The Wizard of Lovecraft's Cafe Read online

  “Natasha!” McGuire said. “What happened?”

  “Somebody died in that elevator, Mac. Died horribly.”

  “Yes, two Bureau agents,” said McGuire, nodding…

  “No… there was only one.”

  McGuire shook his head. “There were two. Agents Silver and Whelen. And one police officer. He survived, but he’s in the hospital, in critical condition.”

  Natasha shook her head. “No… no, that can’t be right,” she insisted. “Only one man died in that elevator. The psychic impressions are extremely strong. I could almost hear his mind screaming.

  “Magic,” she continued as she started to circle around the apartment, walking slowly with her arms slightly spread out from her sides, her eyes wide and alert, glancing all around, her breathing shallow. “Magic happened. There were several extremely powerful adepts here. I’m talking about the people who were living here. And the one who came for them.”

  “It was a raid, Natasha,” McGuire said. “Silver and Whelen came here to make an arrest.”

  She shook her head. “No… he came here to kill.”

  Also by Simon Hawke

  The Wizard of 4th Street

  The Wizard of Whitechapel

  The Wizard of Sunset Strip

  The Wizard of Rue Morgue

  Samurai Wizard

  The Reluctant Sorcerer

  The Nine Lives of Catseye Gomez

  The Wizard of Camelot

  The Wizard of Lovecraft’s Cafe

  Simon Hawke

  For John Silbersack

  Fifteen years later and we’re at it again.

  Just goes to show you, be nice to the people you meet on the way up, they’re the same people you’re gonna meet on the way down.

  With grateful acknowledgments to Robert M. Powers, consultant and confidant; Peggy Wiley, a man who’s trying to do about a hundred things at once couldn’t ask for a better “gal Friday”; Bruce Wiley, for lending me his wife to bring order to the chaos; Marge and James Kosky, the Black Nag will never be the same; Tina Morin, Emily Tuzson, Eve Jackson, and Michel Leckband, for calling every now and then to see if I’d self-destructed yet; Adele Leone and her staff, for helping to keep all the balls in the air; and all my fans, who help keep the madness going.

  PROLOGUE

  DETECTIVE LIEUTENANT JOHN ANGELO had never busted a sorcerer before and he wasn’t crazy about the idea of starting now. In fact, he was furious about the whole thing. Fresh out of the academy, he had started out in vice, which meant working undercover, something that appealed to Angelo. He enjoyed the thrill, the edgework. He had stayed there, turning down a transfer to the more glamorous homicide division and piling up an enviable record of arrests until he was assigned to the D.A.’s special Organized Crime Task Force. He had never worn a uniform and didn’t look anything like a cop. What he looked like was a gangster, or a cheap hood, or a pimp. Angelo could look like almost any sort of lowlife, but he had trouble looking like a cop. Still, when the B.O.T. agents had arrived at headquarters, it had been his bad luck to be there, pulling files on a case he was working on, and he had been swept up for the Bureau’s raid.

  “You don’t understand,” he had protested, “I work for the D.A . :…”

  “Not today,” the agent had replied. “Today you’re working for the Bureau.”

  “No way, Jack,” Angelo said. “I’m undercover.”

  “Perfect. We can use you.”

  Listen, jerkoff, I’m undercover, you know what that means? Organized Crime Task Force. I get spotted on your raid, my fucking cover’s blown. Forget about it.”

  “What’s your name, Detective?”

  “Angelo. Lieutenant John Angelo. And if you’ve got a problem, you can take it up with the D.A. I don’t have time for—”

  “I’m not the one who’s got a problem, Lt. Angelo,” the B.O.T. agent had said. “What I’ve got is a warrant signed by Superior Court Judge Chambliss and a carte blanche from Chief Morgan to requisition any personnel I need. You just got requisitioned.”

  “Yeah? Well, requisition this,” said Angelo, grabbing his crotch. “I work for D.A. Mathews.”

