Gaga's publicist got the word out next day that Simone's service would be held at the Belasco. The press and TV gave the announcement nice coverage and the turnout was expected to be standing room only (everybody knowing that Gaga would be emcee and would sing).

Hopefully Sickblade would be part of the turnout.

Hopefully Dempsey and his undercover SWATs would be on him when he made his move.

Hopefully I could keep Gaga clear of his knife and their SIG rifles.  

Not that things would get to that if everything went according to plan.

Except in my mind the plan was iffy.

Most of it depended on taking Sickblade before he ever got into the theater. Dempsey's crew would set up hidden intercepts at key spots, the main one being the tunnel that Gaga's visit with Belasco's ghost led us to (us not getting into the ghost part with Dempsey).

But how was it certain that Sickblade would know that the tunnel entrance was there in the first place? I mean, avatar as messenger? And if I was Sickblade, I'd have my antenna up for anything – that tunnel or otherwise – that had any smell of cops.

Which it turned out he didn't even bother with.

Because along with being a tunnel man, Sickblade was a roof guy. We found out later that's how he got into the Belasco without anybody knowing. Made his way onto the roof the night before the service and got himself into the apartment. Had to have felt right at home, having worked the theater as a stagehand, maybe even had an in with the ghost. Had himself where he wanted to be before Dempsey came in and posted his people.

"OK listen up," Dempsey said, him honchoing the final briefing before the event. "Lady Gaga is obviously who Sickblade wants. He's made that clear. She's putting herself out there at serious risk to draw him in. So we owe her our best performance, every asset we've got, to keep her safe and nail him."

He gave Gaga a nod of appreciation, the others around us doing the same. We were crammed into the theater's green room, Gaga and me and about twenty SWATs, half of them dressed anonymous in theater clothes, half in black combat gear, all of them armed.   

"The team that's covering the tunnel is already in place," Dempsey said. "The rest of you will go to your places in the audience, or stay hidden as per your layout memos. He'll be expecting security, whatever his program is, but we don't have to make ourselves obvious. Keep your ear buds in and your frequencies open."

Everyone started gathering their things to leave, but Dempsey wasn't finished.

"And remember," he said sharply.

Everyone looked at him.

"Commissioner Sherner and Chief Gleason have made it clear that Sickblade does not have to be taken alive."

The SWATs glanced at each other. Everyone got the message. Nobody said anything as they filed out.  

I walked out with Gaga, taking the stairs up to the stage, not sure I looked or felt as confident as she did.

"You think he'll show?" I said. "I mean there's a lot going on here to tip him."

"I think he already has."

I stopped and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Just a feeling," she said. "But I've had it before."

She didn't have to remind me.

I looked around the empty theater, at the seats that would be filled tonight. I could see two sniper SWATs getting into their places – behind the drapes up in the boxes above both sides of the stage. A couple more were offstage in the wings. They weren't looking for Sickblade to do any sniping himself, him more likely to use the blade that gave him his name. What better final act, if that's where his head was, than to rush out and slash her throat in front of a packed house? 

But show biz has a history of people changing styles. Maybe he's been working on his gun skills. 

I said to Gaga, "You want to tell Dempsey? I mean what you just said?"

"What more is he going to do?" 

"Sweep the place."

"The whole idea is to draw Sickblade in, not scare him off."

Like I've said, risk junkie.

And it's not like I didn't want to take him out myself, for what he did to Szu, even if he could maybe tell me definitely who killed Tanya.

"You going to do your sound check?" I said, watching two guys wheel a piano onto the stage.

She nodded and pointed to the orchestra seats. "Why don't you sit in the middle there and let me know if I hit any clunkers."

Yeah, right, like she hit them all the time. 

I went down and took a seat where she'd pointed. The guys who'd wheeled out the piano were wheeling out a harp now. One of them went back and brought out a chair, and a lady with long black hair came out and sat down and started plucking the harp strings, fine tuning it I guess. Two men in sports jackets came out and sat in chairs on either side of her, one with a violin, the other one a cello he started tuning. Finally Gaga's keyboard guy came out, gave her a kiss on the cheek and sat down at the piano.

