“The police.They found out everything about you.They weremeant to come here, not…not these bastards.Go.”
“No.I haven’t done… I’m not leaving her.But—” Laurie jumpedas Sasha’s grip suddenly closed on his arm.He turned, a pain likehot stone weighing in his chest.No point in looking away.Nowherein the world for him to avoid this admission, this consequence.“Laurie, how did they find us?”
“I told them.I gave you up.Oh, Sasha.Run!”
Lauriedidn’t think he would obey.Sasha was on his feet, Mama Lunafalling from his arms into the fireside dust.His gaze on Laurieshould have turned him into stone.The brown eyes were lightless.He held still for one second, then another.Then he fell back byone step, and William Fitzroy stirred and snappedupright.
“Oh, no, you little fucker.We want to talk to you.”
“Run!”The cry tore from Laurie’sthroat, so hard he tasted blood.He saw Sasha turn and, as if inslow motion, begin to retreat.He saw his father make a signal toone of his men.Saw both of them—his father and the burly crew-cutthug—begin the pursuit.All Laurie had was his position and hisweight.Jolting halfway upright, he tangled with the crew cut, wentdown with him in a flail of arms and legs that knocked the windfrom him but did not stop him scrambling back up to see his fathersetting off on Sasha’s heels.He saw Gunari appear between two ofthe vans, his baseball bat swinging.“Gunari!”he yelled.“Stophim!”
The authority in his own voice was a mystery to him.He hadlost everything.He was nothing.Some cold blue-blooded ghost roseup and spoke for him, and Gunari obeyed.Laurie had the dubioussatisfaction of watching Gunari run, pounce, and tackle Sir Williamto the ground, an earthshaking effort, the two big bodies crashingdown into the frost-shimmered grass.Thebigger they come, the harder they fall.
But hewas falling so hard himself, watching Sasha become a fleet-footedshape among the trees, then a shimmer, and then nothing.WatchingSasha run from him and flicker out to nothing in thedark.
Chapter Eleven
PaulJacobs sat on the desk of the Empire’s tiny office.It was teno’clock on Monday morning, and he had only come in to tidy up theprops and hand some costumes to the dry cleaner.To his surprise,East Hill’s hidden star had been sitting on the steps outside,oblivious to the rain, apparently waiting for him.He had takenLaurie in, given him a plastic cup of tea from Mrs.J’s officesupplies, and waited in his turn for him to begin to talk.Theoffice door was open, the cleaner cheerfully whistling as he pliedan industrial mop across the foyer’s tiles.
Not much of the star about Laurie this morning.The reviewfrom theStagewasproudly tacked to the board behind him, and Jacobs looked from thephoto—all that flash and glamour, a haughty Renaissance prince withpoor Laertes, who looked genuinely scared, at sword point—to theyoung man sitting opposite him.The bruises he had arrived withlast week were fading, but he looked more life worn than before.Older too.Oddly calm, as if something inside that had been keepinghim off balance had burned out.
Laurietook out his wallet.It was a very nice one, Jacobs idly noticed,far better than the usual accessories of those walking shadows whocame to strut and fret their hour upon his stage.He was welldressed too, which was something of a relief to Jacobs, who hadfeared last week he was going to have to ask him to do somethingabout that solitary T-shirt.Jacobs watched him count out a hundredpounds in notes.“What’s this for?”he asked.
Laurielooked up.“What you gave me on Friday,” he said.“That was anotheradvance, wasn’t it?Because you paid me in advance for lastweek.”
Jacobsshrugged.“I suppose so.Apart from the take on the house.Iwouldn’t worry.You earned it ten times over.”He glanced at thenewspaper cutting and smiled.“Or you will, at anyrate.”
“That’s just it.I can’t be here this coming week torehearseThe WhiteDevil.So I need to give you this back.”When Jacobs did not immediately reach out for the proffered cash,Laurie laid it on the desk.“I’m sorry.I didn’t mean to let youdown.You should cast Laertes for Flamineo.He’s prettygood.”
Jacobspulled a wry face.He looked from Laurie to the money on the desk.“I suppose,” he began thoughtfully, “that…technically speaking, andbased on experience, rehearsal may not be strictlynecessary.”
Hewatched.It was a silent challenge.Laurie picked it up in silence.For a moment, Jacobs wondered if whatever had happened to himbetween Friday night and now might have knocked his mercury, histransfiguring magic out of him.
Asusual, Jacobs failed to see the shift.As usual, Laurie didnothing—nothing more than fold his hands into his lap and raise hisface to look at him.“What is ’t you doubt?”he asked himconversationally.“Her coyness?That’s but the superficies of lustmost women have.”He shook his head, as in friendly wonder at thevagaries of the sex.Then he shifted a little in his seat,expression darkening.“Why should ladies blush to hear that named,which they do not fear to handle?Oh, they are politic; they knowour desire is increased by the difficulty of enjoying, whereassatiety is a blunt, weary, and drowsy passion.If the buttery-hatchat court stood continually open, there would be nothing sopassionate crowding, or hot suit after the beverage.”
“Laurie, stop.”Jacobs stretched out a hand to his shoulder.Hesaw Laurie take long seconds to come back to himself, and in theinterval watched the departure of a scheming, lust-sickenednobleman from the court of the Medicis.He had never heard anyone,let alone a boy in his teens, throw the right degree of sexualrevulsion into the metaphor of that vile buttery-hatch.And yet heknew that, regardless of his experiences in the outside world,Laurie’s nature remained sweet as day.“I was thinking of you forBracciano, but…clearly you can do villains too.Laurie, tell mesomething.Are you one of the Mayfair Fitzroys, whose little girlwas snatched last week?”
“Yes, sir.She’s my sister.”
“I did wonder.You didn’t know, did you?”
“Not until yesterday.I don’t have a TV.”
“No.I don’t suppose Flamineo would.”Jacobs folded his armsacross his chest.“I’m very sorry.That’s why you can’t come.Haveyou moved back home?”
Never spend another night under that roof as long as Ilive.Laurie, medieval fires dying out fromhis brain, understood with relief that it was true.“No.I need tobe there during the day to help search and be with my mother, butI’m living in East Hill.At the address I gave you.”
“All right.I see you picked yourself up a change of clothes.That’s good.Are they funding you otherwise?”
“No, sir.”Another truth.Another great pang of relief, findingits way through the dull cloud of fear in which Laurie had beenliving since the day before.Not anothernight.Not another penny.“I just grabbedsome of my things.”
“Then for God’s sake, take the money.Do you think you can makeit over here at all?”
“I…I’ll try.”
“Good lad.I’ll have Laertes understudy for you, be yourplaceholder for the others.Just turn up on the night.”
* **
