Nightrise

finish, a black hood was placed over his head. It was like an executioner's hood. It completely covered his eyes, his nose, and his hair. But it left his mouth free.
    Jamie went into the audience. He stopped beside a blond woman in a tight-fitting dress. Her boyfriend was sitting next to her. He had his hand on her thigh.
    "Can you give me something from your handbag?" Jamie asked.
    'You want something from my handbag?" The woman giggled, then glanced at her boyfriend. He nodded, giving her permission, and she pulled out a small, silver object. Jamie took it and held it in the palm of his hand.
    "It's a key ring," Scott said.
    Jamie held the key ring up so that everyone could see. The audience applauded again. Several of them were talking now, whispering to each other, shaking their heads in disbelief.
    "Let's make this more difficult," Jamie called out. "I wonder if anyone here has a business card. How about you, sir?"
    He had stopped in front of two men sitting next to each other. All he had noticed so far was that they were both wearing brown linen suits, which in itself was strange because nobody in Reno ever dressed very smartly. On the other hand, he always tried to look for someone in a jacket when he reached this part of the act. From his experience, a man was more likely to have a wallet and, in the wallet, a business card. Women took longer, searching in their handbags. The act was supposed to last eighteen minutes. If he went over, he'd get slapped. Or worse.
    Jamie waited for the man to reach into his jacket pocket, and when that didn't happen, he looked down.
    That was when he knew he had made a mistake. At that moment he wished that he had gone to any row but this one. Jamie had been struggling to get through the act in the damp, sluggish heat of the theatre.
    The air-conditioning was failing as usual. But the very sight of this man was like cold water thrown into his face.
    It wasn't just that he was ugly. Jamie had met many unpleasant-looking people when he was doing his act — indeed he sometimes wondered if there wasn't something about the Reno Playhouse that actually attracted them. But this man was beyond ugly. There was something almost inhuman about him, about the way he was gazing at Jamie with eyes that were a very faint shade of blue, so faint as to be almost colorless. The man was quite bald but he hadn't lost his hair with age — nor had he decided to shave it off. The polished skull was unblemished, as if there had never been anything there to begin with. His face was the same. He had no eyebrows. There was no stubble on his cheeks or chin. His whole face looked like a mask stretched tight over a bone structure that kept it in a shape but allowed it to express no emotion at all. He had very small, very white teeth. They looked false.
    "He wants your card," the man next to him said. He spoke with a soft, rasping voice and a Southern accent.
    This man had hair, tangled and black, tied in a pony-tail — as well as a wispy little beard, sprouting in a triangle just under his lower lip. He was wearing plastic sunglasses that offered mirror reflections instead of his eyes. He smelled of cheap aftershave that was failing to hide the truth. He needed to change his clothes more. He needed to wash. It was impossible to say if he was younger or older than his companion. Both of them were ageless.
    Jamie realized that several seconds had gone by and nothing had happened. He swallowed. "A business card," he repeated.
    The silence stretched on. Jamie was about to move away. Surely he could find someone else who would cooperate? But then the bald man shrugged and reached into his jacket. "Sure," he said. "I've got a card."
    He took out a wallet, opened it, and removed a white card, balancing it for a moment between soiled, cracked fingernails, as if considering. Then he handed it to Jamie. Jamie held it in front of him. There was a name and, below it, a company.
    COLTON BANES NIGHTRISE CORPORATION
    Beneath that was an address and a telephone number. The letters were too small for Jamie to see in the half-light.
    The man was looking at him curiously, almost as if he were trying to see into him. With difficulty, Jamie turned back to the stage. He tried to speak but his mouth was too dry. He swallowed, then tried again.
    "Scott, can you tell me who this man works for?" he called out.

    Silence from the stage. What was happening now?
    Then Scott spoke. "Sure, Jamie. He works for the Nightrise