Test by Fire

"How's the kid, boss?" Moe asked Lamont as they pulled away from the brownstone.

"She's fine. Conway didn't attack us." Lamont said in a soft voice, removing his disguise. In the short time it took Moe to rush over to Marguerite's location, he had cleaned up the house as best he could. When she woke up, she would probably think that she had just collapsed in bed.

"Good." Moe said before looking back into the rear-view mirror. "Maybe I should be asking that about you. You look terrible."

Looking in the rear-view mirror, he saw why Moe was saying that. His blue eyes were red, five o'clock shadow appearing on his ashy face.

The night had taken a lot out of him…a buzzing sensation in his throat and his throbbing head bothered him. Also, his legs felt strange…almost as if they were about ready to collapse if he were standing. "I hope I'm not coming down with Marguerite's fever. She had a pretty rough night."

"You certainly look it." Moe said as he turned the corner. "Do you want me to get you home?"

"No. The Sanctum." Lamont said. He wanted to check in with Burbank and then get the vial he had uncovered to Dr. Tam.

"Boss, are you sure that's a good idea?" Moe asked as he turned the corner. "You look like you're about ready to collapse."

Lamont felt the Shadow taking over his psyche. No! The eerie voice reverberated throughout the cab. Moe looked about ready to jump out of his skin. For a moment, Lamont felt guilty for frightening Moe like that.

But it had to be done. He thought as he cast the clouding suggestion to hide himself getting changed into clean clothes.

Every second wasted was another opportunity for Conway to succeed.

I was awoken by a sense of urgency. My eyes shot open and I lay in bed, hearing my heart pound.

Sunlight fell onto my pale hand. My hair, still damp, surrounded my head in a tangled halo.

What happened? I wondered as I rubbed my tangled hair. Why is my hair wet? And why is there a chair right next to my bed?

I tried to remember…but all I could remember were deep blue eyes and a soft voice soothing me. It reminded me of…Lamont Cranston. That's ridiculous! I thought.

Lamont and I had barely spoken more than a dozen words to each other. Why in the world would he have spent the whole of last night with me?

No time for that. I thought. I need to get going. I felt my body sit up.

My vision began spinning and I doubled over. While my fever was gone, my head felt like it had been stuffed with a pound's worth of tissues. My throat still ached but it wasn't as strong as I remember it being.

I need to get up…go somewhere…anywhere… Pulled by a will that wasn't my own, I got up only to collapse on the floor.

God…that fever took more out of me than I thought. I thought as I grabbed the chair and used it to pull myself up. My legs felt so weak and wobbled as I stood up.

I hadn't felt this way since I was a child and came down with a nasty case of scarlet fever. I was bedridden for about a week and had to relearn how to walk when I was finally strong enough to get out of bed.

Keep walking Margo. I heard Mom's encouraging voice in my head. One foot before the other. Just get to the wardrobe and get out your robe.

Moe stopped a few blocks from the Sanctum as he usually did. "Here you are. Have a good day."

"Thanks Moe." Lamont said as he left the usual generous tip and opened the door to get out. As he went to stand up, his legs buckled. It was only by grabbing the door he was able to keep from collapsing in a heap onto the dirty street.

"You ok?" Moe asked from his seat.

"Yeah." Lamont said, feeling strangely weak. It didn't make sense to him. When he was in boot camp, he could easily march the ten miles a day and still have enough energy for a hundred pushups and crunches. Not to mention having the mental and physical energy to rid the city streets of crime every night for the past several years.

Not here. He felt like an infant that was just beginning to learn how to walk.

Just keep walking. A soft female voice said. Lamont looked around as he stumbled to his feet. He looked around for a few moments. But the crowd kept going forward.

Nobody has spoken to him. He thought as he reassured Moe one last time and closed the cab door. It took him a long time to walk the few blocks.

Just a few more feet and you'll be there. There it was again. He fought the urge to look around.

There was something unsettling about that voice.

It was very similar to…Annie Lane's.

But that wasn't possible. Lamont thought as he pulled the switches needed to unlock the door to the Sanctum.

While she and her late husband were his best agents, neither the Shadow nor Lamont hadn't spent much time with Annie. Not long enough to form an attachment.

The Tulku he trained under described the phenomenon as two souls being bound by each other's mental energy.

In other words, soul mates.

Bound by the red string of destiny as the ancient Asian philosophy went.

That wasn't possible. Annie was completely devoted to her husband and he to her. Lamont thought as the wall went up and he slipped behind it.

If there was an attachment, he would've felt it when she died. The feeling of half of his soul being ripped away. That certainly wasn't something he felt when they died.

Sadness certainly. Anger definately. But anguish? Many have died in the line of duty. As painful as it was, Lamont had to admit that there were no tears to shed for them.

