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Peaceable Kingdom: The Angels’ Bower, Fortunato’s suite
Fortunato looked at the boy, frowning. John Fortune nodded almost imperceptibly as he went by him. Fortunato opened his mouth as if to speak, but held his peace.
“Let’s go,” John Fortune said.
Nighthawk looked at him. “You’re not glowing,” he said.
John Fortune shrugged. “I stopped doing that awhile ago.”
Nighthawk removed the glove from his left hand, and put his fingers out, almost on John Fortune’s face. Fortunato darted into the old man’s mind. He almost rebounded in surprise at what he saw there. Ancient power, tempered by wisdom and grace. He realized that Nighthawk meant them no harm.
Nighthawk’s hand dropped down and he smiled. “Nice try.”
“What?” John Fortune asked, bewildered.
“It’s no good, Jerry,” Fortunato said. “He knows.”
“What?” John Fortune said.
“That you’re the bodyguard,” Nighthawk said.
Jerry Strauss slumped. “It was worth a shot,” he said.
Nighthawk nodded. “I suppose.” He put his glove back on his left hand. “Now where’s the boy?”
“He’s in the bathroom,” Fortunato said with sudden hope that somehow Nighthawk, with all his strange powers, might be able to help his son.
Nighthawk looked at his troop. “Wait here,” he said. He paused, looking at Magda. “Take her gun away,” he told Usher. “I don’t want her to come to pissed and armed with an automatic shotgun.”
Usher nodded. “You’ll be all right?”
Nighthawk looked at Fortunato. Fortunato nodded.
“For now,” Nighthawk said.
They headed for the bedroom, the disguised Jerry Strauss following. Fortunato stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Thank you for trying to save my son.”
“It didn’t work,” Jerry said.
“This wasn’t the only time you tried. And succeeded.”
“It’s my job,” Jerry said. “But it was always a pleasure, as well.”
“This way,” Fortunato told Nighthawk, leading the way to the bathroom. The hippie was still with his son. He looked worriedly at Fortunato and the others.
“He’s getting hotter, man. I tried to help him, but there’s nothing I can do.”
Fortunato nodded. Nighthawk stared at John Fortune as he stood naked in the shower stall. His halo was an angry aura, flickering like rays from a tiny sun.
“John, are you okay?” Fortunato asked.
The boy shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m hotter. Now I can’t touch anything cloth without burning it.”
Fortunato swallowed hard.
“We need the Trump,” Jerry said. “But there’s no damn time.”
Nighthawk looked hard at the boy. John Fortune looked back at him. He seemed more puzzled than frightened, but Fortunato knew that he was putting the best face he could on his fear. He suddenly was very proud of his son. Very proud, and very frightened for him.
Nighthawk suddenly seemed to come to a decision. “Yes, there is,” he said.