The Devil's Due Page 18

  Their limousine u-turned in front of a police barricade and lined up with the other cars pulling up in front of the red carpet. Fans clamored to see inside the car. When it was their turn, Alan smiled happily and said, “Once more unto the breach, dear friends. And try to have some fun,” he added with a grin.

  As Elizabeth stepped out of the car, the flashbulbs and cries to “look here” were overwhelming. Alan stood on one side and Simon on the other as they paused to give the press a few good shots. In front of them, an actual red carpet showed the path toward the forecourt of the theater. A voice boomed over loudspeakers that Alan Grant and friends had arrived and a cheer went up as the crowd pressed against the velvet ropes and security guards.

  Alan soaked it all in — the screaming, noise, the people reaching out to touch him. His eyes glittered in the bright lights.

  “A marvelous chaos, isn't it?” Alan said, before urging her to walk with him up the carpet.

  The three of them paused in the middle of the path for another set of pictures. Simon shifted uncomfortably next to her and frowned at the crowd, looking more like a bodyguard than a dashing escort. But he was dashing and so was Alan and the frenzy of energy was making her skin tingle. Not to mention that she was standing in the famous forecourt of Grauman's Chinese Theatre where stars had left their legacies in the shape of hand and footprints in cement.

  She idly wondered who she was standing on when another gentle tug on her elbow signaled it was time to move again. That's when she saw the large, heavy-set man straining the confines of his tuxedo vest. He smiled broadly and leaned into the two tall microphones standing in front of him. She didn't recognize the call letters emblazoned on the halos, but it was clear this was a big media event being broadcast live on the radio. “Alan Grant, ladies and gentlemen! Perhaps we can get him to stop in and say a word.”

  Alan's grin broadened as he stepped to the microphones and shook the man's hand. “Hello, Tom.”

  The man smiled and stepped back. Alan looked out over the crowd. “They say movies are magic. And I quite agree. But the real magic isn't the talent of the wonderful people who brought you tonight's picture or any other. It's you.”

  The buzz of the crowd died down, perhaps sensing something special about this moment.

  Alan looked out over the crowd, as in love with them as they were with him. He pointed out toward the throng, slowly moving his arm to encompass all of them. “When you walk through those doors,” he said pointing to the entrance to the theater, “you bring the magic with you. You open your hearts and minds to the impossible and believe. That's the magic of the movies. You. And I humbly thank you for letting me be a small part of it. Thank you. Good night.”

  Alan waved once more to the crowd and stepped back. The crowd applauded politely, unsure what to make of anything so heartfelt. Elizabeth and Simon moved to join Alan when the announcer jumped in their way. “And look who we have here! Mr. and Mrs. Cross, the heroes who joined Alan Grant in saving Sam Roth's life. Won't you say a few words?”

  Elizabeth looked to Alan for help, but he merely chuckled and nodded toward the microphone, mouthing the words “have fun.”

  Elizabeth hesitated and bobbed her head too close to the microphone and then back again a bit too far. Finally, she offered a tentative, “Hello.”

  “Speak up,” the announcer encouraged her, moving the microphone closer.

  “Hello, I'm very excited to be here. Mr. Grant has been so wonderful.” The crowd cheered, happy to be back on predictable ground. Photographic flashes put spots in her eyes. “Say, hello, Simon. This is my husband,” she said dragging Simon to her side. “Say hello, Simon.”

  Simon frowned and leaned down to the microphone. “Good evening.” His deep voice and crisp British accent caused a woman near them to wail and then swoon dramatically into her friend's arms.

  “You should hear him say good morning,” Elizabeth quipped.

  The announcer muscled in front of them. “Thank you, I see Dick Powell and Joan Blondell have just arrived!”

  Elizabeth started to step away from the mike, but leaned back in and quickly said, “May the force be with you.”

  Simon pulled her away to join Alan as the announcer frowned at her and started his brief commercial pitch. “Dew Deodorant. When nervousness makes you perspire, ladies, Dew will keep your secret.”