  “If I want your balls, Detective Angelo, I’ll have them on a plate,” the agent replied dryly. “It so happens the D.A. is very interested in this case. She’s liable to ride into the mayor’s office on this one, so I don’t really think she’s going to give a shit about one undercover cop’s cover being blown. Now you can either come with me right now or you can hand over your shield. I don’t have time to argue. What’s it going to be?”

  There had been nothing more to say. He knew the Bureau man could take his badge, just like that, and getting it back would be damn near impossible. All he could do was go along on the damn raid, try to keep his head down, and hope like hell he wasn’t spotted by anybody who could blow his cover. The Bureau didn’t care.

  He had never worked with the Bureau of Thaumaturgy before, but he had seen how they could throw their weight around. When the Bureau snapped their fingers, the entire department jumped. And they snapped their fingers pretty much anytime they felt like it. Crime involving magic use was a very big deal and the B.O.T. had sole jurisdiction in that area. Angelo did not begrudge them that. Not being an adept himself, he had no desire to go chasing criminal adepts. Chasing ordinary criminals was challenging enough. What he resented was the Bureau’s lording it over the department, as if the cops were just a bunch of flunkies they could call on anytime they needed some warm bodies. Like this time.

  They were in a hurry. They hadn’t even bothered with a full briefing. It was a sensitive case, they said, and the department personnel were on a strict “need-to-know” basis. What that meant was there were some minor details they didn’t want the rank and file to know; about. The sort of minor details that could get somebody killed, thought Angelo. He hadn’t wanted to go on this damn raid in the first place, and as things developed, he felt less and less enthused about it.

  Why had they swept him up in it? Because they had also swept up about half the cops in the entire city, or so it seemed, at least. When they got to Sutton Place, enough unmarked cars had converged on the block to start a used car lot, and even more black-and-whites had taken up position in the surrounding six-block area. He noticed snipers stationed on the rooftops and several choppers cruising over the East River. Whatever the hell was going down, Angelo thought uneasily, it had to be pretty damn big. The reason he felt uneasy about it was that he would be one of the first to go in.

  “This isn’t a raid, it’s a fuckin’ invasion,” Angelo said to the Bureau man seated next to him in the back of the unmarked unit. “Just what is it this guy Cornwall is supposed to have done?”

  “He’s a cop killer,” Agent Silver replied. “And he’s taken out several of our top Bureau agents.”

  “No shit. So how come I’ve never seen a sheet on him?”

  “Because you weren’t cleared to,” Silver said curtly. “This is a top priority I.T.C. case.”

  “The Commission wants this guy?” said Angelo. He whistled softly. If the International Thaumaturgical Commission had jurisdiction in this case, then it was major magic crime and international in scope and that would explain why the Bureau was so hot and bothered. The Bureau answered to nobody… except the I.T.C. “Who the hell is he?”

  “A renegade adept,” said Silver’s partner, Whelen, from the front seat. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “Wrong, Gandalf,” Angelo said. “If you expect me to go in there and put my sweet alabaster ass on the line, I’m gonna have to know a lot more.”

  “All we expect you to do is provide a brief distraction,” Agent Whelen said. “We’ll take care of the rest.
We know what we’re doing.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s why you assembled a goddamn army to take this guy down,” said Angelo. “What is he, a fuckin’ necromancer, for Christ’s sake?”

  The B.O.T. men simply stared at him in stony silence.

  “Aw, fuck me,” said Angelo, slumping back against the seat. “It’s him, isn’t it, the guy who wasted all those people in L.A. and New Mexico?”

  “You seem rather well informed,” said Silver.

  “What do you think, I live in a closet? If this is the same guy, he’s the biggest serial killer since Count Dracula. And you expect me to go in there and distract him while you blow the whistle?”

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Silver said.

  “That’s a real comforting thought,” Angelo replied wryly. “Why me? Why do I get this dubious honor? I’m not an adept.”

  “That’s precisely why,” said Silver. “He might well be able to detect it if you were. Also, you don’t look like a cop. You may be able to take him off guard.”

  “May?”