I had barely managed to put on my blonde wig when there was a knock at my door. "Coming!" I said as loudly as I could manage. My legs felt stronger the more I moved but I still felt stiff as a board.

On the other side of the door was Mr. C. "Oh Mr. C!" I said as I opened the door. "I'm so sorry about running off…" My words halted as I saw how bad he looked. I could see that he hadn't shaved and his eyes were a fierce bright red.

To my great surprise, I was feeling sympathy for the other man. Yes. I was feeling a strange sense of sympathy and compassion for the man who not only murdered my parents in cold blood but had also tried to kill me.

"What happened?! Come in!" I said, taking him by the elbow and leading him into the house. A drink…get him a drink. I thought as I led him to the living room. "What would you like to drink?" I asked.

"Some water." Mr. C said. The pain in his heart was so intense, it could shatter glass. I thought as I ran off to the kitchen and got a glass of cold water. "Thanks." He said as I passed the glass into his hands. But he didn't drink.

He just stared at the glass in his hands, rotating it slightly. "What happened?" I said, sitting across from him.

"Alice …somebody broke into her townhouse just up the street from your house…she's dead." Mr. C said in a heartbroken voice.

Lamont Cranston sat in the back of the crowded lecture hall at N.Y.U. as it emptied. His strange symptoms had abated. At the front, a smaller man was busy wiping down the chalkboard. Dr. Roy Tam, a brilliant chemistry professor and agent of the Shadow was completely unaware that he still had company.

Lamont waited until the last student was out of the room before casting a suggestion of forgetfulness around the room. People wouldn't think to come in here while the suggestion was in place.

Tam paused as he realized that he wasn't alone. Turning around, he saw the man walking down the stairs of the lecture hall towards him. "Can I help you?" He asked.

"Today's a lovely day." Lamont said as he held out his fire opal.

Tam gave a faint smile and showed his ring. "But it seems I've forgotten my umbrella. What can I help you with today?"

"I need an analysis of this." Lamont said as he held up the vial he had swiped from Conway's warehouse yesterday evening.

"Done deal." Tam said before gesturing to the side door where his private lab was.

I sat numbly as I rubbed Mr. C's back. His head was in his hands, the now empty glass at his feet.

Alice was dead…while I didn't know her that well, I sensed the sorrow coming from Mr. C. It was all crushing, like I was caught in a storm I couldn't control. All I could do was hold on and pray for the sun to come out. "And do the police have any leads or ideas?" I asked, prepared to get as much information out as I could.

He shook his head sadly. "The police suspect it's a home invasion gone wrong."

My emotions were in a whirl. On one hand, I sensed that he had something more to do with her death than he was letting on.

On the other, he seemed genuinely broken by Alice's death…as if it had reminded him of a far greater loss.

"She was so beautiful…so young…so full of life…" Mr. C said in a hoarse voice. "Just like Helene…"

This got my attention immediately. "Who's Helene?" I asked.

Mr. C looked at me, his eyes a deep red. Taking a deep breath he told me. "My late wife."

I almost fell off of my chair. As big as a public figure as Mr. C was, I had no idea that he was widowed.

Then again, there weren't a lot of things about the man I didn't know.

"What happened to Helene?" I asked.

"She…she was killed some years ago during a botched robbery." Mr. C said, his voice cracking.

That was suspicious. I thought. One loved one dying during a botched robbery was tragic. Two was fishy. The Shadow needed to know this. He needed to know this now.

But how was I going to get the information to him? I wasn't sure I could write a note to the Shadow for the courier to carry. Not with him right there and liable to see any note I write.

And in any case, I didn't want to leave him. Not like this. He was probably capable of anything. At least I could keep an eye on him.

Pressure began building in my head. Ugh…I thought. I really needed to lie down after Mr. C left.

Lamont…I thought, rubbing my temples as if to relieve the pressure building. He could get the message to the Shadow for me. But how was I going to get it to him? I could take it to his house…but I had to deliver this in person and make sure that he and only he got it alone.

The Shadow was right…it was too dangerous for anyone to know that Margo Lane was alive.

Lamont rubbed his temples as Dr. Tam turned on the Bunsen burner. His head felt like somebody had filled it full of sawdust. He thought as Tam sprayed the vial's contents out of a squeeze bottle into the bright flame.

The once bright yellow flame immediately shot up, turning a deep, deep blue. It looked…almost black. Tam jumped back, surprised. My God… Lamont heard Tam's mind exclaim.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Lamont asked, feeling a frightening sense of déjà vu. He had recognized the flame turning black once, long ago. As a young man traveling through Haiti, working on several plantations…during a ceremony by a secretive sect…

"Only one collection of chemicals can. A very rare one." Dr. Tam said, turning off the Bunsen burner and heading to his thick tomes. Lamont heard him muttering to himself as he flipped through them. "Aha. Here we go. Your substance is a powerful neurotoxin produced by a root called Lang Dyab La."

