Wild Cards [07] Dead Man's Hand (46 page)

"Nice work, doc," Ackroyd said. "Now-"

"No."

"Look, goddammit "

"Decisions must be made.
Discussed
and made."

"I've made my decision."

"And I don't agree," Tachyon said flatly. "Grant
me
a little consideration in this, Ackroyd. I stand between three friends." The detective stared at Brennan. "Friends," he snorted. Tachyon lowered himself slowly back into his chair. Brennan could see the strain on his face, but the mental vise he'd placed upon Brennan's mind still held. "We will talk," the alien said, "but peace will lie upon this room."

Bending, Tachyon pulled his dagger from its boot sheath and dropped it on the carpet at his feet. Jennifer walked woodenly toward Tachyon and dropped her gun next to the knife. Tachyon turned to Brennan. "Daniel, will you lay down your weapon?"

There was no sense being stupidly stubborn. There was no way he could break Tachyon's mind control, and there was no way anything further would happen if he insisted on keeping his gun. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"And Ackroyd?" Tachyon asked. "What about you?"

"I hate this Takisian bullshit."

"I could take control of you and make you a dummy in these talks. I would prefer not to."

"Yeah, well, okay."

"Hands in pockets, please."

Tachyon released Brennan. He stepped forward and dropped his gun at Tachyon's feet. He looked at the alien with anger and bitterness in his eyes. "You betrayed me," he said.

"I prevented murder," the alien snapped. "Self-defense--"

"Oh, please!
We bandy with words. Killing, it's
all
killing! You kill Jay because he attempts to put you in the Tombs. You kill Hiram because you get to mete out justice. The end result is all the same-death! And it's got to
stop!"
Tachyon pressed the heel of his hand against his head as if trying to push back agony. He turned to Worchester, who had been a mute witness to this all. "Hiram, what do you intend to do?"

"That's already been decided," said Jay. "We'll take-"

"Shut up! Hiram?"

"I'll return to New York and turn myself over to the authorities."

"I'll accept that," Brennan said. It was a reasonable end to their difficulties. It was a solution Chrysalis would understand. "I don't recall him asking your fucking opinion," Jay gritted.

"He'd better take it into consideration," Brennan said. He turned to face Worchester. "If you get to the airport and change your mind, if you decide to run, you'd better know now that you'll never have another day's peace. I'll be coming for you."

"You utterly amaze me, Daniel, with your rigid, selfrighteous certainty," Tachyon said. "Who made you God? Who gave you the right to place your judgment above all others?"

Brennan barked a short, harsh laugh. "That's funny coming from you, Tachyon. Release Jennifer."

"No," Tachyon said, shaking his head.

"Why not?" Brennan asked, flaring with anger he could no longer suppress. "We have an agreement."

Jay plunged forward. "We've agreed to nothing. Hiram stands trial and maybe goes to prison for a
mistake,
while this guy walks free? Fuck that! If his little war excuses him, then Hiram should be completely exonerated."

"Jay," Tachyon said, shaking his head, "you've allowed your anger to replace your brains. Elmo stands accused of a crime he did not commit. Hiram has confessed to it. He must stand trial."

"Yeah, but we're talking involuntary manslaughter here. Voluntary manslaughter, tops. Hiram may walk out of that courtroom with probation." Jay jerked a thumb at Brennan. "How's Danny Boy gonna take that?"

"We'll all have to see, won't we?" Brennan said coldly.

"To hell with that," Jay said. "Why don't we let Hiram write out his confession and then get on a plane to Tibet or wherever the hell he wants to go?"

"He'll die before he ever reaches that plane," Brennan said softly.

"Not if you're behind bars."

Hiram stirred and got off the bed. He no longer looked lost, victimized. It seemed as if he'd made a decision and was determined to carry it through. "You can talk until you're both damned," he said. "This is my decision to make, and I will go to New York and stand trial because I choose to." He looked directly at Brennan. "And not because I'm afraid of you. I'm not."

And Brennan could see that that was true. Hiram had been through the fire and emerged cleansed. He looked as if he feared nothing now.

"Hiram-" Jay began.

"Jay, your friendship warms me, but I must do this. I've been a puppet for too long. First with ... him ... then with Ti Malice. Well, it's all over. I'm through being a puppet."