  “There are no guarantees in life, Lieutenant. But if you pull this off, you’ll be able to write your own ticket. There may eves be a captaincy in it for you.”

  “And if I don’t pull it off, I’ll be a dead man. And to think I was only worried about my cover being blown.” Angelo snorted. “What exactly is it I’m supposed to do to distract this guy?”

  “It’s simple enough,” said Agent Silver. “You will deliver pizza to him.”

  “Pizza?”

  “Pizza.”

  “You gotta be kiddin’ me. He’d have to be a moron to fall for that.”

  “Which is precisely why it’s going to work,” said Silver. ‘ He would never suspect something so obvious. You’re young and you don’t look like a cop. And you dress like a slob, which helps. He will simply think it’s an honest mistake and you got the wrong address. You will be insistent, and—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know the dodge, it’s one of the oldest tricks in the book,” said Angelo, shaking his head. “A two-bit dope dealer wouldn’t even go for it.”

  “Well, if he doesn’t go for it, then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” said Silver. “He simply won’t let you up and we shall have to try a more direct approach.”

  “And meanwhile he’s been warned that something’s going down,” said Angelo.

  “Perhaps,” said Whelen. “That depends on how convincing you are.”

  “Swell,” said Angelo.

  An unmarked unit pulled up beside their car. “I got your pies,” the driver said.

  “Okay, Angelo, you’re on,” said Agent Silver.

  “Shit,” said Angelo.

  The man in the unit with the pies gave him a jacket and a hat from the pizza delivery service, then handed him two steaming pizza boxes.

  “All units, stand by,” said Silver into his handset. He turned to Angelo. “We’ll be coming in right behind you,” he said. “Just act like a delivery boy, that’s all. Don’t try any heroics. This man’s a skilled adept and he’s a killer. What’s more, he’s probably got at least two or three confederates in there with him. Just get them to open the door and keep them talking, then when we make our move, get the hell out of the way. Shoot only if you absolutely have to, but try not to hit any of us.”

  “Very funny,” Angelo said wryly. “What do I do if the bastard throws a spell at me?”

  “Duck,” said Whelen.

  “You guys are a couple of real comedians,” said Angelo, zipping up the red, white, and blue jacket and adjusting his cap. “How do I look?”

  “Like a guinea delivery boy from Brooklyn,” Whelen replied.

  “Up yours,” said Angelo. “Okay, we goin’?”

  “We’re going,” Silver said, getting out of the car. He spoke into his handheld. “This is Silver. All units, stand by to move on my word. All backup uniform units, start sealing off the area right now. I want the roadblocks up, nobody in or out. That means nobody, no exceptions. Sharpshooters, stand by for targets of opportunity. First team, move into position now. Silver out.” He glanced up at the darkening sky. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”

  “Yeah, there’s a big storm front coming in,” said Whelen. “It’s going to ground the choppers. And the sharpshooters won’t be able to see a damn thing when it hits.”

  “Then we’d better not waste any more time,” said Silver. He turned to Angelo. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

  They crossed the street to the building entrance, Angelo carrying the pizza boxes in an insulating warmer. They went through the front door into the alcove. Angelo glanced at the rows of buttons on the buzzer panel.

  “Wait,” said Silver. He pointed at the camera mounted over the panel. He made a slight gesture at the inner door and the locking mechanism quietly clicked open.

  “What the hell do you need me for?” Angelo asked as the door silently swung open by itself.

  “I told you, a distraction,” Silver said. He spoke into his handheld. “First team, repeat, first team… move in now. All other units stand by.”

  They waited a moment or two, then heard the sound of running footsteps as the S.W.A.T. team came around the side of the building and up the steps to the front entrance, weapons held ready. Silver held the door for them as they moved quickly inside. “Stairs,” he said. “Move it.”

  The S.W.A.T. team members fanned out across the lobby and headed for the stairway doors. Whelen and Silver followed them inside, while Angelo waited in the alcove. Whelen went to get the elevator. When the door slid open, he quickly checked inside, then waved to Silver. Silver motioned Angelo to hit the buzzer.

