Now a different crackling sound. Fire.
'That's got it, you sucker,' the custodian said from directly below Johnny, and then there was the sound of the firebox door being slammed shut again. Johnny pressed both hands over his mouth like a bandage, suddenly afflicted with suicidal amusement. He saw himself rising up from the floor of the gallery, as thin and white as any self-respecting ghost. He saw himself spreading his arms like wings and his fingers like talons and calling down in hollow tones: 'That's got you, you sucker.'
He held the laughter behind his hands. His head throbbed like a tomato full of hot, expanding blood. His vision jittered and blurred crazily. Suddenly he wanted very badly to move away from the impression of the man who had been cleaning his nose with the silver toothpick, but he didn't dare make a sound. Dear Jesus, what if he had to sneeze?
Suddenly, with no warning, a terrible wavering shriek filled the hall, drilling into Johnny's ears like thin silver nails, climbing, making his head vibrate. He opened his mouth to scream.-It cut off.
'Oh, you whore,' the custodian said conversationally.
Johnny looked through the diamond and saw the custodian standing behind the podium and fiddling with a microphone. The mike cord snaked down to a small portable amp. The custodian went down the few steps from the podium to the floor and pulled the amplifier farther from the mike, then fooled with the dials on top of it. He went back to the mike and turned it on again. There was another feedback whine, this one lower and then tapering away entirely. Johnny pressed his hands tight against his forehead and rubbed them back and forth.
The custodian tapped on the mike with his thumb, and the sound filled the big empty room. It sounded like a fist knocking on a coffin lid. Then his voice, still tuneless, but now amplified to the point of monstrosity, a giant's voice bludgeoning into Johnny's head: 'FROM THIS VAL-LEEE THEY SAY YOU ARE GOING...'
Stop it, Johnny wanted to scream. Oh, please stop it, I'm going crazy, can't you stop it?
The singing ended with a loud, amplified snap! and the custodian said in his own voice, 'That's got you, whore.'
He walked out of Johnny's line of sight again. There was a sound of tearing paper and the low popping sounds of twine being snapped. Then the custodian reappeared, whistling and holding a large stack of booklets. He began to place them at close intervals along the benches.
When he had finished that chore, the custodian buttoned his coat and left the hall. The door slammed hollowly shut behind him. Johnny looked at his watch. It was 7: 45. The town hall was warming up a little. He sat and waited. The headache was still very bad, but oddly enough. it was easier to bear than it had ever been before. All he had to do was tell himself that he wouldn't have to bear it for long.
4.
The doors slammed open again promptly at nine o'clock, startling him out of a catnap. His hands clamped tightly over the rifle and then relaxed. He put his eye to the diamond-shaped peephole. Four men this time. One of them was the custodian, the collar of his pea coat turned up against his neck. The other three were wearing topcoats with suits underneath. Johnny felt his heartbeat quicken. One of them was Sonny Elliman. His hair was cut short now and handsomely styled, but the brilliant green eyes had not changed.
'Everything set?' he asked.
'Check for yourself,' the custodian said.
'Don't be offended, Dad,' one of the others replied. They were moving to the front of the hall. One of them clicked the amplifier on and then clicked it off again, satisfied.
'People round these parts act like he was the bloody emperor,' the custodian grumbled.
'He is, be is,' the third man said - Johnny thought he also recognized this fellow from the Trimbull rally. 'Haven't you got wise to that yet, Pop?'
'Have you been upstairs?' Elliman asked the custodian, and Johnny went cold.
'Stairway door's locked,' the custodian answered. 'Same as always. I gave her a shake.'
Johnny silently gave thanks for the spring lock on the door.
'Ought to check it out,' Elliman said.
The custodian uttered an exasperated laugh. 'I don't know about you guys,' he said. 'Who are you expecting? The Phantom of the Opera?'
'Come on Sonny,' the fellow Johnny thought he recognized said. 'There's nobody up there, We just got time for a coffee if we shag ass down to that resrunt on the corner.'
'That's not coffee,' Sonny said. 'Fucking mud is all that is. Just run upstairs first and make sure no one's there, Moochie. We go by the book.'