He started to walk off camera.
“Mr. Mayor, Mr. Mayor!” a chorus of reporters called out.
“Now is not the time for questions,” the mayor said.
“Is this connected to this afternoon’s shooting of Ian Stewart and the sudden suspicious death of producer Sid Roth this morning?”
The mayor stopped in his tracks, said something in private to the police commissioner, and returned to the podium. “NYPD is in the middle of a criminal investigation. We can’t elaborate on what we’ve learned so far, and we can’t speculate about whether any of the incidents you cited are in any way connected to the brutal attack on Mr. Schuck. But the commissioner has assured me that the department is working around the clock to prevent any further violence and to bring about a swift conclusion to this tragedy. Right now, I think that instead of speculating, we all should pray for Brad Schuck to recover from this horrible ordeal. No more questions. Thank you and good night.”
This time, the mayor walked off and the entourage followed.
The station cut back to the anchorman, and Lexi muted the TV. “Shall we pray for Brad Schuck to recover from this horrible ordeal?” she said.
“I don’t pray when I’m naked,” Gabe said, rolling over on his back.
She straddled him, lowering herself gradually, and moaned as she felt him slide inside of her.
He thrust his pelvis upward, and she arched her back. The pace was slow at first, unhurried, but as they moved in perfect rhythm together, the passion built. She cried out his name, and he reached around and dug his fingers into her buttocks.
They were both seconds away from an explosive climax when the phone rang.
It jolted him to the core.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she said.
But he did stop.
The phone rang again.
It was after midnight. Nobody called them this late. The agency called when they had a job for him as an extra, but never after five or six in the evening.
The phone rang a third time, and he picked it up.
“Hello, who’s this?”
“This is a fan of yours,” the voice on the other end said. “I just watched the mayor’s press conference. Congratulations.”
“Congratulations on what?”
“Come on, Gabe. I know you’re behind all this.”
He sat up, the passion completely gone. Lexi flopped off of him and sat cross-legged on the bed trying to figure out what was happening.
“Behind all what?” he said.
“Cut the shit,” the caller said. “If Roth and Ian Stewart didn’t tip me off, the Molotov cocktail sure did.”
The Chameleon could feel his chest constricting and panic welling up in his throat.
This was not in the script.
BOOK TWO
MAJOR REWRITE
Chapter 30
THE CHAMELEON CLOSED his eyes and tried to home in on the voice on the other end of the phone.
“Who is this?” he said.
A raspy laugh. “An old war buddy.”
“This is a new number. None of my old crowd has it.”
“We got friends in common, Gabriel. Some of them still work at Silvercup. Your name was on the call sheet for the Ian Stewart movie today. I guess you saw that terrible tragedy unfold before your very eyes.” Another laugh, even raspier.
The neurons in The Chameleon’s brain were going off like a string of cheap Chinese firecrackers, and one of them zeroed in on the grating laugh. “Mickey?” The Chameleon said. “Is that you?”
“I’m happy to say it is, but you, on the other hand, don’t sound too overjoyed to hear from me.”
“Mick,” The Chameleon said. “It’s after midnight. My girlfriend and I were just—”
“Just what? Watching TV? Catching up on the news of the day?”
“We were asleep. What do you want?”
“Nothing we can talk about over the phone,” Mickey said.
“Last I heard you were on an extended vacation up in the Adirondacks. It’s six hours away, but if you tell me when visiting hours are, maybe I can take a run up there.”
“They gave me time off for being a model vacationer. I got back into town last week. Remember where my old loft was?”
“Yeah. Long Island City. Skillman Avenue. The scenic part.”
Another annoying laugh. “Scenic. I like that. Why don’t you come over and we can sit on the veranda, have coffee, and watch the sun rise over the freight yard.”
“Screw the sunrise, Mickey,” The Chameleon said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
He hung up and started getting dressed.
Lexi didn’t move from the bed. “What was that all about?” she asked.
“Production snag. It goes with the territory.”