Aces Abroad

"Money talks,"-Downs said. "Nobody walks."

"Inelegantly put," Hiram said, begi

"Now, wait a minute-" Carnifex began.

"I'm a man of not inconsiderable means," Hiram said, scooping up a handful of mints from a silver salver in passing. " I can contribute a fair amount-"

"I have money," Peregrine said excitedly. "I'll help." Mordecai frowned. "I'm not crazy about politicians, but shoot, I feel I lost the man and shit. Count me in, for what it's worth."

"Hold on, dammit!" Billy Ray said. "President Reagan has already a

"Maybe he'll go for it if we throw in a Bible and a mess of rocket launchers," Mordecai said.

Hiram elevated his chin. "We're private citizens, Mr. Ray. We can do as we please."

"We'll by God see-"

The door opened. Xavier Desmond walked in. " I couldn't bear to sit alone any longer," he said. "I'm so worried-my God, Mordecai, what are you doing here?"

"Never mind that, Des," Hiram said. "We've got a plan."

The man from the Federal Criminal Office tapped his pack of cigarettes on the edge of the desk in the crisis center in City Hall, shook out a cigarette, and put it between his lips. "What on earth were you thinking of, permitting that to go over the air without consulting me!" He made no move to light the cigarette. He had a young man's face with an old man's wrinkles, and lynx yellow eyes. His ears stuck out.

"Herr Neuma

" I don't mean that. How are we to control this situation if we're not even informed when steps like this are taken?" He leaned back and stroked a finger down one of the furrows that bracketed his mouth. "This could turn into Munich all' over again."

Tachyon studied the digital clock built into the high heel of one of the pair of boots he'd bought on the Ku'damn the day before. Aside from the clocks he was in full seventeenthcentury regalia. This tour was a political stunt, he thought. But still, we might have accomplished some good. Is this how it's going to end?

"Who is this al-Muezzin?" he asked.

"Daoud Hassani is his name. He's an ace who can destroy things with his voice, rather like your own late ace Howler," Neuma

"I'm afraid we've heard far from the last of the Light of Allah," Tachyon said. Neuma

If only that wretched woman had finished the job, Tach thought. He was careful not to speak it aloud, These Earthers could be sensitive about such things.

Sweat ran down the side of his neck and into the lace collar of his blouse. The radiator hummed and groaned with heat. I wish they were less sensitive to cold. Why do these Germans insist on making their hot planet so much hotter? The door opened. Clamor spilled in from the international press corps crammed into the corridor outside. A political aide slipped inside and whispered to the mayor's man. The mayor's man petulantly slammed down his phone.

"Ms. Morgenstern has come from the Kempinski," he a

"Bring her in at once," Tachyon said.

The mayor's man jutted his underlip, which gleamed wet in the fluorescents. "Impossible. She's a member of the press, and we have excluded the press from this room for the duration."

Tachyon looked at the man down the length of his fine, straight nose. "I demand that Ms. Morgenstern be admitted at once," he said in that tone of voice reserved on Takis for grooms who tread on freshly polished boots and serving maids who spill soup on heads of allied Psi Lord houses who are guesting in the manor.

"Let her in," Neuma

Sara was wearing a white trench coat with a hand-wide belt red as a bloody bandage. Tach shook his head. Like all fashion statements she made, this one jarred.

She came to him. They shared a brief, dry embrace. She turned away, unslinging her heavy handbag.

Tachyon wondered. Had that been a touch of metal in her watercolor eyes, or only tears?

"Did. you hear that?" the redhead called A

Early afternoon. The radio simmered with reports and conjectures about the kidnapping. The terrorists were exalted, strutting and puffing for each other's benefit.

"One more drop of blood to avenge our brothers in Palestine," said Wolf sonorously.

"What about the nigger ace?" demanded the one who looked like a lifeguard and answered to Ulrich. "Has he died yet?"

"He's not going to anytime soon," A

"That's bullshit! I hit him with half a magazine. I saw that van fall on him."

A

"Three," said Comrade Wilfried, who was still monitoring the airwaves. "The other, uh, policeman just died." He swallowed.

A

"I killed somebody too," said the boy's voice from behind Hartma

The power didn't answer.

The leather boy shuffled forward. Hartma

"Comrade Dieter," the teenager said. "I offed himbrrr-like that!" He held his hands up in front of him and suddenly they were vibrating like a powersaw blade, a blur of lethality.

An ace! Hartma

Through the pounding in his ears Hartma

Mackie tucked his head down. "He was an informer, Comrade," he said sidelong. His eyes jittered between Wolf and the other. "Comrade Wolf ordered me to take him into custody. But he-he tried to kill me! That was it. He pulled a gun on me and I buzzed him off." He brandished a vibrating hand again.

The man came slowly forward where Hartma

"Why wasn't I told of this, Wolf?" The voice stayed level, but Puppetman could hear an unspoken shout of anger. There was sadness too-the power was pulling it in, no question now. And a hell of a lot of fear.

Wolf rolled heavy shoulders. "There was a lot going on this morning, Comrade Molniya. I learned that Dieter pla