  Inside the theater they were greeted by more press and posed for a few more shots before Alan was led away to a special box at the back of the theater to sit with other stars and VIPs. They promised to meet by the south fountain in the forecourt after the movie was over. One of the dozens of usherettes who were dressed as chorus girls took Simon's and Elizabeth's tickets and led them out of the lobby and into the theater.

  The interior was as outlandish and wonderful as the outside. Towering, broad columns lined the edges of the theater and reached up to a ceiling that was covered with racing dragons and detailed inlay like a crazy Chinese restaurant. Crushed, red velvet seats and enormous red curtains topped the entire bilious design.

  They were seated along the aisle and the buzz of anticipation made the room surge with electricity. A pair of tall gentlemen asked to slip past them and into two seats in the middle of the row. Elizabeth stood and tried not to gape as a very young Henry Fonda and Jimmy Stewart made their way past.

  When the lights dimmed and the crowd settled, the orchestra started a lively rendition of a song Elizabeth didn't recognize, but the crowd certainly did and broke out in spontaneous and raucous applause. A single spotlight lit center stage and a chorus girl danced her way into it. And then another, and another until the stage was filled with dancing girls. The crowd loved it. The girls did two numbers of synchronized, Rockettes-style dancing before a little man with frizzy white hair introduced the film.

  As the lights dimmed and the Mammoth Studio's mascot trumpeted, it was easy to forget what tonight really was and what the future held. Elizabeth slipped her hand into Simon's. Whatever it was, they'd face it together.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Just as the credits began to roll, an usher in the traditional organ grinder monkey costume, came down the aisle and leaned down to ask, “Mr. and Mrs. Cross?”

  “Yes?” Simon said.

  “Mr. Grant wants to see you. If you'll follow me?”

  With the theater still in darkness they followed the usher up the aisle and through the nearly empty lobby. He led them down a long hall to what looked like a series of back offices.

  “Is everything all right?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Fine, ma'am,” the usher said as he stopped at a door nearly at the end of the hall. “He asked that you wait in here for him.”

  Simon felt it at the same moment she did. Something was wrong. He stopped and took hold of Elizabeth's elbow. She didn't need the hard squeeze to know he was on edge.

  “I think we'd like to use the restroom first,” Simon said. “They're back this way?” he said casually taking a step backward and subtly moving Elizabeth behind him.

  The usher's smile slid off his face as he reached into the waistband of his uniform and pulled out a gun.

  For a moment, Elizabeth idly wondered if she and Simon could get some sort of time travel kidnapping insurance policy.

  The man jerked his head to the side toward the door. “Get in.”

  Simon didn't move and she could see him calculating the odds of successfully disarming the other man. The usher must have seen something in Simon's face because he grinned and took a step back. “I wouldn't.”

  He waved the muzzle of the gun toward the door again. “Move.”

  They had no choice now. Simon reached back and took Elizabeth's hand. He held on tight as he opened the door and they stepped in.

  They'd barely set foot inside the door when someone grabbed Elizabeth from behind. A hand clamped over her mouth and she screamed into the cloth he was holding. She heard Simon try to call her name and the brief sounds of a struggle. She smelled the slightly sw
eet cloying odor and knew what would come next. Everything started to fade. Like the end of an old silent film, her conscious world shrank into a small circle of light as darkness overtook it and finally snuffed it out.

  When she came to, she had the same sharp headache she'd had the last time someone had chloroformed her. Hazily, Elizabeth realized it was probably not good that she had a previous experience to compare this one to. She blinked a few times to try to clear her head and felt someone gently slapping her cheek.

  She groaned and tried to shove the hand away, but her arms felt like they weighed a hundred pounds. “Stop it,” she mumbled and leaned her head back.

  Finally, the world started to focus and she saw a hand holding out a glass of water. “Drink this.”

  Her mouth was dry and pasty. She forced her arms to answer her command to move, but realized her wrists were bound together. She cradled the glass between her hands and forced a few sips down. The gauzy film that had coated her eyes finally washed away and she looked up to see where she was and who had given her water.

