Ron Goulart - The Curse of the Obelisk

THE CURSE OF THE OBELISK 17
"You're asleep now, dear child," the magician informed her. "A very pleasant sleep, very
relaxing. You can hear me as you blissfully slumber and, what is more, you will be able to speak.
Isn't that right?"
"It is, yes." Her voice was faint and childlike.
"Not a thing can hurt you, nothing can harm you," the Great Lorenzo assured her. "No matter
what you have been told earlier. Is that clear?"
Her hands clenched into fists. "Yes . . ."
"Sometime today, after you arrived in Paris, you were hypnotized. Is that so?"
She shuddered. "I must not . . . ever say . . ."
"No, no, child. You simply misunderstood the original instructions. I am in control now. The
Great Lorenzo is in charge and what I tell you, and only that, is true."
The shuddering grew more severe. Jennie shut her eyes tight, hitting her fists together. "If I ever
speak . . . terrible things . . ."
"That was an error. A false bit of news sent to you. I am the only one you need listen to. The
Great Lorenzo. Listen to me now, Jennie, listen. Whatever was told to you by another hypnotist,
whatever warnings you were given, whatever orders . . . they are no more. Your mind is yours
again; it belongs to none other. And you will remember all that happened."
She shivered even more violently. "But I must obey . . . the . . ." Leaping to her feet, she held
her arms out and cried, "Harry, Harry! Help me."
He bounded to her, put his arms around her. "Easy now. It's all right."
She hugged him hard, beginning to sob against his chest. "It was like . . . like being attacked by
. . . Oh, Harry, just hold on to me. Please."
The Great Lorenzo flipped the silver dollar into the air. It vanished up near the cocoa ceiling. "I
suggest we adjourn for a bit of breakfast before delving into the question of the identity of the
scoundrel who did this."
The restaurant's main dining room was covered over with a high dome of steel and glass. There
was a flourishing potted palm next to their white-covered table and the Great Lorenzo, after
brushing the last of the croissant crumbs from his dimpled chin, plucked two lighted cigars from it
and passed one to Harry. "I am, dear friends, glad I made this side trip to Paris," he told them,
puffing contentedly on his cigar. "I only regret I must journey onward in but a few days in order to
reach the fabled Spielzeug Theater in Urbania's glittering capital in time for the initial performance
of my magical extravaganza."
"Damn good thing you did stop," Harry said. "Otherwise we wouldn't have known what had
happened to Jennie."
For the past several minutes Jennie had been writing in a stenographer's notebook with a stub of
a pencil. Sipping now and then at her coffee, she paid no attention to Harry, the Great Lorenzo or
the other patrons in the as yet uncrowded restaurant. "Well, I think I remember just about
everything now," she announced, dropping the pencil on the crisp white tablecloth. "It's pretty darn
strange . . . and frightening."
Harry asked, "Are you up to talking about it?"