The Belasco was a small theater and Gaga wasn't sure if her or the instruments needed to be miked or not. Which was part of the reason for the sound check, along with being a rehearsal.

Also it was a light check. Gaga shaded her eyes and called up to the second balcony where the lighting board was. "You want to try the follow spot, Freddy?"

The stage lights dimmed and the spotlight came on, illuminating Gaga.

"What do you think?" she said.

 "I think it'll be too glitzy," Freddy called back. 

"I think you're right. Kill it."

Freddy doused the spot and brought the stage lights back up. Gaga went over and huddled with her ensemble, the string guys still plucking and tuning.

A voice spoke up behind me.

"How's it going?"

I spun around and saw Dempsey, who'd taken a seat in the next row back.

"OK," I said.

"Let us know if you see anything." Like he was talking to some bystander. Or maybe I was too sensitive, me having zero liking for the guy.

"Right," I said, about to mention Gaga picking up Sickblade vibes. 

But the instruments tuning up got louder, cutting me off, the musicians about ready for Gaga. I turned front to watch the performance, would tell him after.

"Can you give me an A?" Gaga said to the violin guy.

He drew the note out with his bow and her voice picked it up, singing the A clear as could be, filling the theater.

Then everything went quiet.

Gaga waited a beat, and then nodded to her keyboard guy. He played a few soft chords, and then the other instruments joined in, them playing the introduction for what Gaga would sing as the centerpiece of Simone's service. She stepped to the front of the stage and, with just the right emotion, started singing the hymn that almost everyone in the world has heard.  

Ave Maria

Maiden mild

Oh listen to a maiden's prayer

For thou can hear them in the wild

Tis thou tis thou can save amid despair

We slumber safely till the morrow

Though we by men outcast reviled

Oh Maiden see a maiden's sorrow

Oh Mother hear a supplicant child

Ave Maria.

 The keyboard guy took a solo, staying with the sacred mood of the piece, and after a gentle run up the keys, looked over at Gaga who finished the hymn.

The murky cavern's air so heavy

Shall breath of balm if thou hast smiled

Oh Maiden hear a maiden pleading

Oh Mother hear a supplicant child

Ave Maria

Ave Maria 

Nobody clapped, the piece being religious, but I'm sure everyone who heard it, the SWAT guys where they were hiding, the stage hands who'd come out to watch, wouldn't forget it.

I turned around to see what Dempsey thought, and to tell him about Gaga's Sickblade vibes, but he was gone.

Onstage Gaga had some comments for the ensemble, a couple technical things, and then she asked if she could listen to what they were going to play when people were coming into the theater. I'm not too up on classical music, but when they started playing I recognized the piece as something by Bach. 

I stayed in my seat enjoying it, and also, after what Gaga said about Sickblade, keeping an eye on her and the vicinity. When the piece was finished, Gaga thanked the musicians and left them to play some more on their own.

She looked out to where I was sitting and pointed backstage, meaning she was going to her dressing room. I started to get up to join her when I felt my phone buzz. Took it out and saw it was Curly Sasso.

"Hey, what's up?"

"That's nice noise Gaga's getting  for the event."

"Yeah, we're expecting a crowd."

"You think you can squeeze me in? I'd like to come."

I smiled at squeeze, him at three-hundred pounds.

"Sure," I said. "Just you?"

"I thought I'd ask Ms. McG from the house."

Well, who'd have guessed. "That'd be great," I said.

"And Doc Granith thought he might like to come."

"Fine, bring him along." Me hoping Doc had sense enough not to bring Agnes Marselli, considering the situation with Dempsey and her and the fetus. Curly had best not get too near him either.

We said goodbye and I pocketed my phone and headed backstage.

When I got to Gaga's dressing room the door was closed. I gave it a gentle rap. "You decent?"

No answer.

I knocked again. "You there?"

Still no answer.

I tried the door. It opened only about an inch. Something was blocking it from inside. I put my eye to the sliver of an opening and could see there was someone laid out on the floor. I rammed my shoulder into the door, kept ramming until the opening was wide enough for me to squeeze through.

I looked at the floor.

Dempsey.

Unconscious.

A knife sticking out of his chest.

I looked around for Gaga.

Gone. 

(To be continued...)