new glass that was dropped off at the table and finished the bottle into his own. Given the situation, I normally would have declined the offer—but it was a Zinfandel from Paso Robles.

"Don't worry," I said under my breath. I held the wine glass in my right hand. Alexander looked at the pocket watch in my other. Of all the people in the restaurant, only the two of us were aware that we sat at a table for three. Four, if McAllister and Ambrose counted double.

"How was last night's party?" he asked.

"A clever diversion on your part."

Alexander scratched his tan hair and feigned sympathy. "I am sorry it turned out to be a waste of time."

"I didn't say it was."

His eyes searched for the meaning of my words. For some reason, he then felt the need to defend himself. "You were on to Red Hat's trail without me."

"I was on to Red Hat's trail
because
of you."

Alexander's face remained firm. "Regardless, I gave you the in that you wanted with the company. Our reasons are vastly different, but they are an enemy to us both. I was not lying about that."

The wine had a deep oaky flavor that went down briskly. "I won't let you take Soren," I stated plainly. McAllister smiled. "All that talk about repentance and becoming an honest man. That was bullshit. You served your time on the Dead Side when McAllister was in a coma. Just like you did when Finlay was in prison. But your ambitions never wavered. You still intended to steal the lives of others."

Alexander McAllister carried the formality that Ambrose had in the dream world. No longer was he the tired and confused man I had met in that dusky loft. He spoke with more drive and had a boldness that wouldn't bend. "You know so much yet so little, Mr. Butcher. Don't you see that Soren, and all the others, are yearning to house our kind? He is weak and looking for escape. He seeks inner strength, a strength greater than his own."

I raised my voice. "You can rationalize that bullshit all you want, but it's still crap."

"Sir, you will address me as a gentleman."

"Oh come on. That facade of propriety isn't fooling anyone. You can convince the world you're doing it a favor, but I'm never going to buy that."

"You don't need to, Mr. Butcher. You can live without ever living, if you choose. You can waste away in death like so many other souls. That is your right; just don't impose your narrow will on others."

My frustration must have been evident. The man was intractable. As I fumed, I realized there was only one eventual conclusion to our conversation. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "I don't know how but I'm going to stop you."

Alexander smiled confidently. He knew he had set off my temper. He reveled in it. "You have much to learn. You have this power yet do not understand it. It tugs at you. You grow weary."

I took a breath. It was true. I was losing my cool. But this man, speaking of power in a way that insinuated he knew more about me than myself, was making it difficult to be levelheaded. It wasn't easy to admit that a nemesis had the advantage in knowledge and practice. Maybe even strength. That's why I had to do things the way I was planning. It couldn't be done alone.

"You often speak of power," I said. "And yours is a great one. You're different. I can understand how it makes you feel invincible." Alexander looked at me intently as I spoke. "Most shades fight hard for their bonds with the flesh. Simply staying in this world is enough of a struggle."

Alexander was losing patience. "Many of us are above that trifle."

"And I have you to thank for bringing that to my attention. Violet never did. But I'm talking about your unique gift. You know how to jump into other bodies."

"At least for a little bit," he admitted. "Finlay had some gangster friends that I worked. They set up my return to wealth."

"And Sal. And who knows how many others. You laid the groundwork through them for this."

"I did. But those were all short-term visits. You are an expert now, no? With my daughter's help, you had better be. Like all others, I can only truly bond with one man at a time. The others are temporary distractions."

"Did you take the lawyer too?"

Alexander raised his eyebrows. "Mr. Glickman? No, no. He is a meek man, but surprisingly strong-willed. You know that this business only works with acceptable hosts. I am afraid our dear lawyer is in the dark about all of this. He respects Alexander greatly. Even more after recovering from a long hospital stay." Ambrose shook his head. "It is going to shake the poor man."

There was something about what he said that threw me. I couldn't conceptualize his whole strategy yet. But there was another plan. The one he didn't know about. The one I was working. The waitress returned with his check and Alexander signed it. After she left, I casually lit a cigarette.