  Benny Roth smiled and took the glass from her hand before she thought to throw it at him. It looked like they were in one of Benny's clubs, but it was closed and empty and only a few dim lights lit the room. Benny set the glass down on the table he was leaning against. Behind him, sitting at the table was Mr. Thorn, looking bored.

  “Where's Simon?” Elizabeth tried to stand when strong hands clamped on her shoulder from behind and shoved her back down.

  Benny took a revolver from his jacket pocket, making sure she saw it, before placing it on the table next to him. He nodded to his left and she followed his gaze.

  “Simon!” she called out. He was tied to a chair about ten feet away; his head slumped forward onto his chest, his arms tied behind his back. She tried to stand again and the same hands shoved her back down.

  “He put up a pretty good fight,” Benny said, motioning to someone behind her. “Took two of mine to take him down.” He glared with displeasure at the big man who'd moved to Simon. “Wake him up.”

  The man grabbed Simon's hair. Elizabeth winced and struggled to stay in her seat as the man roughly pulled Simon's head up. She could see the blood tricking down Simon's chin and staining the white collar of his shirt. She wasn't tied to the chair like Simon was, but with her hands bound, all she could manage if she did stand would be an awkward two-handed Captain Kirk chop and somehow she doubted that would do anything to the gorilla manhandling Simon.

  The big man slapped Simon on the side of the face a few times until he was roused enough that he could hold his head up on his own. The man picked up a glass of water but instead of offering it to Simon he threw it in his face. Simon coughed, choking on some of the water. Elizabeth clenched her hands into fists in frustration. Simon shook his head and blinked his eyes. She saw it in his eyes — the moment he realized what had happened. He struggled against his bindings and called out for her.

  “I'm here,” she said. “I'm okay.”

  The panic in his eyes dulled to a cold anger as he looked at her and then at Roth. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. He coughed again and glared at Roth. “What do you want?”

  “Direct,” Roth said. “I like that.” He shrugged. “I'm a business man. This is a negotiation.”

  Roth stood and wagged a finger in the air. “You two've been snoopin' around. Even sent a man around to my clubs.” He put a hand over his heart. “My place of business. I take that sort of thing kinda personal. But, I coulda overlooked it, until you stuck your nose in with my brother.”

  Elizabeth remembered what Simon had said about Walter and Benny on the night of the attempt on Sam Roth's life and the pieces fell together in her mind. “You put Walter up to it.”

  “Kid was a sap. I shoulda just used one of my own. Cops woulda looked the other way for a price. Now, he's just another mess I had to clean up.” He sucked air between his teeth and tapped his temple. “Stupid kid. Didn't use his brain. Tried to sing. My boys on the inside made sure it was a short song.”

  Elizabeth glanced over at Simon. They both knew what that meant. That poor boy.

  “But,” Benny said, “like I said, I'm a business man and I've got more pressing matters.” He looked at his man and jerked his head. “Get out.”

  The big man nodded and left them alone in the empty club.

  “Let her go,” Simon said.

  Benny laughed. “These noble types, they're such a pain in the ass.” He walked over to Simon and gently, almost playfully, slapped him on the cheek. “Like I said, I'm here for business.” He stood next to Simon's chair. “I'm offering you a deal.”

  “What's that?” Simon asked.

  “Not you,” Benny said. “Her.”

  Elizabeth caught Simon's eye before she looked up to Benny. “Not interested.”

  “I think you will be. You see, you got something I need and I got something you want.” He put his hand on Simon's shoulder.

  Elizabeth's heart started to sink.

  “No doubt, you nosed around enough with Grant to know about my little deal with Thorn. So, I don't have to explain the particulars.” Benny shrugged. “Sufficed to say, you're gonna offer your soul in exchange for mine,” Benny said as he lifted the gun to Simon's temple. “Or I'm gonna blow your husband's brains out.”

