Aces Abroad

"I hope so," Rettig said.

Cordelia knew she was dismissed. She turned and headed for the door.

"See you on the plane," said Carlucci. "First class all the way. Hope you don't mind smoking."

She hesitated only momentarily, then said firmly, "I do." For the first time Carlucci frowned. Polly Rettig gri

Cordelia lived in an apartment with a single roommate in a high rise on Maiden Lane near the Woolworth Building and Jetboy's Tomb. Veronica wasn't home, so Cordelia scrawled a brief note. It took her about ten minutes to pack what she thought she'd need on the trip. Then she called Uncle Jack and asked whether he could meet her before she hopped the Tomlin Express. He could. It was one of his days off.

Jack Robicheaux was waiting for her in the diner when she entered from the avenue. No surprise. He knew the transit system below Manhattan better than anyone else.

Every time Cordelia saw her uncle, she felt as if she were looking into a mirror. True, he was male, twenty-five years older, sixty pounds heavier. But the dark hair and eyes were the same. So were the cheekbones. The family resemblance was undeniable. And then there was the less tangible similarity. Both had despaired of any kind of normal growing up in Louisiana; each in young adulthood had fled Cajun country and run away to New York City.

"Hey, Cordie." Jack rose to his feet when he saw her, gave her a firm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm going to Australia, Uncle Jack." She hadn't meant to give away the surprise, but it burst out anyway.

"No kidding." Jack gri

"Today."

"Yeah?" Jack sat down and leaned back in the green Naugahyde seat. "How come?"

She told him about the meeting.

Jack frowned at the mention of Carlucci. "You know what I think? Suza

"GF amp;G wouldn't go for that," said Cordelia. "They're legitimate, even if they do fu

"Desperation breeds a special blindness. Especially if the money's been laundered through Havana. I know Rosemary's been trying to steer the Gambiones into legitimate enterprise. I guess satellite TV qualifies."

"That's my job you're talking about," said Cordelia. "Better than hooking for the big E"

Cordelia knew her cheeks were coloring. Jack looked repentant. "Sorry," he said. " I wasn't trying to be bitchy."

"Listen, this was really a big day for me. I just wanted to share it."

"I appreciate that." Jack leaned across the Formica table. " I know you're go

"Halfway around the world?"

He nodded. "Doesn't matter how far. If I can't be there in person, maybe I can suggest something. And if you really need a fourteen-foot 'gator in the flesh"-he gri

She knew he meant it. That was why Jack was the only person in the Robicheaux clan who meant anything at all to her. "I'll be okay. It's going to be terrific." She got up from the booth.

"No coffee?"

"No time." She hefted the soft leather carry-on case. "I need the next train to Tomlin. Please tell C.C. good-bye for me. Bagabond and the cats too."

Jack nodded. "Still want the kitten?"

"You better believe it."

"I'll walk you to the station." Jack got up and took her case. She resisted only a moment before smiling and allowing him.

"There's something I want you to remember," said Jack. "Don't talk to strangers? Take my pill? Eat green vegetables?"

"Shut up," he said fondly. "Your power and mine, they may be related, but they're still different."

"I'm not as likely to get turned into a suitcase," said Cordelia.

He ignored her. "You've used the reptile level in your brain to control some pretty violent situations. You killed folks to protect yourself. Don't forget you can use the power for life too."

Cordelia felt bewildered. "I don't know how. It scares me. I just would rather ignore it."

"But you can't. Remember what I'm saying." Braving cabs, they crossed the avenue to the subway entrance. "Ever see much Nicolas Roeg?" Cordelia said. "Everything," said Jack.

"Maybe this will be my `walkabout."' "Just make it back in one piece."

She smiled. "If I can deal with a bull alligator here, I figure I can handle a bunch of crocodiles in Australia just fine."

Jack smiled too. It was a warm, friendly expression. But it showed all his teeth. Jack was a shape-shifter and Cordelia wasn't, but the family resemblance was unmistakable.

When she found Marty Carlucci at the United terminal at Tomlin, Cordelia discovered the man was carrying an expensive alligator overnight bag and a similarly appointed attache case. She was less than pleased, but there wasn't much she could say.

The woman working the computer at the ticketing counter gave them seats one row apart in first class smoking and nonsmoking. Cordelia suspected it wouldn't make much of a difference to her lungs, but felt she had won a moral decision. Also she suspected she'd feel more comfortable not having to sit with her shoulder rubbing up against his.

A good deal of the excitement of travel had worn off by the time the 747 set down at LAX. Cordelia spent much of the next two hours looking out at the early evening darkness and wondering if she'd ever get to see the La Brea Tar Pits, Watts Towers, Disneyland, Giant Insect National Monument, the Universal tour. She bought some paperbacks in the gift shop. Finally Carlucci and she were called for the Air New Zealand flight. As with the first leg, they had requested first-class seats on either side of the terminator dividing active smoke from passive.

Carlucci snored much of the way to Honolulu. Cordelia couldn't sleep at all. She divided her time between the new Jim Thompson mystery and staring out the window at the moonlit Pacific thirty-six thousand feet below.

Both Carlucci and she converted some of their traveler's checks into Australian dollars on the concourse in Honolulu. "The numbers are good." Carlucci gestured at the conversion chart taped to the window of the change booth. " I checked the paper before we left the States."

"We're still in the States." He ignored her.

Just to make conversation, she said, "You know a lot about finance?"

Pride filled his voice. "Wharton School of Finance and Commerce. Full ride. Family paid for it."

"You've got rich parents?" He ignored her.

The Air New Zealand jumbo loaded and took off, and the stewards fed the passengers one last time in preparation for tucking into the long night to Auckland. Cordelia switched on her reading light when the cabin illumination dimmed. Finally she heard Carlucci grumble from the row ahead, "Get some sleep, kiddo. jet lag's go

Cordelia realized the man had a valid point. She waited a few more minutes so that it would look more like it was her own idea, then switched off the light. She pulled the blanket tight around her and scrunched into the seat so she could look out the port. The travel excitement was almost all gone now. She realized she was indeed exhausted.

She saw no clouds. Just the shining ocean. She found it astonishing that anything could be so apparently endless. So enigmatic. It occurred to her that the Pacific could swallow up a 747 without more than the tiniest ripple.

Eer-moonans!

The words meant nothing to her. Eer-moonans.

The phrase was so soft it could have been a whisper in her mind.

Cordelia's eyes clicked open. Something was very wrong. The reassuring vibration of the jumbo's engines was somehow distorted, blended with the sigh of a rising wind. She tried to throw the suddenly strangling blanket away and clawed her way up the back of the seat ahead, nails biting into the cool leather.