Wild Cards [07] Dead Man's Hand (30 page)

"I can't talk over the phone. Meet me at the marina off Beaumont on the south shore of Sheepshead Bay."

"All right," Brennan said. "See you there."

Brennan hung up and bade good-bye to Mrs. Starfin, who was not sorry to see him go. He couldn't get Tripod's tone of voice out of his mind. It sounded as if he'd discovered something bad. Perhaps, Brennan thought, Sascha's body? That would explain his reluctance to discuss his discovery in detail over the phone.

The Beaumont Marina was new and rather high-class. The ships tied in at the various slips were all rich-man crafts, not the skiffs of the casual, weekend sailor.

Brennan prowled among the slips for several minutes before he noticed Tripod standing alone at the end of a dock, looking out over the bay. Brennan hustled over to him. "What's up?" he asked.

Tripod turned to him. His face was battered and bruised. "Sorry, Mr. Y," he said, "they made me make the call." He nodded down at the boat tied into the dock's last slip. It was a sleek twin-engine yacht with the name
Asian Princess
stenciled on the side. Wyrm was standing there with a grin on his reptilian face, showing lots of teeth. He was accompanied by two Immaculate Egrets and a huge joker. The joker had normal if thick legs, but from the waist up had two torsos, two pairs of shoulders and arms, and two heads.

He seemed vaguely familiar; Brennan realized he'd seen him among the crowd at Squisher's. He must have squealed to Wyrm about Tripod.

"There he is," one of the heads said with satisfaction. "I told you he'd come."

"You were right, Rick," Wyrm said, still smiling.

"I'm Mick," the head said. He jerked a thumb at his other head. "That's Rick. He didn't want to do this."

"I did, too," the other head answered. "No you didn't. You were scared."

"Was not.."

"Was too."

"Was--"

"All right," Wyrm said loudly, interrupting the squabbling heads. "Here." He proffered a roll of bills, which a hand belonging to Mick snatched before Rick could.

"That's mine!" Rick protested.

"Mine tool" Mick said. "I helped beat up the armless geekl"

"Enough!" Wyrm said. His good humor quickly turned to exasperation. He said to Brennan, "You embarrassssed me in front of Sssui Ma," he said. "Now it'ssss payback time. join us on deck, won't you? You too," he said to Tripod.

The Egrets had their guns out, so Brennan wasn't about to argue with Wyrm. He steadied Tripod as the joker stepped onto the gently rocking boat, then followed him onto the deck.

"What do you want?" Brennan asked his old foe. Wyrm's eyes gleamed with returned good humor. "Just a swimming contest. We're going to see if you can swim Ssssheepssshead Bay weighed down by thossse." He pointed at a pair of chains with lead weights attached, then turned to the Egrets. "Tie them up."

The Egrets did so quickly and efficiently while Wyrm covered them and Rick and Mick chatted inanely. When they were trussed up to Wyrm's satisfaction, he ordered the Egrets to take them down into the cabin for safekeeping while Wyrm went to the control console to pilot the ship into deep water. Rick and Mick went to cast off the line.

"Sorry," Tripod said again as they shuffled into the cabin. Brennan's hands and legs, and Tripod's legs, had been bound with rope, but the weighted chains hadn't been added yet.

Brennan shrugged. "There wasn't anything you could do."

The cabin was plush and expensive looking, complete with luxurious sofa, deep pile carpeting, and a wet bar. "How about a drink?" Brennan suggested after Wyrm started the engines and the
Princess
pulled away from its slip. One of the Egrets laughed. "You don't want to drink before going into the water," he said. "Stomach cramps. I ain't going to be swimming this afternoon, though." Brennan turned to Tripod. "He's probably right," he said. "You can't be too careful when it comes to boats." He swung his bound hands at the closest Egret and caught him square in the throat, crushing his windpipe. As he went down choking, the other Egret whirled, reaching for the gun he'd put down while he was pouring a shot of scotch.

Brennan shuffled forward, crashing into him shoulder first, and they both fell to the floor. The Egret opened his mouth to yell, and Tripod fell on his head, muffling his screams.

Brennan picked up the Egret's gun clumsily with both hands and rammed it against his chest. He pulled the trigger and the Egret jerked once and was still.

