The Illusionist - 3rd Edition Page 4

  What a strange dream. I guess Dakota's story had more of an effect on me than I imagined, she thought.

  Stepping from the tub, she grabbed an oversized towel, dried off, wrapped it around her, and walked into the bedroom. The huge bed looked so inviting she didn't bother to slip into her favorite tank top. Instead, she crawled under the sheet, closed her eyes, and fell quickly asleep, but not before laughter echoed softly through her weary mind.

  * * *

  Sonny Moreno leaned back in his recliner, listening attentively to the voice on the phone. Yemaya Lysanne was one of his favorite clients as well as a good friend. The early morning call had caught him by surprise.

  "Are you sure about this?" he asked, after hearing Yemaya's description of the events the night before.

  "I am sure, Sonny. This was not an accident. Someone cut the Plexiglas. We were lucky no one was seriously injured or killed," Yemaya replied.

  "You have any idea who would do this? Piss anyone off lately?" he half joked.

  "Sonny, I always anger someone, but if you think it might be a competitor, I would disagree. They have no reason."

  "In your mind, maybe. Don't sell yourself short — or them. Everyone is curious about you, and you've developed quite a cult following. Let's say you're right, though. That means it's someone with a personal vendetta."

  "Possibly," Yemaya said. "Or interested in me or my family. There have been some unusual inquiries into my government records lately. Raidon was checking on them for me."

  "Well, either way, we need to find out what this is about. I'll call him after we hang up. In the meantime, I'll put out feelers and talk to a few contacts to see if any rumors are in the pipeline about you. Try to keep a low profile and stay out of trouble until we see what this is about," Sonny admonished.

  "Low profile? I have one more show to do before going home. Not to mention settling things with the curator at the sea aquarium and finalizing the arrangements for Shezara's release. Charleston will have to be re-scheduled for next year."

  "Don't worry about any of that. I'll take care of everything. You just take care of yourself. Later, kiddo."

  "Later, Sonny, and thanks. Tell Raidon to call me this evening."

  * * *

  Hanging up the phone, Yemaya leaned back in her chair and stared out the penthouse window. Snapping her fingers, she remembered that she hadn't left her phone number with Dakota the night before. A quick call to the ticketing agency got her nowhere. Apparently, the ticket had been purchased through an organization by someone wishing to remain anonymous and no one had requested a refund.

  "Damn. Nothing is going right," Yemaya cursed. Pushing a speed dial number, she waited impatiently for the other party to pick up.

  "Hello. Sonny Marino speaking."

  "Sonny, this is Yemaya again. I need you to do me another favor. I met a journalist last night at the hospital. She was also at the performance. I want to get in touch with her, but she bought her ticket through an agency. Can you track her down for me? Her name is Dakota Devereaux. I’m not sure how the last name is spelled."

  "Personal or business?" Sonny asked.

  "Both, actually. She was sitting in the fifth row, seat fourteen. And, Sonny? I would appreciate it if you made this a priority."

  "I've never known you to mix business with pleasure. What's so special about this woman?"

  "Well, for one, she may have seen something. And two, my reasons are none of your business. Just do it, please."

  "Sure. No problem. I'll get right on it." Sonny's mind was going a mile a minute over the possibilities of why Yemaya was taking a personal interest in a stranger.

  "You are wrong on all accounts so put that overactive imagination of yours to sleep," Yemaya advised.

  "Hey, you're always doing that to me. How do you know what I'm thinking?"

  "I am a mind reader, Sonny. Surely, you have guessed that by now," she teased. "In the meantime, I will be in Montreal later in the week so I need the information quickly."

  "I'll do my best," Sonny promised.

  Thank you, Sonny. I owe you one."

  With Sonny taking over the investigation and handling the insurance claim, Yemaya decided to check on Suzanne. A phone call would have sufficed, but she felt obligated to pay a personal visit to the young woman to make sure she was getting the proper care.

  * * *

  Yemaya spent the afternoon at the hospital with Suzanne. Although her assistant wasn't seriously injured, she was still shaken up by the events.

  "Ms. Lysanne, I'm really sorry about… " Suzanne began when Yemaya walked into the room

  Holding up her hand, Yemaya stopped the young woman in mid-sentence.

  "You did nothing wrong, Suzanne. In fact, had you and Becky not discovered the damage to the platform, things could have been more serious. I am just happy you are doing so well."

  Suzanne grinned. "Me too. I heard Shezara bit you after you saved my life. Are you okay?"

  "I am fine. She nicked my leg but nothing that you need to worry about. By the way, the doctor said you can be released later today but you need to take it easy for a few days. He wants to see you in a week, though, to make sure that laceration is healing."

  "Yeah, he was in earlier." Suzanne reached up to touch the bandage around her forehead. "I guess I sliced it on some Plexiglas. I really don't remember much."

  "Probably. Everything happened so fast, I am not sure anyone knows for sure."

  For several seconds neither woman spoke as they remembered the previous evening's events.

  "Ms. Lysanne, do you know what happened to the platform? I mean it didn't look like a crack to me. The line was too straight."

  Yemaya shook her head.

