The Hanging Hill

23

Reginald Grimes rose from his chair.

“So you people, you brothers of Hannibal, you fancy yourself theatrical producers?”

“Only when it suits our purposes, Exalted One,” Hakeem replied humbly.

“Is that so?” Grimes was furious. He balled up his good hand into a fist and banged it hard against his desk. “How dare you change my cast without consulting me first!”

Hakeem bowed slightly. “It was for the best.”

“Oh, really? For the best? Explain that to me, Mr. Hakeem.”

“In good time, High Priest. In good time.”

“Bah! Now!”

Hakeem raised his eyes. Smiled. “First, you must prove yourself worthy of our trust.”

Grimes scoffed at that. “What? You dare audition me?”

“Yes,” said Hakeem thoughtfully. “We do.”

“I am Reginald Grimes!”

“We know that.”

“I audition for no one.”

“Really? Not even when the role we offer will give you wealth and power beyond your wildest imaginings?”

That gave Grimes pause.

“How much wealth and power?”

“More than any mortal man has ever known.”

Oh. He liked the sound of that. He liked it a lot.

“Very well, gentlemen. For the time being, I accept your cast change. I will work with this new boy. What’s his name?”

“Stone. Derek Stone.”

“He’s right for the part?”

“He and Meghan are both perfect.”

Grimes returned to his chair. Leaned back. “I am curious about one thing. Why did your so-called brotherhood choose to produce Curiosity Cat? Why not Bats in Her Belfry?”

“Curiosity Cat provides that which we require. The two children. This sacred power spot. The full August moon. Even now the portal begins to open.”

Grimes grimaced and reopened the ancient text sitting atop his desk. He frantically flipped through the pages—forward, then backward—hoping to find some explanation, maybe something he had missed the first time through. Two children? August moon? Sacred power spots?

“The answers you seek are not revealed in that text,” said Hakeem. “To find them, we must open the secret compartment, to which I alone have the key—the key personally handed to me by your glorious grandfather.”

“So let’s go open it!”

“No. First you must finish reading all that is written in The Book of Ba’al and my men must install the scenic piece that arrived only this morning.”

“You’re changing my scenery, too?”

“This prop will not appear onstage. However, I am happy to report, it was delivered in most excellent condition, having traveled across the sea from Tunisia.”

“Tunisia?” said Grimes. “You people imported scenery we’re not even going to use—all the way from Tunisia?”

“Yes,” said Hakeem.

“You’re insane!”

“Actually, we prefer the term ‘devout.’”