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.Nathan, you have to find him ajob.It would help him a lot."I'll try.I'll talk to you tomorrow," Nathan said.He hung up and thephone rang again while his hand was still on the receiver.What, Mom?" he asked.Changed your mind, Mister Eames?" the bland voice inquired.What kind of monster are you?" Nathan asked numbly.We," the voice corrected.You agreed to join us a year ago, remember?I told you then that your membership would be for life."I thought it was a joke." Nathan sobbed.It wasn't.Neither was the incident at your parents" home."Don't touch them!"That's up to you."You didn't say anything about killing people."Don't think of them as people, Mister Eames.It won't be personal.Thetarget you've been given is a stranger to you."Target?" Nathan shouted, his voice breaking.Are you all killers, orwhat?"There was no response.Are you?" he asked at last, needing to know.Are you all killers?"We," the voice corrected again.We all pay dues.Yes." The voice wassilent for a moment.Nathan picked up his drink.His tears dropped intothe scotch.Now for the next ten minutes there will not be a patrol car within sixteenblocks of your parents" apartment," the calm voice went on.I stronglyurge you to leave for Mister Westerman's in no more than nine minutes.Tryvery hard."Then the line went dead.Nathan sat clutching his abdomen, alternately sobbing and cursing.Finally, with a small cry of despair, he stumbled out the door.A set of keyswas in his mailbox, just as the voice had told him.Nathan put them in hispocket and walked out onto the street, feeling the air sting his wet cheeks.there was an air of unreality about the city as he rode the subway downtown.The colors around him were too bright, the odors too sharp.Pleaselet this not be real," he whispered over and over in a kind of chant.But it was real.George Westerman lived in an old but pleasant-lookingbrick building in the West Village.One of the keys fit the outer lockperfectly.Westerman's mailbox had a business card taped to it.It read: GEORGE C.WESTERMANHEALER/READERTAROT CARDSASTROLOGYCHANNELINGNathan hesitated at the bottom of the stairway for several minutes.Howcould he even consider killing a perfect stranger this way?But how could he not consider it? His parents" lives were at stake.Andmaybe his own future.It won't be personal.The target is a stranger to you.The target.It made things easier to think of him.it.as the target."The target was an invalid.And probably a New Age weirdo.No big loss, right? he told himself.Nathan walked upstairs to 3B and turned the key.The target was asleep.Nathan sneaked into the darkened room on tiptoe,sweating so hard he was sure he was leaving puddles behind with everystep.Every few seconds, he was seized with waves of panic.What was hedoing here?I'm paying my dues.Yes, that was it.Just paying dues.Suddenly a light went on.Nathan gasped.Who are you?" the figure on the bed asked groggily.Nathan wished the man had not spoken.It was now harder to think ofhim as the target."Westerman leaned over toward his nightstand, which was covered withpharmaceutical vials.For a moment, Nathan contemplated running beforethe man could grab a gun and blow his head off.What Westerman picked up, though, was a rubber face mask attachedby a tube to a green tank with OXYGEN stenciled on it.He fiddled withsomething on the mask, then held it to his face and breathed while the tankhissed.You gave me a start," he said, smiling weakly as he set the mask down.Westerman was a pathetic sight.His hair stood out like straw from askull-like head.He wore striped pajamas far too big for his skeletal body.His face was blotchy and his hands were covered with lesions.Has someonesent you?" he asked Nathan.Nathan shook his head, then nodded.Sent me.Yes."Do you want a reading?"What?"The cards.Do you want me to read the cards for you?"Don't you want to know how I got in?"The man shrugged.Most of my friends have keys.I really don't mindvisitors, anyway, at whatever hour.Go ahead.Bring the cards.They're overthere."Woodenly, Nathan went to a dusty end table where a deck of oversized, dirty-looking cards was lying face down.He brought the cards to the manin the bed.The target.Do you know your sign?" Westerman asked as he shuffled and laid outthe cards on the coverlet.No."When's your birthday?"I don't know."Westerman said patiently, That's all right.Well, here's somethinginteresting.The Hanged Man.It's not a bad card.It signifies uncertainty,indecision.There are a lot of major cards here.This is an important time inyourlife.A turning point."It is," Nathan said.I've come to kill you."Westerman looked up, his forehead creased.What was that?"I said I've come to kill you."Westerman dropped the cards and stared at Nathan for a moment, thenbowed his head.I thought I might be on the list."What list?"You don't know? Are you doing this just for money?"Tell me about the list," Nathan said.Westerman sighed.All right.A lot of people who pretend to be psychicsare frauds.But there are some.a few.who are real.Who have realpower.And each of us like that knows who the others are.I'm one of them.And for the last few years, somebody's been killing us off." He folded hisarms across his chest.You, I suppose."Aren't you afraid?"Look, I have more diseases that most people my age have teeth.Six ofthem are terminal.But I confound the doctors by hanging around.Theypoke around, they take blood samples, and then they shake their headsand tell me I should be dead, but I just don't seem able to die.One doctorthinks it's my blood." Westerman shrugged.Who knows? But I've beensupposed to die for so long.no, I'm not afraid of it.Not even this way.I would like to know why I'm being murdered, though
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