Chapter Three
He hated hospitals. Curt could count how many times he had been in one on three fingers. There was the day he was born, of course, the time he broke his arm at Boy Scout camp, and then the last time- when his parents had sent him to the psychiatric ward for electrotherapy. He'd never set foot in a hospital since the day they'd let him out, and he couldn't figure how he'd gotten to this one.
The room was blue and smelled sterile. He was restrained, tied to the bed with what felt like leather straps. If he'd been anywhere else, he might have enjoyed it, but not there. Never there.
Curt heard someone enter the room and he flailed his head, looking for them. "Come on, show yourself, you son of a-"
"Now, now," a voice said. "No need for insults."
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Unfortunately, I can't tell you that. But I need to ask you some questions."
"Ask away, bastard, but there's no way in hell I'll answer."
The man was quiet for a moment. "Look, we're trying to help someone close to you. We need some information."
"Some one close to me?" Curt blinked, thinking. "There is no one close to me."
"Maybe close is the wrong word, but Arthur Stuart is going to die unless we can stop it."
Curt froze. Arthur. The journalist from the Herald. The boy from the roof. "What do I have to do?"
*
Sam was sitting at the counter, eating muffins with who he'd thought was Curt's girlfriend when Al arrived. He looked startled at Al's arrival, but the woman had her back turned, luckily.
Al smiled. "Mornin', Sam." Sam nodded a greeting. Al continued. "Got some more information for you on your mission and Mr. Wild. First off, this isn't your girlfriend. Curt Wild is gay." Sam gave Al a scathing look, wishing the woman wasn't there so he could yell at Al. "Who she is, however, is Mandy Slade, ex-wife of pop star Brian Slade, your- Curt's- former lover."
Mandy chose that minute to turn around, glass of orange juice in hand. "I should just forget about him. Pretend he died in 1974. Pretend not to know that he's still prancing around as bloody Tommy Stone."
"Mandy-"
"Don't 'Mandy' me, Curt! I thought I'd escaped him, then that journalist came looking for his damn exclusive copy and I remembered it all!"
Al punched a few buttons, then said, "Yeah, yeah, Sam, this is why we're here. Ziggy says this journalist, Arthur Stuart, is gonna kick the bucket in a few days."
"Arthur," Sam murmured, remembering the young man from the night before.
"So he did get a hold of you. I was wondering about that." Mandy shook her head. "Nice kid. Its true what they say, you know. The good ones are either married or gay." She seemed to remember her own ex-husband and chuckled. "Or both." She checked her watch suddenly and said, "I gotta get going."
"Thanks for breakfast." Mandy kissed him on the cheek and left. He sighed and said, "You couldn't have told me he was gay last night?"
Al rolled his eyes, then said, "Look, Sam, this Arthur person is going to die in three days unless we stop it."
"What happens?"
"Arthur Stuart, 27, apparently discovers more about Tommy Stone, a big pop idol, than Tommy wants him to know. Music is a powerful business, Sam. Tommy Stone has Arthur assassinated."
He hated hospitals. Curt could count how many times he had been in one on three fingers. There was the day he was born, of course, the time he broke his arm at Boy Scout camp, and then the last time- when his parents had sent him to the psychiatric ward for electrotherapy. He'd never set foot in a hospital since the day they'd let him out, and he couldn't figure how he'd gotten to this one.
The room was blue and smelled sterile. He was restrained, tied to the bed with what felt like leather straps. If he'd been anywhere else, he might have enjoyed it, but not there. Never there.
Curt heard someone enter the room and he flailed his head, looking for them. "Come on, show yourself, you son of a-"
"Now, now," a voice said. "No need for insults."
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Unfortunately, I can't tell you that. But I need to ask you some questions."
"Ask away, bastard, but there's no way in hell I'll answer."
The man was quiet for a moment. "Look, we're trying to help someone close to you. We need some information."
"Some one close to me?" Curt blinked, thinking. "There is no one close to me."
"Maybe close is the wrong word, but Arthur Stuart is going to die unless we can stop it."
Curt froze. Arthur. The journalist from the Herald. The boy from the roof. "What do I have to do?"
*
Sam was sitting at the counter, eating muffins with who he'd thought was Curt's girlfriend when Al arrived. He looked startled at Al's arrival, but the woman had her back turned, luckily.
Al smiled. "Mornin', Sam." Sam nodded a greeting. Al continued. "Got some more information for you on your mission and Mr. Wild. First off, this isn't your girlfriend. Curt Wild is gay." Sam gave Al a scathing look, wishing the woman wasn't there so he could yell at Al. "Who she is, however, is Mandy Slade, ex-wife of pop star Brian Slade, your- Curt's- former lover."
Mandy chose that minute to turn around, glass of orange juice in hand. "I should just forget about him. Pretend he died in 1974. Pretend not to know that he's still prancing around as bloody Tommy Stone."
"Mandy-"
"Don't 'Mandy' me, Curt! I thought I'd escaped him, then that journalist came looking for his damn exclusive copy and I remembered it all!"
Al punched a few buttons, then said, "Yeah, yeah, Sam, this is why we're here. Ziggy says this journalist, Arthur Stuart, is gonna kick the bucket in a few days."
"Arthur," Sam murmured, remembering the young man from the night before.
"So he did get a hold of you. I was wondering about that." Mandy shook her head. "Nice kid. Its true what they say, you know. The good ones are either married or gay." She seemed to remember her own ex-husband and chuckled. "Or both." She checked her watch suddenly and said, "I gotta get going."
"Thanks for breakfast." Mandy kissed him on the cheek and left. He sighed and said, "You couldn't have told me he was gay last night?"
Al rolled his eyes, then said, "Look, Sam, this Arthur person is going to die in three days unless we stop it."
"What happens?"
"Arthur Stuart, 27, apparently discovers more about Tommy Stone, a big pop idol, than Tommy wants him to know. Music is a powerful business, Sam. Tommy Stone has Arthur assassinated."