Lamont recognized it easily. "Haitian Creole for Devil's Tongue." He said. Tam looked at him in surprise.

Got a good excuse this time, Cranston? He heard the Shadow chuckle in his mind. Would really hate for you to wipe his mind right now. Old man's got another lecture in a little over an hour. Can you imagine if he forgot something mid lecture…how embarrassing would that be?

Lamont shrugged the Shadow off. "Old friend of mine was a native speaker." He said, shrugging his shoulders. Back when he was known under a different name.

"Where did you say the vial came from?" Tam asked, beginning to write down the information for Burbank to relay to the Shadow.

"St. Thomas in the Caribbean." Lamont said. "Any idea why somebody would have so much of it?" He asked in a low voice.

Tam paused, a frightened look on his face. "It doesn't take much of this stuff to affect the central nervous system. A few drops in an eight ounce glass of water is enough to render a hundred and seventy-five pound man comatose for several hours. I've heard it described as the sleep of death. All breathing and heart rates slow to the point of being practically undetectable without proper medical equipment." He said. "Some victims of Devil's Tongue poisoning have nearly been buried alive."

Lamont nodded, remembering the ritual he had been forced to endure long ago…the one he had just barely escaped from…he shook the memory away. "Hypothetically speaking, if there's more than a few drops of this stuff in said eight ounces of water…?" Lamont asked.

"Then death will come in the span of hours, unless an antidote is given." Tam said. "The good thing about Lang Dyab La is that it can also be used to create its own antidote."

Lamont frowned, nodding. Whatever Conway had planned for New York was big. Really big. "How quickly can an antidote be produced?"

"From the sample you've given me? It'll take three days to synthesize." Dr. Tam said. "But I don't know if I can mass produce it if that's what you're asking. The lab here doesn't have that kind of equipment."

That wouldn't be a problem. Lamont thought. As long as Conway doesn't do anything ridiculous in that time frame. We'll have to watch him around the clock then. The Shadow said in response. Lamont bit back a groan. His body was exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. Maybe he should cancel dinner with Uncle Wainwright at the Cobalt to give his body and mind time to rest. "As long as our friend has a sample, then I should be able to make more."

"I'll send a note to him once it's ready." Tam said, finishing up his notes. "There. That should do it. Do you mind delivering this for me?" He asked as he slid the papers into an envelope. "I'd do it myself but I have another lecture in a few minutes."

"A done deal." Lamont said as Dr. Tam picked up a recent copy of the newspaper and folded the envelope carefully inside the newspaper to better conceal it. "You have a good afternoon, Dr. Tam."

"And yourself." Dr. Tam said, returning to his work.

Lamont sent out a mental project to Moe as he left the building. Moe, I'm ready.

The cabbie responded almost immediately. I'll be there in five minutes. Traffic here is driving me crazy.

Lamont chuckled to himself as he found a park bench to sit down on. As he did, he felt a strange emotion overcome him.

Anxiety.

He hadn't felt this way for a long time.

It was as if…somebody was trying to reach him telepathically…

Lamont Cranston. Not the Shadow.

But who?

Shake it off, Cranston. The Shadow's voice responded. Everything's been off this morning.

Rubbing his head, he shook off the telepathic vibes before noticing the headline of the newspaper Dr. Tam had wrapped the Shadow's message into.

WEALTHY SOCIALITE FOUND DEAD IN SUSPECTED BURGLARY.

What?! Lamont felt his heart stop as he quickly read over the article in question. Alice Munroe, connected to Oscar Conway, was found dead in her townhouse on Moorehead Road.

Moorehead Road…that was who Conway was talking about on the phone last night. He realized, feeling a sense of guilt threatening to eat him up.

You should've known. The Shadow's voice almost seemed to taunt him. If you had kept a mental eye open the whole time for Conway's presence, then Miss Munroe would still be alive.

But Margo would've died of her high fever…

Marguerite. Don't form attachments.

That's right. Lamont thought as Moe's cab stopped at the curb right by him.

Right after he dropped this off in the drop box, he'd go to the Sanctum for a quick rest before meeting Uncle Wainwright at the Cobalt Club tonight at seven.

Maybe the Police Commissioner would give him clues as to where to look next in regards to Alice Munroe's death.

Just when I was running out of ideas as to how to contact Lamont, an idea popped into my head.

Cobalt Club. Seven P.M.

Yes…I realized. I could head down there myself and get him.

But I would have to use another disguise in order to hide my identity.

Good thing I had tons of costumes to use.

A/N: Uh oh…seems there's something deeper going on between Lamont and Margo…