Dead Mans Hand

Jay gaped at him. The notion of the prissy little alien prince working for the Soviets was the craziest thing he'd ever heard. He would have been less surprised if Tachyon had confessed that he was really an elf. "Why?" was all he could manage.

"Hartma

"Co

"Oh hell." Jay sat down. He didn't know whether he should laugh or cry. Laugh, probably; he could always count on Tach to take care of the weeping.

"This is the bludgeon with which Hartma

"You want me to pop this guy away."

"Yes. Already the FBI and the Secret Service have been alerted. They are combing Atlanta for George."

"Are you still a commie?" Jay asked, straight-faced.

Dr. Tachyon clutched at the little doily he wore at his throat, and drew himself up to his full height. "I? Consider, Mr. Ackroyd."

"Yeah," Jay said, "I get your drift." He stood up. "Well, hey, it's all ancient history to me. Let's go pop this commie somewhere."

Tachyon gave him a grave little nod and went to the bedroom. "Blaise," he called.

"You're taking him?" Jay was surprised. "I mean, he knows?"

"Of course. Come, child," he said to Blaise. The teenager shot him a venomous glance, but Tachyon missed it. " I want you to have a chance to say farewell to George."

11:00 A.M.

Captain Angela Ellis stamped out a cigarette in the overflowing ashtray and immediately lit another. She strode up and down before the chair in which Bre

"How long do you think you can remain silent?" she asked Bre

Bre

"Christ! Why were you sitting in a car before the Crystal Palace at ten-oh-five this morning? What had been your relationship with Chrysalis? Did you kill her?"

Bre

Maseryk, sitting in the rear of the room, cleared his voice. "Begging your pardon, Captain, but I don't think he'll say anything."

Ellis whirled on him. "Somebody's got to say something! Some idiot let it leak that we've collared Yeoman, the bowand-arrow killer, and there's gotta be a hundred reporters yammering at the sergeant on the front desk, and about half a dozen federal agencies are sending agents over to `look into the affair,' as they put it."

"As far as I know," Bre

"Are you saying you're i

Bre

"Superficially," Bre

"Close enough," Ellis ground out, "so that we can hold you until the feds arrive with this deserter's dossier. Which includes his fingerprints."

"As you will," Bre

The cop nodded. "All right, tough guy, move it."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea-" Maseryk began, but Ellis nailed him with a stare, and he fell silent.

The cop led Bre

The jailer gri

Bre

"Shoot," someone said from the back of the cell. "He don't look too tough to me."

"He looks like a pussy," someone else said.. "Take away his bow and arrow and he's just a pussy."

There was some low, cautious laughter. The man who spoke first pushed his way to the front of the cell where Bre

"He is a pussy," the first said. "Here pussy, pussy, pussy. We got something for you."

Bre

The door shook when the thug rammed up against it. His left arm went through the bars. Bre

His howling grew louder, and Bre

"Anyone else?" he asked quietly.

There were mumbled denials, then a high, feminine voice said, "How about me?"

The mob of thugs parted like the Red Sea and there were awed, unbelieving whispers as Je

It was like nothing Bre

Bre

"Let's see if we can find you some clothes somewhere," he said to Je

Je

She obviously needed medical attention, but Tachyon, the only doctor Bre

They were being followed.

Jay looked away from the taxi's sideview mirror. "Somebody's on us," he said.

"What?" Tachyon turned all the way around and gaped out the back rear window, staring suspiciously at the Volvo immediately behind.

Jay touched his arm. "Easy. He's good. You'll never spot him that way. Cabby." The detective fished out his wallet. "There's an extra fifty in it for you if you can lose the gray Dodge. Back about three cars."