"Hiram's right," Tachyon said passionately. "Don 7t any of you understand? Hiram's trial is critical, not only for Elmo or Hiram, but for aU of us. The law is the witness of our moral life. Its history is the history of the moral development of your race. But my race upset the balance. We created superhumans, and the result has been a growing chaos. The Turtle assaults with impunity because he is armored literally and figuratively with the secret of his identity. I invade people's minds. You, Jay, violate their civil liberties. And Daniel, you kill them. If we don't demonstrate our willingness to abide by the rule of law, then we are everything Barnett says we are. We are dangerous and heedless and deserve to be controlled since we are unwilling or unable to abide by the rules of civilized society"

"That's fascinating," Brennan said dryly, "but you missed something. I'm not a wild card. I'm just a nat."

Jay whirled on him. "You bastard. Tachyon, all you've done is convince me that I'm right, and that this killer should be behind-"

Jay cut off in midsentence. Brennan looked at Tachyon, pale and shaken, who had half risen out of his chair.

"Yes," Tachyon said wearily. "I am once again playing God. Go, Daniel. Take your lady and go. Never return. If you do, know that I will not aid you."

Jennifer swayed drunkenly when Tachyon released her. Brennan caught her, supported her. He looked back at Tachyon once before he left the hotel suite, and Tachyon looked back. Neither parting glance was kind.

When Brennan and his girlfriend were both gone, Tachyon finally released his iron grip on Jay's body and mind. The alien was trembling, his brow beaded with sweat.

Jay ran to the door, jumped out into the hall, looked up and down. There was no one waiting for the elevators. He made a dash for the stairwell, slammed through the fire door, breathing hard. The stairs were empty, silent. They were gone.

Swearing loudly with disgust, Jay turned on his heel and stalked back to the room. He slammed the door shut behind him. The noise made Tachyon wince. Jay pointed at him, his arm trembling with tension. "I hope you realize what you've done," he said bitterly. "You've just let another Demise out onto the streets."

Tachyon looked at him for a long moment. Then the wide lilac eyes rolled up into his head, and the little alien fainted dead away.

"Oh, hell," Jay said. The perfect ending to a perfect week. He gave Hiram a weary look. "C'mon," he said, "help me tuck the little fuck into bed."

10:00 P.M.

Sometimes, Brennan thought, duty was never ending. He and Jennifer had left Atlanta immediately. They retrieved Brennan's van from the airport parking lot and drove to where the Crystal Palace used to be. Brennan got out and walked over to the ruins.

It was dark. There were few pedestrians on the street. There was nothing to bring them here now that the crystal lady was dead and her palace was gone. Brennan stared at the wreckage for a long moment. The stench of burning was still in the air, the tide of memories still flowed in his mind. He turned and stood before one of the piles of debris that had been around since the Jokertown riot. He waited until he saw eyes blinking inside it.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Sad. Our lady is gone and our home is burned."

"I didn't want that to happen," Brennan said. "But it did," the voice replied accusingly.

"Yes," Brennan said, "it did. Have you found anyplace else to go?"

The tiny head shook no.

"Yes, you have," Brennan said softly.

11:00 P.M.

Digger Downs was typing furiously on a laptop computer, so engrossed that he didn't notice when Jay stepped into his apartment. "You forgot to lock your door," Ackroyd announced loudly.

Digger glanced up from the screen, startled, and stared at Jay with a guilty look on his face. The reporter was four feet tall, going on five. He looked like a child playing with a Speak 'n Spell. "You," he said.

"Me," Jay admitted. "You really ought to lock your door. Never can tell when someone might break in and trash all your stuff." He looked around pointedly. Digger's apartment was just the way that Mackie Messer had left it. "You have a hell of a lot of nerve showing up here," Digger said. "I could of died in that goddamned cat box. They sent me all the way to
Alaska."

"Alaska, Atlanta, hey, that's close enough for government work," Jay said. He smiled. "At least you don't have to eat that airline food."

"It's not funny! I ought to sue you," Digger bitched. "By the time I finally got to Georgia, I was so big they had to cut me out of the goddamned box."