  "I am not sure, Suzanne. The police are investigating it. As soon as they find out something, they will let me know. Right now my biggest concern is making sure you get well. I have made plans to have you picked up and taken to your hotel. Someone will be staying with you for a few days and then you can join us in Montreal for the last show."

  "But what about Charleston?"

  "It has been cancelled for now. We can reschedule another one during next year's tour."

  Suzanne sighed.

  "Okay, but I don't like it. I hate being idle."

  Patting her shoulder, Yemaya stood up to leave.

  "I know how you feel but sometimes we have no choice. Rest for now. I will talk to you tomorrow."

  "I will. Thanks for stopping by. It means a lot to me," Suzanne said shyly.

  "You are important to me too."

  After leaving the room, Yemaya stopped to talk to a middle-aged man in a dark business suit.

  "Make sure she gets whatever she needs," Yemaya said. "And screen all of the calls and visitors. No one is to talk to her unless it is her friends or family."

  "Understood, Ms. Lysanne," the man replied. "I'll call you if there's a problem."

  Yemaya gave a slight nod and then left. She was taking no chances until the reason for the sabotage was discovered.

  CHAPTER 4

  EDDIE FIDGETED nervously and stared at the floor. Sweat poured down his cheeks and neck. His collar was saturated making his skin itch but he knew better than to reach up to scratch it. Robert Chisholm, his employer, was a bully and enjoyed making people squirm.

  "What do you mean someone may have seen you?" Chisholm barked turning to glare at Eddie. "And these pictures are trash. Two pictures. I'm paying you fifteen hundred dollars for two lousy pictures. I paid five hundred dollars for the ticket, and this is the best you can do? You can't even see her face. She's in the fucking water for Christ's sake. I thought you said you were a professional photographer!" he screamed, throwing the photos on the cluttered mahogany desk before strolling to the large picture window overlooking the bay.

  "Sorry, Mr. Chisholm. It was dark, and everything happened so fast. She dove in just as I was snapping the shot, I might be able to fix them up a little," he offered. "Maybe sharpen the image some."
>
  "I don't want touchups, you asshole. I want clear pictures of Lysanne in action," Chisholm replied angrily. "I want my fifteen hundred dollars worth of pictures... not shit like this. Do you understand me?"

  "Yes, sir. I'll get them, sir, but it won't be easy." Eddie knew the minute he said it, he had made a mistake. Chisholm didn't accept excuses for anything.

  "I don't want to hear that, Jones. I want results. What's so difficult about taking pictures of this one woman?"

  "Her shows are screened for cameras and recorders before entering the main room. I was lucky I found someone at the aquarium I could bribe," the balding little man whined. "It cost me a hundred bucks," he added, wanting desperately to wipe his sweating forehead.

  "Considering I just paid fifteen hundred dollars for nothing, I'm sure you don't expect me to pay you back," Chisholm said coldly.

  "On, no, Mr. Chisholm. Not at all. I was just explaining how I got in and the difficulties. Anyway, everything happened so fast I couldn't get the shot in time. The flash must've attracted the young woman's attention because that's when she looked my way. I'm sure she couldn't see my face. It was very dark."

  "I can't take any chances. What did she look like and where was she sitting?" he demanded.

  "Uh... I think she was in the fifth or sixth row."

  Turning quickly, Robert Chisholm strolled toward Eddie and stopped in front of him.

  "What do you mean fifth or sixth row, Jones? Which is it?"

  "Sixth. It was the sixth, I'm sure," Jones stammered.

  "You're sure?"

  "Yeah. It was the sixth, and she was in the thirteenth seat," he added, stepping backward.

  "Then find out who was seated there and take care of her. You do know what I mean, right, Jones?"

  "Sure, Mr. Chisholm. But honestly, I don't think she saw me very well. It was really dark."

  "I said take care of it. Let me know when that's done… and Jones, no more mistakes. Now get out of here," Chisholm ordered.

  Eddy Jones scurried from the room, sweat pouring down his cheeks and dripping onto his wrinkled polyester suit. He dreaded the meetings with Robert Chisholm.

  "Fucking asshole," he muttered under his breath. "Guy thinks he can treat people like shit because he has money. One of these days... " The words faded when he remembered the rooms leading to Chisholm's office were monitored.

  He would make a few calls. It wouldn't be hard to find the woman or to make arrangements to have her taken care of.

  CHAPTER 5

  BRENDA SIMPSON HAD just finished discussing Chinese art with her eleventh-grade class. She loved teaching and regretted the thought of retirement at the end of the year. Still, with trips planned to Southeast Asia, specifically Thailand, Cambodia, and Burma, she felt reborn. The enthusiasm and energy she had directed toward advancing her students' interests in the arts was now being diverted to preparations for an eight-month odyssey in an area of the world she found the most interesting. Fifty-seven and single, she managed to stay in reasonably good shape. Exercising three times a week at the local gym for the past two years had ensured she would be able to make the treks across much of that part of Asia.

  Gathering her books, she hurried from the classroom. That afternoon, she needed to catch a quick flight to Charleston, South Carolina. In less than five hours, she would be at the sea aquarium to watch Yemaya Lysanne, the world-class illusionist who had recently been dominating entertainment magazines.

