"Displeased?" Princippi scoffed. "He's screaming for your blood, along with Calhoun's for putting him
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in the middle of this Barry Duke thing. And then— get this—he asks me to see if you'll come over and join the party."
Princippi nodded. "A pragmatic man," he said.
At that moment a stagehand stuck his head around the door. "Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Kaspar," he said. "But there's a call for you on line three." He indicated the simple black phone on the end table near Kaspar's elbow, then slipped away.
"I've got to make a few calls myself," Princippi said, excusing himself. "I've set up an informal breakfast meeting with some friendly press for tomorrow."
He left Kaspar alone in the green room.
Kaspar hefted the bulky receiver and depressed the flashing button.
"Yes?"
Esther Clear-Seer's shrill voice practically leapt through the phone like an escaped wildcat. "Kaspar, what the hell is going on?" she demanded.
"It would be helpful if you could be more specific," he said, examining his fingernails. He noticed a chip on his right index finger and wondered if there was someplace nearby where he could get a good manicure this late at night.
"How specific do you want me to be over an open line?" she asked through tightly clenched teeth.
Kaspar looked toward the open green-room door and hoped no one was eavesdropping around the corner. "Is there a problem?" he asked calmly.
"Only that I was stupid enough to get hooked up with you," she said sarcastically.
He let the remark pass. "Did you procure the latest vessel, as instructed?"
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"I followed your directions, Kaspar," Esther said tartly. "Your new 'vessel,'" she said, her tone dripping malice, "is going completely psycho."
His voice remained calm, but he felt his stomach clench like a hollow fist.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Psycho. Bonkers. Stark raving bananas, Kaspar," Esther hissed. "I put the vessel up on the stool and she immediately started jerking around like she was on angel dust or something."
Kaspar relaxed. "That is not unusual for a new Py-thia," he said.
"Yeah, well is it unusual for a new Pythia to be screaming about Sinanju being on the way?"
Kaspar felt his already cold blood turn to ice. "Sinanju? Now?"
"She's keeps yelling about the first hour."
Kaspar knew that that meant sometime between midnight and 1:00 a.m., mountain time. With the time difference, if he got a flight out of Washington National within the next hour, he could make it back. But it would be close.
"Brief the acolytes," Kaspar instructed briskly. "Make it clear to them that this is not a drill situation. I will return as quickly as possible, but if I do not arrive in time, you must be ready."
"Oh, I'll be ready," said Esther. "I owe that old chink a shot in the nose."
"Just be prepared."
"What about your new vessel?" Esther asked. "She's going to kill herself the way she's thrashing around up there."
"That would be problematic," Kaspar said.
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"Yeah," Esther said indifferently. "Why?"
"Just take special care of this one," Kaspar advised.
"All right already," Esther said. "Just hurry back here. I don't know why this new one is so special," she added, severing the connection.
Kaspar listened to the humming dial tone momentarily. In spite of the grave prospect of another Sinanju visit, he allowed himself a tight smile. "You will find out soon enough," he said, quietly hanging up the phone.
Kaspar had been very specific about when and where Esther Clear-Seer would find his latest vessel: 9:30 p.m., Wednesday. The precise time he would be on the "Barry Duke Live" talk show.
Esther thought it was strange that this late in the game Kaspar would help out with the procurement of a new Pythia, and she found it odder still that he would send her back into Thermopolis after having scolded her for collecting the first several virgins from the nearby town. But at this point she was grateful for anything that made this aspect of the job a little easier. Some of these little bitches put up one heck of a struggle.
The residence Kaspar had indicated was on Sagebrush Street in the expensive side of town. Esther first drove slowly past the girl's house, checking for cars or movement on the grounds or in any of the windows. As Kaspar had promised, the house was as lifeless as a crypt.
There was only one small light on inside the house itself—in a side rear window. A kitchen night-light left on by the girl's parents, Esther guessed. The only other
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illumination wasn't even inside the house itself, but rather was arranged carefully around the large Colonial structure. Spotlights were trained on the exterior of the house, brightening the whitewashed clapboard walls like new paint.
There were several halogen bulbs, set into the front lawn, which shone on the front of the house as dazzlingly white as a thousand angels of the Second Coming. One of these was trained on the raised black numbers above the front door, which announced the street address to all passersby. A line of conical lights, low to the ground and spaced at perfectly measured intervals, illuminated the paths up to the front and side doors. Twin spotlights were aimed carefully at the empty driveway.
The house was expensive looking—especially by Thermopolis's middle-class standards—but seemed worth so much attention. Esther wondered why anyone would feel compelled to light up their home brighter than the Washington Monument at midnight.
She shut her own headlights off and coasted quietly down to Sagebrush Street's dead end.
True to Kaspar's word, there was a dirt access road that connected Sagebrush Street to Cheyenne Drive and was blocked by a heavy concrete barrier at this time of year. Esther backed her car up to the barrier and crept on foot back along the woodsy path to the street.
Although Kaspar had repeatedly assured her that the Pythia was not wrong about the ease with which this vessel would be procured, Esther remained nervous as she snuck through the strip of woods that ran along the side of the house.
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She held her breath as she listened for approaching cars. When she heard none, she screwed up her courage and darted across the brightly lit driveway, ducking into the shadows behind the main house.
She threw herself roughly against the rear wall beside the broad back deck and listened. Somewhere far away a dog howled into the moonless night.