FIVE

Prue checked her camera settings again. She was standing outside the Regency Hotel. If her information was correct – and it usually was – Steffan Van White would be leaving the hotel in a few minutes. Her source at the magazine had told her that he had a meeting in half an hour. All she had to do was wait until he came out and snap a few pictures.

Even as early as it was the streets were bustling with activity. With a little luck Mr. Van White wouldn't even notice her standing half secluded near the side of the building. At least all she had to do was get some pictures. The journalist writing the article had the real work to do. Sifting through page after page of information to garner whatever they could on the elusive Mr. Van White.

Movement caught her eye and she looked up to see a man come out of the front of the hotel. He looked around for a few minutes. Prue ignored him. He was much too old to be Mr. Van White. By all accounts Steffan Van White was no older than about twenty-five. Suddenly the man turned and walked directly to her.

"Excuse me," he said, "are you Prudence Halliwell?"

"Prue, actually," she said nervously. "I've never cared much for the name Prudence."

"Of course. Mr. Van White would be appreciative if you would visit him in his hotel suite. He wishes to speak with you."

"How does he know who I am?" she asked suspiciously. "And how did he know I was out here?"

"He'll be glad to answer all of your questions, Miss Halliwell."

"And if I say no?"

"You're free to leave. But I can assure you that you won't be getting any pictures of Mr. Van White today. He dislikes having his photograph taken."

Prue thought for a moment. With his resources Van White could find out anything he wanted about anyone he wanted. Only she didn't know why he would want to know about her. Or how he knew she was waiting outside to take his picture. After a moment her curiosity got the better of her. She simply nodded and started to head into the hotel.

"The camera will have to remain here, I'm afraid," said the man holding out his hand. "Rest assured it will be kept quite safe. It will be returned to you when your meeting with Mr. Van White is over."

Reluctantly Prue handed the man the camera.

"He's in suite 1214," said the man. "You can go right in. He's expecting you."

Prue went into the hotel and took the elevator to the twelfth floor. It was easy to locate room 1214. She hesitated at the door for a minute. Then, gathering her courage, she knocked. There was no answer. Hesitantly she opened the door and peered inside.

"Please come in."

The voice from inside the room took her by surprise. She looked around the hallway then slipped inside the room. Cautiously she closed the door behind her.

"I suppose you're wondering why I invited you up here," said a voice with a British accent from another room. "And I imagine you have a number of questions at the moment. Well, as Rupert told you, I'll be glad to answer any questions you have. Please, make yourself at home. I'll be out directly."

Prue looked around the room. It was exactly as she expected a suite at the Regency would be like. A room that would befit a man of Mr. Van Whites' station in life.

"Actually, I do have a couple of questions, Mr. Van White," Prue said. "Like how you knew who I was and how you knew I was waiting outside for you."

"I'll be more than happy to explain everything to you," said Van White. "And please call me Steffan. I've never been very comfortable being called Mister."

"Okay," said Prue.

Several moments passed and finally Van White walked into the main room of the suite. He was wearing a very expensive three-piece suit. His black hair was immaculately trimmed. Prue just stared at him in near disbelief. It was the same man she had seen walk out of the hospital the night before.

"A pleasure to formally meet you at last," said Van White. "I imagine this must be quite a shock for you."

"I . . . I don't know what you mean?" stammered Prue.

"Oh, come now, Prue," said Van White. "May I call you Prue? Let's not play games. We both know you recognize me from last night. I can see it in your face. And I, of course, recognize you. My people tell me some impressive things about you. Formerly of Buckland's Auction House. Before that a curator for a local museum."

"Assistant Curator," corrected Prue.

"Semantics. We both know it was really you who put together that exquisite exhibit that – what was his name – took credit for. And from what I hear you're becoming quite the photographer as well. Not to mention that beautiful manor you live in. Inherited it from your grandmother I understand."

"You seem to know a lot about me. Considering we never saw each other before last night."

"I have a great many resources at my disposal. When I recognized you last night I had my people check you out."

"Recognized me? How could you recognize me? As far as I know we've never met before."

"I'm sorry. I misspoke myself. I should have said when I recognized what you were."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You are a witch. And a powerful one if I'm not mistaken. Perhaps one powerful enough to help me."

"A witch?" said Prue with a nervous laugh. "You must be delusional."

"Please, don't insult my intelligence. If I had wanted to harm you believe me when I say it would be quite easy for me to do so. Those resources I mentioned before. They are considerable. I'm quite wealthy and there is very little I can't afford."

"Okay, for the sake of argument, let's say you're right. Let's say I am a witch. If you're so rich what do you need me for?"

"Something my wealth can't buy me. You all ready know my secret. At least the manifestation of it. I was quite careless. But I was in a hurry and wasn't watching where I was going. So I ended up in that hospital. Normally my chauffeur would have handled it. But he was tied up in traffic and couldn't get to me before the authorities got there."

"Okay I'll bite. Just what is this secret that I saw the manifestation of?"

"To put it bluntly, immortality. You see, Prue, again quite bluntly, I simply cannot die."