A Calculated Magic

30

Cassandra led the way descending the steps. Though the nymphs had assured them that the three security guards were occupied with their dinner, the Amazon didn’t believe in taking unnecessary chances. “A true professional assumes nothing,” she declared. “One man with heartburn, searching the locker room for antacid pills, could ruin our entire venture. With me in front, he’ll never have a chance to alert the others.”

Jack wasn’t about to object. He fought to the best of his ability when necessary, but he was not in Cassandra’s class. As the Logical Magician, he was content to play his role as the master planner. To him, being a hero meant using his brains. Conan the Conqueror had his place in the universe, but battling fiends in the neon jungle of Las Vegas was not it.

It was nearly a hundred steps to the bottom of the stairwell. Jack, walking a few steps behind the Amazon, kept his gaze fixed to Cassandra’s neck. Early on, she had made it quite clear that if he looked anywhere else, he would be very, very sorry. Though temptation gnawed at him, Jack kept it at bay by concentrating on the vision of an angry Amazon handing him his eyeballs on a platter. It worked wonderfully well as a deterrent.

The locker room was empty. Lining the walls were nearly fifty brightly lighted dressing tables, like those used in nightclubs. Behind them were a series of a hundred metal lockers. One door led off to the powder room and shower. A second consisted of a steel frame and two pieces of frosted glass. Next to the door, engraved in the brick wall, were etched the words, Entrance to Paradise. Best Behavior, Please. The Customer Is Always Right. Especially Here.

“Evidently, not everyone agrees with the sentiments,” whispered Cassandra, pointing to a line of graffiti scratched directly below the company motto. “The difference between heaven and bell is merely a matter of perspective.”

“Beyond this portal,” whispered Jack, “is the guard post. Once you’ve taken care of them, we’re free to enter Paradise and find Megan. Can you handle it?”

Cassandra grinned. “Three humans against one Amazon? Those aren’t odds, they’re a sure thing. Give me two minutes. Since I’m not carrying any weapons, I want to be positive that none of them are—”

Without warning, the door to the inner chamber opened, cutting off Cassandra in midsentence. A big, husky figure, nearly seven feet tall and dressed in a black-and-gold uniform, stared at Cassandra in surprise, “What are you doing here?” he growled, in a deep bass voice. “You’re twenty minutes late.”

Then the giant’s features knotted in bewilderment. “Wait a minute. Who the hell are you? We don’t got no tall, dark houris working here,” The guard’s eyes widened in astonishment. “And who the hell is that guy? No humans are allowed in the locker area for any reason. That’s against the rules.”

“Rules are made to be broken, big boy,” said Cassandra, and grabbed the guard by the collar of his shirt. In one smooth, continuous motion, she jerked him forward and dropped her body to the floor. Her feet lanced up, caught the shocked sentry in the chest. Shrieking in disbelief, he flew over Cassandra’s head and crashed into the metal lockers behind them.

“Take care of him,” she said over her shoulder as she darted into the next room. “I’ve got to stop the other two before they set off the alarm.”

Jack whirled. Amazingly, the guard was climbing to his feet, shaking his head more in surprise than in pain. Obviously, Hasan al-Sabbah stationed his most dependable servants at the entrance to Paradise. Grimly, Jack noted the giant had no aura. He was supernatural in origin.

“What the heck is he?” he muttered to himself, forgetting the two invisible ravens sitting on his shoulders.

“A ghul,” said Mongo, calmly. “We’ve encountered several of their kind during our wanderings. Powerful brutes, they eat human flesh. They have incredibly alert senses that enable them to hunt unwary travelers in the desert.”

“Spare me the lecture,” said Jack, backing up to the wall. The ghul was looking straight at him, its eyes the color of glowing coals. The monster grinned in anticipation, displaying a mouthful of yellow fangs. A dribble of saliva ran down its jaw as it took a giant step forward.

“You birds remember any special weakness I can use against this monster?” Jack asked queasily.

“Sorry,” said Mongo, “not a thing. They’re tough, really tough.”

“You want us to slow him down a mite?” asked Hugo. “We could try the old double-beak-in-the-ears routine.”

“Do it,” said Jack, sliding along the wall as the ghul advanced another step. “Hurry.”

“Men can’t come in the locker room,” said the ghul, spreading open his huge arms. “The boss would be angry with us if he learned you was here. But he’s never gonna ever find out. ’Cause there won’t be any evidence left.”

There was no mistaking what the ghul meant. Anxiously, Jack circled a nearby dressing booth. His gaze swept the counter, hunting for a weapon. Unfortunately, there wasn’t even a nail file present. The only things on the table were a half dozen atomizers filled with perfume and a powder puff.

Desperately, Jack pushed a chair into the ghul’s path. Laughing, the giant kicked it aside. “You can’t get away from me,” the monster declared. “I can smell you a mile away.”

“I bet you can,” replied Jack, inspiration striking. As did the two ravens.

The ghul shrieked and slammed his hands to his ears. “That hurt!” he bellowed. Swinging his head to and fro, he hunted wildly for his invisible assailants. “That hurt my ears bad.”

“See if you like this any better,” said Jack, pushing an atomizer as close to the giant’s nose as he dared and spraying. Suddenly, the locker room smelled like roses. Bushels and bushels of roses. It was an extremely potent perfume.

The ghul sneezed explosively. Once, then again, and again. Jack grabbed another atomizer. “Didn’t care for that fragrance?” he asked mockingly, squeezing the trigger. A overwhelming mix of orange blossoms and hyacinths filled the air. He grabbed a third, then a fourth, and a fifth. “How about this? Or this? Or this?”

Eyes tearing, hands waving about frantically, the ghul stumbled into the metal lockers. Its head rocked back and forth with one gigantic sneeze after another. Jack continued to empty atomizer after atomizer at the fiend. Its painful howls mixed with sneezes as it sank to the floor, trying to escape the overwhelming mixture of perfume.

“There’s a hot plate on the third table that should perform wonders,” said Mongo in Jack’s ear, “Try knocking him on the head a few times with it.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. It required eight smashes to the ghul’s skull before the creature finally collapsed unconscious. Panting, Jack dropped the metal appliance to the floor. “Thank God,” he declared. “My arms were tiring out.”

“Smart idea, realizing the ghul’s overdeveloped sense of smell would make him vulnerable to perfume,” said Mongo. “That was quick thinking.”

“Thanks,” said Jack. “Anybody check on Cassandra?”

“Did I hear my name mentioned?” asked the Amazon from the doorway. She caught a glimpse of the motionless ghul spread-eagled on the floor. “Sorry I left that one for you, but the other two proved to be more difficult than I expected. Ghuls are rough customers. Looks like you managed fine on your own. I told you that training in unarmed combat would pay off.”

The Amazon’s nose wrinkled, noticing for the first time the overwhelming smell of perfume. “What happened? Did he overturn one of the tables when he fell?”

“Not exactly,” said Jack. “I’ll explain some other time,” He shook his head, dismayed with his carelessness. “Remind me next time I make a deal with nymphs to press them a little harder for pertinent details. Alis never mentioned ghuls in her description of the guard post. She probably didn’t think it mattered.”

Bending over, he rolled the motionless giant onto its stomach. “This goon should be out for hours, but let’s tie him up to be on the safe side,” He glanced at his watch. “Then off to rescue Megan. We’re running out of time.”