Alexander McAllister raised an eyebrow. "I believe Los Angeles has laws prohibiting smoking in restaurants now. Even outdoors."

"Yeah, I'm always that asshole." I callously blew smoke across the table into his face.

"You do realize that sage won't expel me, Mr. Butcher. I've been at this too long. I know this business too well."

"I don't know that until I try it."

He sat a moment to give me the proof I needed. We both finished the wine. "Well then," he continued, "you certainly are aware that it would be useless to do so, even if it worked. I could just hop into another. Perhaps even Soren."

"Hmm," I said, flicking ash onto the floor. "That's why you sent him away."

"Indeed. And you've let him leave."

I smiled sardonically. It wasn't ideal, but it would do in a pinch. "No doubt the limo driver is none other than your bodyguard, Bedros."

"Ah, then we are both abreast of the situation."

Smoke billowed from my nose and mouth slowly. "And what are you planning on doing with Pam?"

The man grinned. "The same that any red-blooded American would, given half the chance." He must have seen my face darken. "Oh, don't worry. She will be a willing participant. I am not a monster."

I snorted at the appeal. Alexander Ambrose was an old man. He had a century on me. To be doing what he had been doing for so long must have completely broken his sense of morality. A man who could kill his own daughter could justify anything else with ease.

Violet had been quiet until now. Maybe it was her way of avoiding her father. Blocking out the association. But she had been listening. And she was thinking the same thing I was.

Once again, I burned inside.

"How could you do this?" I demanded. "How could you be such a son of a bitch? If not for what is just, can't you think about your daughter?"

Alexander didn't even register emotion. His face was stone, and his heart must have been harder.

"You disgust me," I said.

That got a reaction out of him. The man cared more about the respect afforded to him than the lives of others. With a disgruntled look on his face, he wheeled his chair away from and around the table. "If there is nothing else, Mr. Butcher—"

"Where do you think you're going?"

The wheelchair stopped right next to me. Alexander's eyes locked with mine in defiance. "A man is measured by his actions. A lifetime of accumulated behavior bears reputation."

"So?"

"So, sir, I believe you know full well where I am going and what I will do. I also know what you will do."

I swallowed. "What's that?"

Alexander Ambrose settled back in an unnatural comfort inside Alexander McAllister's body. "You will do nothing, Mr. Butcher. We've crossed paths four times before. Four times have we conversed. And four times you have done nothing." He stared dismissively at me. It was as though he didn't even have enough respect for me to harbor contempt. "You are a talker, Mr. Butcher. You play amongst children to feel large, but when you confront a man, you withdraw. You have no piece to play. No viable action to take. This is a game you are not up for."

Alexander rolled away. He was right about many things but wrong about the reasons. Shades of his caliber were new to me. I hadn't been able to confront him yet because I hadn't known how. His deceptions threw me off and Red Hat was a significant worry. To have rushed into this match without knowing the rules would have invited defeat. Now, I was far from an expert. But I thought I was getting a hang for the game.

I stood up and dug into my pocket. Crap. Soren's ring. I should have slipped it into Pam's purse or something. It didn't matter. It was a long shot. And it wasn't what I was reaching for.

Alexander wheeled himself into the open elevator with the assistance of the young hostess. I weaved my way through the tables and ignored everything else but the bead I had on him. I had tunnel vision. A single purpose. Nothing would let Alexander Ambrose get away from me tonight.

I shoved my hand between the closing elevator doors and they jerked to a halt and reversed. Alexander was only mildly surprised when I stepped inside next to him. He waited until we were in motion and had the elevator to ourselves to speak.

"More following. More watching," he said.

I grabbed the man by the hand. A strong surge of feeling flowed through me. His second shadow was a force worthy of awe that stood out from the dregs I was accustomed to. Its fingerprints were undeniable. "I'm afraid to disappoint you, Ambrose." I wasn't sure if he was going to remain calm or violently strike me, but he never got the chance. A puzzled look crossed his face as he heard the click of handcuffs locking his wrist to the chair.

"What's this?" he asked suddenly.

"Just something I picked up on the way here."