The other was crawling about the cabin, making mewling sounds as he gasped for breath. Brennan caught up with him and clubbed him down with the barrel of the pistol, not wanting to risk alerting the others on deck with another shot. Tripod took a deep breath. "I knew you'd get us out of this," he said in a relieved voice.

"We're not out of it yet," Brennan said.

Tripod rolled over to where Brennan was sitting on the floor, leaning against the cabin's plush sofa. "We will be in a minute." His dexterous third foot was free. He quickly untied Brennan, who returned the favor.

"What do we do now?" Tripod asked. "How about trying our hands at piracy?"

They crept onto the deck. Wyrm was at the wheel. Rick and Mick were arguing. Wyrm said exasperatedly, "Well, if Rick thought he heard something below, you should go check it out."

"No need," Brennan said.

Startled, they turned to see Brennan standing there pointing a gun at them. Wyrm hissed in hate and frustration. Rick and Mick looked at each other.

" I told you we shouldn't get involved," Mick said. For once, Rick said nothing.

Brennan glanced at the boat's position. They were nearing the middle of the bay, and there were no other boats in the vicinity.

"Time for the swimming contest," he said.

He gestured Wyrm away from the wheel with his gun. For a moment the joker hesitated, but then he moved. "You're lucky," Brennan said in a hard voice, "that I decided to dispense with the chains. Over you go."

Wyrm looked like he wanted to say something, then thought better of it and swallowed his exit line. He went over the edge without a word.

Brennan turned to Rick and Mick.

"Hey," Mick said. "I didn't want to have anything to do with this."

"You're just a victim of the company you keep," Brennan suggested.

"That's right. Rick's a bad influence."

"Jump or die," Brennan said. "It makes no difference to me."

Rick and Mick looked at each other, nodded, and leaped over the side of the ship. They made a big splash when they hit the water.

Tripod let out a deep sigh of relief. "You know, Mr. Y, I think I need some time off."

"A vacation would probably be in order," Brennan said as he took the wheel. "Know anybody who buys boats?" Tripod brightened. "There's this guy in Jersey. . . ."

6:00 P.M.

It was a hundred times more complex than a snowflake, delicate as the finest lace, like a flower made of ice. Jay stared at the image on the screen of the electron microscope for a long time. "Jesus," he said, releasing the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, "it's beautiful."

Tachyon pushed back his long red hair. "Yes, I suppose it is. Trust us Takisians to create a virus to match our aesthetic ideal." He pivoted on the lab stool and suddenly yelled out,
"Ackroyd!"

Jay turned just as Hiram started to go down in a faint. He grabbed one arm, Tach the other. Hiram's weight brought them all down with a thump. On the floor, the huge ace ran a hand across his face and said, "Sorry, must have blacked out for an instant."

Tach gave him a hit from a pocket flask, and Hiram sucked it down greedily. Jay suddenly realized how thirsty he was. "Hey, can I have a sip of that? It's been a hell of a week." Tach handed it to him wordlessly, and Jay tried a swallow. Brandy. Well, it was better than nothing.

"There can be no doubt?" Hiram was asking. "None."

"But just because he's an ace... well, that proves nothing. He'd have been mad to admit to the virus. He might be a latent."

Tachyon stared up at the ceiling. He looked lost. Jay broke the silence. "So what do we do now?"

"A very good question," Tachyon said. "You mean you don't know?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I do not have the solution to every problem."

Hiram struggled to his feet ponderously. "We've got to have more proof than this," he said.

Jay jerked a thumb at the fancy microscope. "What more proof do you want?"

"We don't know if he's done anything wrong!"

"He had Chrysalis
killed!"
Jay said, rising to face him. "I demand
evidence of
wrongdoing." Hiram whacked a closed fist into an open palm.

Jay pointed at the screen. "That's evidence."

"Stop it! Stop it!" Tachyon yelled.

Hiram took the alien by the shoulders. "You go to him. Talk to him. There may be some logical explanation. Think of all the good he's done-"

"Oh, yeah," Jay said with all the sarcasm he could muster. He was sick and tired of hearing about Saint Gregg. He took another hit of brandy.

"Think of what we stand to lose," Hiram cried. Sometimes Hiram's innocence was unbearable. "So he'll just lie to Tachyon," Jay said. "Where the hell does that get us?"

"He cannot lie to me," Tachyon announced portentously. Hiram took his hands away, and Tach straightened like a man trying to be tall. It didn't work very well. "If I go to him, you know what I will do," he told Hiram. "Will you accept the truth of what I read in his mind?"

