Jokers Wild

"God, I wish it was daylight. We might have a shot at finding them," Spector said.

"If it was daylight, you'd have to fight the gulls. They swarm around these barges like bees to honey. Pick you to pieces if you're not careful. Don't give up yet," said Ralph. He pulled another sparkler out of the box and lit it off the one he was holding, then handed it to Spector. "Those notebooks are on this barge somewhere, and we're going to find them."

Spector was feeling stronger as time passed. His foot didn't hurt nearly as much as before. The stump was getting longer and separating at the end, like toes were trying to reform. The smell on the barge was so strong that even Spector was bothered by it. He wished for a breeze and started digging through the garbage again.

"That's it. Don't give up." Ralph sorted through the trash quickly but carefully. But he'd had a lot of practice.

Spector liked Ralph, but he wasn't happy about it. He couldn't remember the last time somebody went out of their way to help him. He'd feel pretty rotten if he had to kill the guy, but it was probably the smart thing to do. He couldn't have somebody ru

"Say, friend. You never told me your name."

"Allen," Spector said. "Tommy Allen." He didn't know why he'd bothered to lie; he was going to snuff Ralph anyway. "Nice to meet you, Tommy." Ralph extended a garbagesmeared hand. Spector hesitated, then grasped it and shook once. "What's your line of work?"

"I'm, uh, an exterminator." Spector took a few steps away from Ralph and dug into some fresh garbage. He tossed a couple of paper sacks aside and unearthed a broken-clown couch. The cushions were gone and the beige paisley fabric stained, but it looked okay otherwise.

"See what I mean?" Ralph was still right behind him. "Perfectly good stuff. I could clean it up with my Steamatic and it'd be almost as good as new"

Spector slumped onto the couch. The chance of finding the notebooks was getting worse and worse. Just his luck, to get hold of something like that and lose it right away. He could have nailed the Astronomer and set himself up for life.

Ralph sat down beside him and looked at Spector 's clothes. The stains from the garbage helped to disguise the blood. "Boy, those guys worked you over good. That's one thing about living in a garbage dump, crime rate's mighty low" Spector was silent. He stared directly at the sparkler, letting the magnesium brightness burn itself onto his retina. He wondered what the Astronomer was going to do to him. Things were probably going to get even worse than they were now, impossible as that seemed. Dying again was the simplest solution, but it wasn't what he had in mind.

Ralph stuck the handle of his sparkler into the edge of the couch, then leaned over and shoved his arms back into the trash up to his elbows. He turned to look at Spector and furrowed his brow, then pulled out a plastic-covered package. "Look familiar?"

Spector grabbed the package and wiped it off on his pants leg. He was seeing spots from looking at the sparkler, but knew it was the notebooks. He hurled his sparkler as far out into the river as he could. "Goddamn. Maybe my luck's changing."

Ralph nodded and smiled. "Told you we'd find them. Garbage can't hide anything from me for long."

"Well, you were right." Spector shoved the notebooks back into his pants. He wasn't taking them out again until he handed them over to Latham.

"Writ here." Ralph got up off the couch and began wading away through the garbage. "This calls for a real celebration." Spector looked at his watch. It was 10:55. He had to get moving soon. There was no telling when the Astronomer would come looking for him, and he wanted plenty of tough company around by then. The Astronomer was saving Fortunato for last, so jumping Jack Flash and Peregrine were probably next on the list. Or maybe Tachyon. Taking them on was bound to push him to the limit, even with Imp and Insulin around to help out. Spector sighed. He might as well kill Ralph now and get it over with.

He saw Ralph light something at the other end of the barge, then move to another to touch it off. Two small flames slowly grew into cascades of colored light, fountaining twenty or thirty feet into the air. Ralph was standing well away from them, his back to Spector. He appeared to be keeping an eye on the fountains to make sure the barge didn't catch on fire. Couldn't have his ride home going up in flames.

Spector made his way to the shore end of the barge and stepped off The fireworks would attract attention and that was the last thing he wanted. There was no time to kill Mr. Garbage right now He'd do it later. If he survived the night.

He hobbled to the chain-link fence and climbed it slowly, trying to use his bad foot as little as possible. He hauled his body over the top and lowered himself down the other side. His foot still hurt if he tried to put his entire weight on it. He could see it now It was pink and there were toes taking shape. He might be fully healed by this time tomorrow. If he was still alive by then.

Spector had to contact Latham first. He dug into his coat pocket for the card with the lawyer's phone number. Getting a taxi was going to be hell. He could always kill somebody and take their car, but he wanted to keep things as uncomplicated as possible.

He limped away down the street looking for a pay phone.

It took Je

She finally made it, unobserved she thought, down to the street, where she merged with the pedestrian traffic and headed toward the corner of 43rd and Seventh, carefully keeping to the darkness and ignoring the occasional invitations to come party. The streets became more densely jammed with drinking, dope-smoking revelers as she approached Times Square, which was almost as crowded as it is on New Year's Eve. The people milling about the streets were determined, damned determined it seemed, not to let anything get in the way of a good time. Their desperate attitude tainted the atmosphere with a taste of depression, as well as something of menace.

Maybe, Je

She was never so happy to see someone as when she saw Bre

"I wasn't sure you'd show up," he said curtly.

"Why?" They spoke in low voices, even though none of the people milling around seemed to be paying them any attention.

"The Tachyon statue was smashed, scattered around the gallery. The books were gone," he said in clipped tones. "Gone?" The astonishment in her voice and on her face softened his expression. He sighed, rubbed his chin wearily. "Kien must have gotten to them… somehow