Down And Dirty

"You can't. And whatever happened to Gimli had nothing to do with you, not directly," Chrysalis answered forcefully. "No matter what he thinks. My best guess is that you've a mind power, but with a rather limited range. So even if you can make us say yes now, you can't enforce it."

She knows! Puppetman s wail echoed in Gregg's head. You've got to kill her. Please. It will taste good. We could make Oddity do it…

She suspects, that's all, he answered.

What's the difference? Have them killed; we have puppets who would find pleasure in it. Have them killed and we don't have to worry.

Kill them now and we have more trails to cover up. Misha wouldn't talk; we still don't know what evidence Chrysalis was given. Gimli's taken himself out of the picture, but there's still the other man in Video's memory-the Russian. And Sara. Puppetman's scorn was a barb.

Shut up. Sara we can control. Chrysalis will have plans made against her own death. We can't risk that.

The i

"Which means we can come to an accommodation," Chrysalis smiled.

"Maybe not. I think you still have a problem."

"Senator, the press has its obligations…" Downs began, then fell silent with the withering gaze Hartma

The door opened. Gri

"I'm a reasonable man," Gregg said as Chrysalis and Downs stared at the figure moaning on the floor-"All I ask is that you think about this. Remember that I will contest any evidence. Remember that I can and will produce that negative blood test. Think about the fact that I don't even want to hear the faintest whisper of a rumor. And realize that I leave the two of you alive because you're the best sources of information I know-you hear everything, or so you'd have me believe. Good. Use those sources. Because if I hear any rumors, if I see a piece in the papers or Aces, if I notice that people are asking strange questions, if I'm attacked or hurt or even feel vaguely threatened, I'll know where to come."

Downs was staring slack-jawed at Misha; Chrysalis had sunk back against her desk. She tried to meet Gregg's eyes and failed. "You see, I intend to use you, not the reverse," Gregg continued. "I hold the two of you responsible for silence and safety. You're both so damned good at what you do. So start learning who my enemies are and work at stopping them. I'm vindictive, and I'm dangerous. I'm everything Gimli and Misha were afraid I might be."

"And if anyone else ever learns that, I'll consider it your fault. You might damage my presidential campaign by being heroes, but that's all. You cant prove anything else. After all, I've never actually killed or hurt anyone myself. I'd still be on the streets, afterward. And I'd find you without any trouble at all. And then I'd do to you what I'd do to any enemy."

Puppetman was chuckling in his mind, anticipating. Gregg smiled at Chrysalis, at Downs. He hugged Mackie, who was watching him eagerly. "Enjoy yourself," Gregg told him. He gave Chrysalis a small nod that was chilling in its nonchalance and left the office. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it until he heard the whine of Mackie's ace.

He let Puppetman loose to ride with the youth's strange, brightly colored madness. He hardly had to nudge Mackie at all.

Inside, Mackie knelt and cradled Misha's head in his arms. Neither Chrysalis nor Downs moved. "Misha," he crooned. The woman opened her eyes, and the pain he saw behind them made him sigh. "Such a good little martyr," he told her. "She wouldn't talk no matter what I did, you know," he said to the others admiringly, his eyes skittering, bright. His hands roamed over her lacerated body. "She could be a saint. Such silence in suffering. So frigging noble." The smile he gave Misha was almost tender. "I took her like a boy first, before I cut her at all. Anything to say now, Misha?"

Her head rolled side to side, slowly.

Mackie was smiling fitfully, breathing hard and fast. "You couldn't really have hated the jokers," he said, looking down at her face. "You couldn't, or you would have talked." There was a strange sadness in the way he said it.

"Shahid." The word was a whisper from swollen; bloodcaked lips. Mackie leaned close to hear it.

"Arabic," he told them. "I don't understand Arabic." His hands were buzzing now, screaming. He ran his fingers around her breasts like a caress, and blood followed. Misha shrieked hoarsely; Downs gagged and threw up. Chrysalis remained stoic until Mackie slid his hand down Misha's stomach and let the coils of intestines spill wetly out over the carpet.

When he was done, he stood up and brushed away the gore covering the front of him. "The senator said you'd know how to take care of the mess," he told them. "He said you knew everything and everybody." Mackie chuckled, high and manic. He began to whistle: Brecht, the Threepe

With a casual wave he strolled through the wall and away.

Thursday, 7:35 P.M.

Sara stood on the corner of South across from the Jokertown Clinic. A cool front had moved in from Canada; low, scudding clouds spat wet circles on the pavement.

Sara glanced again at her watch. Misha was over an hour late. "I'll be there. I promise you, Sara. If I'm not there, know it's because he stopped me."

Sara cursed under her breath, wishing she knew what to think, what to feel.

"You'll have to decide what to do then."

"Can I help you, Ms. Morgenstern?" Tachyon's deep voice made her start. The scarlet-haired alien peered down at her with a look of intense concern on his face that she might have found comical at another time; during the recent junket, he'd more than once indicated he found her attractive. She laughed, hating the hysteria she heard in the sound.

"No. No, Doctor, I'm all right. I was… I was waiting for someone. We were supposed to meet here…"

Tachyon nodded solemnly, his startling eyes refusing to let her go. "You seemed nervous. I watched you from the clinic. I thought perhaps there was something I could do. Are you sure there's nothing I can help you with?"

"No." Her denial was too sharp, too loud. Sara was forced to smile to soften the effect. "Really. Thank you for asking. I was just about to leave, anyway. It doesn't look like she's going to show."

He nodded. He stared. At last he shrugged. "Aah," he said. "Well, it was good seeing you again. We don't need to be strangers now that the trip is over, Sara. Perhaps di

"Thank you, but…" Sara bit her lower lip in agitation, just wanting Tachyon to leave. She needed to think, needed to get away from here. "Maybe next time I'm in the city?"

"I'll hold you to that." Tachyon inclined his head like a Victorian lord, staring at her -strangely, then turned. Sara watched Tachyon make his way across the street to the clinic. The sky was begi