Jokers Wild

"I don't care a fig about stolen books," Hiram said. "I want something done about Bludgeon."

"Maybe the same guy owns them both," Jay said. He shrugged. "Or maybe not. Let's find out." He ambled back over by the building and began poking around in the shrubbery.

Hiram crossed his arms and scowled. "What are you doing?"

Popinjay looked back. "I'm going to hide in these bushes. I'm real good at hiding in bushes. Its the first thing they teach you in detective school."

"How are you going to find out anything that way?"

"I'm not," Ackroyd said. He shaped his right hand into a gun and pointed a loaded finger. "You are," he finished. Hiram never heard the pop.

Fortunato's black tie and long coat were a little out of place in the Jokertown station house. It was like a human garbage dump. The dominant smell was a blend of cheap wine and vomit and stale sweat. The main hall was standing room only, with a special section for hookers. The sight of their streaked makeup and stained, gaudy clothes was more than Fortunato could stand.

It took him ten minutes to find Black's office. The door was open and Black was on the phone. Black was good looking in a five-o'clock-shadow, rolled-sleeve, cheap-haircut sort of way. Fortunato waited in the hall until Black hung up. Then he stepped in and closed the door.

"The name didn't mean much," Fortunato said. "But I recognize you now. It was seven years ago. I spent the night in a cell here while a woman I cared a lot about got her brain fried. You had a Sergeant Matthias and a guy named Roman interrogate me. They decided they weren't interested and turned me loose. You probably don't remember."

"Remember? I've never seen you before, or this bimbo you're talking about." Black was scared and not hiding it well. Fortunato liked that.

"You're going to tell me everything you know. I'm not going to fuck around, because I'm in a hurry. So you're just going to tell me, right now."

It was easy. Black wasn't an ace, just an ordinary guy. Fortunato was weak, but would never be ordinary again. Black leaned back in his swivel chair, tense but unresisting.

"What do you want to know?" Black said tonelessly. "The Astronomer. He's escaping tonight. He's got a ship, some kind of spaceship. I need to know where it is."

"Spaceship? Like aliens from space? Like Dr. Tachyon and that kind of shit? You must be crazy."

Fortunato gave him another little jolt of power. He was starting to feel dizzy. "He must have been pla

Black looked puzzled. "Yeah, he was… but he decided to keep me here, keep me alive for 'contingencies.'"

"Like pulling the guards off Kafka?"

"Yeah. Like that."

"And where is it he's going?"

"It's fu

"Fu

Fortunato turned to go.

"You're just… going to leave me here?"

"You're no use to me."

"But… aren't you afraid I'd try to get back at you?"

"Yeah," Fortunato said. "I suppose you're right." With the last of his strength he reached into Black's chest and stopped his heart. Black made a noise like a cough and slumped sideways in his chair.

"Her name was Eileen," Fortunato said, and walked away.

Hiram's right foot was soaked up to the ankle; he'd appeared half-standing in the toilet, and it was sheer good fortune that an ongoing phone conversation had covered up the splash he made when extricating himself. As it was, he got nervous every time he took a step, fearful that the squishing sound would give him away. So he tried not to move much. He crouched in the bedroom, near the door to the spacious living room. It was open, as was the door to the adjacent room. He couldn't see a thing but the empty living room, but he could hear everything, and that was what mattered. He'd been there twenty-odd minutes now, and he'd heard more than enough.

Ring. "Latham? This is Hobart. Subway's secure. The Egrets are down on the platforms, no way anybody gets on any trains without us knowing. I've got men hanging around every turnstile. You sure she's heading this way'?"

"Our friend from justice seem to think so. I spoke to Billy Ray a few minutes ago, he says that she's heading up Broadway and he's not far behind her. Wyrm has been informed, and he confirms. He's on his way."

St. John Latham of Latham, Strauss, obviously gave his clients a good deal more than legal representation.

Ring. "Cholly, man. We're at the Port Authority. I'm in a phone booth, we got guys at all the doors. Lots of pimps and ho's, man, but no sign of a white chick in a bikini."

"Keep watching."

The ringing of the phone was constant, as was the soft sound of Latham's practiced fingers on the IBM keypad. Hiram edged closer to the door.

He felt sorry for the prey, whoever it was. Latham and his people were closing a net around the whole Times Square area. Each phone call pulled the weave a little tighter, and the phone kept ringing.

Ring. "Sinjin? This is Fadeout."

"Where are you?"

"In front of Nathan's. No sign of her. It's not quite as bad as New Year's Eve, but it's not far off either."

"You visible?"

"For the moment. Otherwise I'd have nat assholes bumping into me every other second. Besides, I may need the energy if she shows."

"She'll show. Wyrm is certain of it."

"Where the hell is he?"

"In his limo, fighting traffic. Where are the rest of our people?"

"Egrets and Werewolves all over the place. Our jokers are all wearing Dr. Tachyon masks, so we know who they are. The Whisperer's up by the Cohan statue, Bludgeon is hanging around outside the Wet Pussycat, Chickenhawk's perched on top of the tower. He's supposed to be watching, but he's probably eating a goddamned pigeon. We've got a few guys in cabs too, in case she tries to hail a taxi, maybe she'll get one of ours."

Hiram tensed at the mention of Bludgeon's name. When the next call rang through, and he heard a familiar razor-cruel voice come out of the speakerphone, he edged forward until he was in the doorjamb. "Loophole, you fucker," the voice said. "It's me."

"Yes," Latham replied in polite, icy tones.

"I just spotted the gash. I'm watching her tight little butt right now. You ought to see her, nothing on but a fuckin' bikini, her titties just hangin' out there. Should I kill her?"

"No," Lathan said crisply. "Follow her."

"Shit, I could twist her fuckin' head off before she knew I was there." He laughed. "Fuckin' shame to waste the rest of her, though."

"She is not to be killed, not until we have the book. Obviously she's not carrying it. Keep her in sight, but don't touch her. Wyrm is on his way."

"Fuck," Bludgeon said. "Can I have a little fun with her, after we get the shit back?"

"Follow her, Seivers," Loophole said. He hung up. The penthouse was strangely quiet for a moment.

Then Hiram heard the creak of Latham's swivel chair, followed by the soft sound of the lawyer's footsteps. The bathroom, he thought in sudden panic.

The footsteps moved closer.

Spector pushed another plastic garbage bag to one side. A rat the size of a dachshund launched itself toward him. The animal scrambled up his arm toward his throat. He grabbed it by the tail with one hand and banged its head into the edge of the metal barge. The rat squealed and twitched convulsively. He let it drop.

The sparkler was burning low, singeing his fingers. Tiny flakes of burning metal were irritating the back of Spectors hand. He tossed the sparkler over the side of the barge. There was a faint hiss when it hit the water.