  Angelo pressed the button for the penthouse. A moment later a young female voice responded, “Yes?” “Pizza man,” said Angelo in a monotone. We didn’t order any pizza.”

  Angelo made a pretense of checking the address, then glanced up toward the camera. “It says here two large pies, one plain, one pepperoni, deliver to penthouse, this address.” “There must be a mistake.”

  “Your name ain’t Bellamy?”

  There’s no one here by that name. I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong address.”

  ‘Fricken’ Christ,” said Angelo. “They screwed up on me again. What the hell am I supposed to do with these pies?” ‘I’m sorry.”

  “ Shit. Hey, lady, look, how’s about I give ‘em to you half price? Keep ‘em from goin’ to waste. Help me out, whaddya say?”

  “Half price?”

  “Yeah, two large pies, ten bucks, includin’ tip. Such a deal. Nice and hot. How’s about it? Whaddya say?”

  “What kind are they again?”

  “One plain, one pepperoni. Come on, lady, gimme a Creak. These are good pies. Be a shame to waste ‘em.”

  “Oh, all right. Come on up.”

  The buzzer sounded. The door was already open, however. Whelen had wedged it when he went through.

  “Okay, all units, count down thirty seconds and move in!” Silver said into his handheld. “Repeat, count down thirty seconds and move in!” He grabbed Angelo’s arm and hurried him toward the elevator. “Well done,” he said with a nod at the panel. The floor button was keyed, so they would have to bring him up.

  Angelo pressed the intercom button. “Hey, lady? It’s me. The pizza guy.”

  “‘All right,” said the female voice over the speaker. “Hold on.”

  The door slid shut and the elevator started to ascend.

  “Okay, we’re in,” said Angelo, turning around. “Jesus, I can’t believe they fell for…” His voice trailed off as he saw Whelen’s body slump to the floor of the elevator. “What the…”

  Silver turned to face him. His eyes were glowing with a bright blue fire. Angeio tried to drop the pies and go for his gun, but not a single muscle in his body would respond. He felt himself suddenly go cold all over as icy tentacles squirmed into his mind. Inwardly, he screamed, but outwardly, he couldn’t make a sound. He felt a curious, numbing, ve
rtiginous sensation, and then he could no longer see or hear or smell or feel a thing.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “WHO WAS THAT?” asked Wyrdrune, coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

  “Pizza man,” said Kira.

  Billy looked up from the computer screen. “You ordered pizza?”

  “Well, no,” Kira explained, “he delivered to our address by mistake, but said he’d give me half off on two large pies if I took them anyway, so I figured what the hell. We haven’t eaten yet and I was getting kind of hungry.”

  Wyrdrune stopped in the center of the room. “He delivered to our address by mistake? To the penthouse?”

  Kira shrugged. “That’s what he said. I checked him out. He looked okay, so I buzzed him in.”

  “That was rather careless, wasn’t it?” Billy said, swiveling his chair around.

  “He’s on his way up right now,” said Kira. “Why, you don’t suppose—”

  The lights suddenly started strobing rapidly.

  “Somebody’s just set off the spell wards in the stairway,” Wyrdrune said.

  Billy quickly turned back to the computer. “Archimedes, security check!”

  “Working,” said the little sentient computer, speaking in a voice that sounded like a chipmunk on helium. The monitor screen flashed quickly from one remote security camera to another. “Intruders present on the stairs and in the front lobby,” the computer said.

  “Shit,” said Billy, looking at the screen. “We’ve got an entire S.W.A.T. team on the stairs, coming up fast, and the whole lobby’s crawling with cops!”

  The sound of sirens drifted up from the street.

  “I’m sorry,” Kira said, looking chagrined. “I thought—”

  The elevator door slid open behind her. As she turned, Wyrdrune leapt toward her, shape-changing into his Modred aspect in the blink of an eye.

  “Look out!” Modred shouted, shoving her aside.

  The energy blast that came out of the elevator struck him squarely in the chest. It lifted him right off his feet and threw him back clear across the room.