"If it's any consolation, I didn't have a whole lot of fun myself," Jay said. He crossed the room, stepping gingerly over the debris. "Anybody ever tell you you're a shitty housekeeper?"

Digger scowled. "I'm not touching a thing, not till the photographer's been here."

Jay sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say something like that," he said. "What are you writing?"

Digger hurriedly hit a key, storing the file he'd been working on, then slammed down the top of the little laptop computer so Jay couldn't read the file names off the screen. "None of your business," he said. "How'd you know I came home?"

"I'm a detective, remember?" Jay said. He cleared himself a space on one end of the sofa and sat down. "Let's not make this any harder than we have to. I just want to get the hell out of here, check myself into a hospital, and take some serious painkillers for about a month."

"So who's stopping you? Go."

"Not till we get something straight. You're not writing anything about Gregg Hartmann."

Digger laughed. "The hell I ain't. This is the story of my life. I'm writing it
all...
Syria, Berlin, Mackie Messer, the Crystal Palace,
everything....
I'm going to hang him out and watch him twist in the wind. I figure a special issue of
Aces
with nothing but the Hartmann expose. Or maybe I'll sell it to the
Washington Post,
really show that bimbo Sara Morgenstern a thing or two." He slapped the computer with his hand. "When this thing comes out, Greggie'll be lucky if they don't lynch him."

"Real good," Jay said wearily. "So how many other wild cards will get lynched in his place? Ever think about that?"

"That's not my concern," Digger said. "I'm a journalist, that's all. I just tell the truth and let the pieces fall where they may."

"Yeah," Jay said. "Funny, the truth wasn't so important when there was a chance those falling pieces might be coming off your body." He held up a hand before Downs could interrupt. "Just hear me out," he said. "I've already gone over this with Tachyon. He was right-this is a story that can't ever be told. There are reasons, Digger" He went over them, one by one.

Digger was unmoved. "You're asking me to be part of a cover-up," he said when Jay had finished.

"Real good," Jay said. "You got it."

"No way," Downs said with righteous indignation. "I got ethics. Besides, what about me? Why the hell should I let Hartmann off easy, he tried to have me
killed!
Forget it, Ackroyd."

"I know who killed Chrysalis," Jay said. "He's going to turn himself in tomorrow morning at the Jokertown precinct house. If you agree to drop the Hartmann expose, you can have that story instead. I'll arrange for the killer to give you a complete confession before he goes to the police." Jay had already talked it over with Hiram on the flight home. Hiram had agreed; Hiram was in a frame of mind to agree to most anything that might possibly spare further bloodshed. "It's quite a story," Jay said. "It's got blackmail, drugs, sex, death, aces, jokers, the works. Juicy." He ought to know. He'd helped Tachyon work out the details. What it didn't have was any mention of Gregg Hartmann or James Spector. Ti Malice was villain enough. "You can have an exclusive," Jay promised Digger. "In fact, how's this, I'll arrange for the killer to turn himself over to you, and you can deliver him to the cops."

For a moment, Digger looked tempted. Then his child's face screwed up in a frown. "Do I look stupid or what? The Hartmann. thing is headlines coast to coast, talk shows, books, hell, a Pulitzer for sure, maybe a
Nobel. No
way am I gonna swap that for some penny-ante Jokertown murder. I mean, gimme a break, Chrysalis? Who cares? She's just another dead joker."

"I'll throw in some money," Jay said.

Digger got indignant. "Hey, I don't take bribes, you got it? You can just keep your goddamned money, the American public has a right to know the truth."

Jay sighed deeply. He was running out of ammunition. "Okay," he said. "Have it your way." He stood up. "Once you run your little scoop, it's going to get real cold out there for wild cards, but if you think you can stand the chill, hey, who am I to argue?" He started for the door.

"Me?" Digger said. "Why should I have to stand the chill?"

Jay turned and looked back at him. "You're an ace, aren't you?" he said innocently. He touched a finger to the side of his nose and raised a meaningful eyebrow.

"But no one knows that," Digger said. Jay smiled.

"You wouldn't," Digger said, horrified. "I told you that in confidence, man. If anyone found out, I could be in a world of shit."

"So true," Jay said sympathetically. "You know, if it was up to me, I'd just as soon keep a lid on it, but..." He shrugged. "The American public has a right to know the truth."