  Elizabeth was sure her heart had stopped beating, just stopped. Her mouth went dry and her eyes shifted from the barrel of the gun pressed against Simon's head to his eyes, eyes that were pleading with her.

  “No,” Simon said.

  Benny pushed the gun harder against Simon's head. “Shut up.”

  Simon's eyes silently begged her to not to do it, everything about him was imploring her not to do this for him, not to do this to him.

  But, of course, she would. She had to.

  Maybe it was all just a trick of Thorn's. Another manipulation. They didn't know for certain that souls even existed much less that Thorn could somehow take control of one. She would agree. Of course, she would agree. And, even if Thorn was the Devil himself, Simon's life meant more to her than anything in the world, even her own soul. She could tell by the pained look in his eyes that Simon knew that too.

  Elizabeth turned to look at Thorn who was still sitting at one of the tables, but was looking far more interested than he had before. “I thought,” Elizabeth said, her mind scrambling to find purchase on something, “that it wouldn't work this way. That…that the soul had to be offered freely. Coercion would void the contract.”

  Thorn flattened his palms on the table. “True,” he said.

  Elizabeth felt her heart start beating again.

  “To an extent,” he continued as he stood. “You'd be hard pressed to find a man or woman willing to give their soul up for eternity if they weren't under some sort of duress.”

  “Being under duress and being coerced are not the same,” Simon said.

  “Perhaps the causes are not,” Thorn said, “but the results are.”

  “That's not fair,” Elizabeth said, knowing it was a stupid thing to say. There was nothing fair about any of this.

  Thorn spread his arms, palms up. “You are, of course, free to say no to the offer.”

  Elizabeth glanced at Simon. That was no choice at all.

  “There are different types of arrangements,” Thorn said. “This is standard. Boilerplate stuff really. Sam Roth's arrangement is much more complex.”

  That got Benny's attention. “What do ya mean, his arrangement?”

  Thorn smiled, a big fat fake oh dear, did I let that slip smile. He was toying with Benny like a cat with a mouse. “He…introduces me to people. Prospects.”

  “What do ya mean, he…” Elizabeth saw the penny drop. “Like me? He sold me out to you?”

  “And Grant and the girl and countless others.”

  “That son of a bitch,” Benny said. “My own brother.”

  Benny somehow managed to ignore the fact that he'd just tried to murder Sam. And would have i
f they hadn't saved his life, she realized with a sinking feeling.

  “Ours is a long-term arrangement,” Thorn said. “Yours, however, is not. And the proverbial clock is ticking, Mr. Roth.”

  Benny pushed up his sleeve and looked at his watch. “All right, let's get on with it.” He waved the gun at Simon.

  “What happens,” Elizabeth asked, “after?”

  “Elizabeth,” Simon ground out.

  Thorn ignored Simon and leaned back against the table in front of Elizabeth. “Your soul takes the place of Mr. Roth's and he's free to go about his normal life.”

  “And me?”

  “Well,” Thorn said, lacing his fingers and resting them against his thigh, “most die rather quickly.”

  “Elizabeth,” Simon said, struggling against his bonds, “you can't do this.”

  Benny cocked his gun. “What's it gonna be?”

  “Just a signature on a simple contract,” Thorn said, pulling a large folded paper from his inner jacket pocket.

  “Elizabeth!”

  “Hurry up!” Benny yelled.

  “All right,” Elizabeth said. “I'll do it.”

  “No,” Simon's voice was so filled with despair that she didn't dare look at him.

  “I have your word that Simon will be unharmed?”

  Thorn smiled. “You have my word.”

  Elizabeth stood and held up her bound hands. “I'll need these untied.”

  Benny barked out a laugh of triumph and came over to untie her wrists. Elizabeth looked past him. Simon was straining against the ropes that held him to the chair. His face was so anguished that it took Elizabeth's breath away.

  Benny grabbed her arm and turned her back toward him and Thorn. Thorn took a pen from his pocket and gave it to Benny, who held it out for her. Elizabeth gripped the pen and looked at it. Could someone really give his or her soul away with such a simple thing?