"Yes," Worchester said.

"Even though it is inadmissible in a court of law?"

"Yes."

Tachyon danced around to face Jay. "As for you, Mr. Ackroyd, take the jacket. Destroy it."

Fleeting visions of the world of shit he'd lived through to find the jacket passed through Jay Ackroyd's mind, and he protested. "Hey, that's our only proof!"

"Proof? Are you really suggesting that we publicize this?
Think.
What we hold could spell the ruin of every wild card in America."

Stubbornly, Jay said, "But he killed Chrysalis, and if we don't nail him, Elmo takes the fall."

That was too much for the alien. All of a sudden Tachyon started pulling at his hair in something that looked perilously close to a hysterical frenzy.
"Damn you, damn you, damn
you. "

"Look, it's not my fault," Jay said, scared that Tach was about to burst into tears. "But I'm damned if I'm going to agree to some sleazy. little deal that lets Chrysalis's murderer walk."

"I swear to you upon my honor and blood that I will not let Elmo suffer."

"Yeah? What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet!" Tachyon switched off the electron microscope, removed the slide, washed the incriminating scraps of fabric down the sink. Hiram moved to follow when the alien started to leave, but Tach stopped him. "No, Hiram. I must do this alone."

Jay pointed out the obvious objection. "And if he's got Buzz Saw Boy waiting for you?" he asked.

"That's the risk I must take."

7:00 P.M.

"It's all," Brennan told Jennifer grimly, ",just a matter of patience."

For what was perhaps the tenth time in the last hour one of the Freakers patrons cruised their table, eyeing Brennan and Jennifer speculatively. For the tenth time in the past hour, Brennan gave a cold stare that made the cruiser move on without lingering.

"But," he added through gritted teeth, "I'm about all out."

He'd made it back to Freakers about an hour ago and had told Jennifer about his nautical adventures and Tripod's wise decision -to go on vacation in Florida until things quieted down. He'd had quite a bankroll to finance it, because Kien's
Asian Princess
had brought a nice sum from Tripod's boatbroker acquaintance, which they'd split fifty-fifty.

A cocktail waitress with a Medusa head of twitching blind worms came up to their table.

"We're waiting for someone," Brennan said.

She smiled. "Someone in particular," she asked, "or will anyone do?"

Brennan ground his teeth together. He started to answer her, stopped, and gripped Jennifer's arm while nodding toward the bar. "Here," he said, giving the barmaid a twenty without looking at her. "Go away."

She took the bill, slipped it into her ample cleavage, and went off on her rounds.

"It's him," Jennifer whispered. Brennan nodded. "Wait here."

Kant was at the bar. Even from across the room Brennan could see that he was highly agitated. He was questioning one of the bartenders as Brennan came up quietly behind him. The bartender was shaking his head.

"She ain't been in for a couple of days."

Kant was disheveled and had a rank, reptile-house smell about him.

"You don't understand," he told the bartender. "I need her. I need the kiss!"

A woman sitting at the bar swiveled toward him, her face hidden by a cheap, glittery mask. "You sound like you need it bad, doll."

Kant turned to her. His eyes were bloodshot, his breath was a husky rattle.

"I'll kiss you, honey," the woman said. "Anywhere you want."

Kant growled wordlessly and struck her backhanded across the face, knocking her from the bar stool. She gazed up at him in terror as he towered over her, glowering like a madman.

"I don't need a filthy whore!" he screamed. He pounded his fist on the bar, then shuddered all over like a dog throwing off water. He brought himself under control with great effort and hissed, "I need the kiss!"

He whirled and almost trampled Brennan as he lunged toward the door. No one tried to stop him. Brennan turned to signal Jennifer and saw that she was already at his side. He took his bow case from her and said quietly, "Let's go."

It was the easiest tailing job Brennan had ever done. Kant left a trail of disgruntled pedestrians in his wake as he obliviously slammed through them. The biggest problem Brennan had was keeping up with him. Kant wasn't exactly running, but he was moving with the urgency of a man who had to find a bathroom.

They followed him for half a dozen blocks to a shabby five-story apartment building. It was solid and functional looking, with no pretense toward elegance or security. Kant went in the lobby and after a moment Brennan and Jennifer followed him. They heard him pound up the stairs and then followed at a more sedate pace all the way to the top, meeting no one else on the way.