  Thanks to the raffle she had won two months earlier at the annual PTA picnic, she had an opportunity to witness a once-in-a-lifetime event. Reaching into her pants pocket, she pulled out the shiny silver and blue admittance ticket.

  "Admit one," she read aloud with a smile. "And I'm that one. Guess Lady Luck was with me that day."

  "You talking to yourself again, Brenda?"

  Looking up, she saw Bill Langley staring at her, barely successful at hiding his infamous quirky smile.

  "As usual, Bill," she replied, winking. "I have to catch my flight in time for the show."

  "Show? Oh, yeah, the lady magician," he teased.

  "Not a magician, an illusionist. One of the best."

  "Yeah, so I hear. You wouldn't have a spare ticket, would you?" he half joked.

  "I wouldn't even have this one at five hundred dollars a shot if I hadn't bought that raffle ticket a couple of months ago. One of the luckiest days of my life," she commented, showing him the ticket.

  Bill quickly glanced at the ticket in Brenda's hand.

  "Good seating. You'll get a great view from there. Well, take some pictures for me if you can, okay?"

  Not wanting to disappoint her teaching associate, Brenda just nodded. Later she could tell him cameras weren't allowed.

  "Gotta run, Bill. I'll see you Wednesday."

  "Sure thing, Brenda. Then you can tell me if she's as good as the papers say. Have a great time."

  * * *

  Brenda barely made it through the scanner and to her seat before the lights dimmed. The stage in front of the aquarium filled with a smoky mist. A shadowy figure walked through the swirling smoke and emerged in front of the audience. From that moment, the events of the evening would forever stay transfixed in her mind. By the time everything was over, Brenda was exhausted from the emotional stress. She would definitely have something to tell Bill and the others when she returned to work.

  The weekend passed quickly. Preparations for her overseas trip were finalized. Only four more weeks and she would be on her way. In the meantime, she knew her associates would be waiting for her in the conference room. The event at the sea aquarium had taken up most of the Saturday morning headlines. Even her mother had called to hear all about it. It took over two hours to answer her questions.

  Brenda juggled her briefcase, purse, and stack of paperwork as she locked the door to her car. The two extra days of leave allowed her time to recuperate from the hectic flight and weekend. Turning, she looked in both directions before crossing the road and headed into the subway system of Atlanta. It was a twenty-minute ride to her stop and another ten-minute walk to the high school in Doraville. With luck, she wouldn't have to wait very long for the train.

  At six thirty in the morning, the subways were crowded with commuters. MARTA was one of the most efficient public transport systems in the world. Rarely were there delays, and that morning was no different. As Brenda stepped up to the edge of the platform, she could hear the roar of the train coming through the tunnel. A strong breeze preceded the appearance of a light in the distance. Glancing at the oncoming train, she sighed, relieved at the prospect of settling into one of the seats to preview some of the paperwork in her arms. Just as the train was exiting the tunnel, she felt a body press against her, forcing her closer to the edge of the platform. Pushing backward, she turned to say something to the offender and lost her balance.

  * * *

  It took Eddy only six hours to track the owner of the ticket to row six, seat thirteen. Offer enough money to people, and it was amazing how quickly information could be gotten. What simplified it even more was the person had won the ticket at a raffle during a school function, so getting her personal information was easy. By Sunday afternoon, he had located Brenda Simpson's home address and school. By Sunday night he managed to take a quick picture of her talking to one of her neighbors. He hoped the woman wasn't telling Brenda that someone was asking about her. The neighbors were eager to talk about Brenda, especially when he identified himself as an investigator doing a background check on the teacher because she had been nominated for the Teacher of the Year award for Georgia. Obviously, he needed to check into her personal life to make sure she was worthy of such a prestigious recognition.

  A quick call to the school on Monday gave him all the information he needed about her return date to work. All that was left was for him to wait at the MARTA station nearest her.

  * * *

  Early Wednesday morning it was easy to spot the car the neighbors described. He had no dou
bt he would recognize her once she entered the subway, so he had gone ahead and positioned himself against the wall. As he watched the blonde woman walk past him, he turned his head nonchalantly to look at the MARTA map. Slowly pushing away from the wall, he followed her to the edge of the platform, positioning himself directly behind her. He began fumbling in his pockets as if looking for something. As the train cleared the tunnel, Eddie pretended to be bumped and fell against the woman. Startled, she twisted to see what had happened and lost her balance as his forward momentum propelled her away from him.

  For a split second, his eyes met her surprised look, then she fell backward onto the rails in front of the train. Eddy instinctively grabbed for her to keep her from falling, but the crowd had shuffled slightly, causing him to miss. Then the screams of horrified commuters and the pushing and shoving to get away or to get a better look made it impossible for him to see anything. Not that there was much to see. The train covered whatever remains there were of the woman. Turning away, he elbowed his way through the crowd and ran up the stairs. Once on the outside, he bent over, gasping raggedly for air, bile heaving up from his gut. It took all his energy to control the urge to vomit.