George Martin - Ace In The Hole

"Mind if I join you?"

He looked at her. She wore clothes well, even the rumpled blue-and-white prom dress she had on at the moment, but her white-blonde hair was disordered and there was an unsteady look in her sunken eyes.

"I don't want to hear about it, Sara," Jack said.

"Can I borrow one of your cigarettes? I'm feeling a little-out of sorts. I saw a murder last night."

"The one in the mall?"

Sara's hands trembled as they extracted a Camel. "It was an ace," she said. "A weird twisted teenage kid. He cut Ricky to pieces. Right in front of me."

Jack decided he didn't want this woman's company for even a second. "Sara," he said.

She looked up at him. There was too much makeup around her eyes, he noticed, trying to hide the effects of a sleepless night.

"The point is," she said, trying to smile, "I don't want to be alone tonight."

Which maybe changes matters, Jack thought. He reached into his jacket for his lighter and lit her cigarette. She inhaled and began coughing uncontrollably. Tears sprang to her eyes. "Jesus," she said. "What are these?"

"The kind I learned to smoke in the Army."

"I used to smoke Carltons in college. I really shouldn't start again. Oh, hell." She stubbed the cigarette out as if driving a dagger into her worst enemy.

"Have a drink. It lasts longer." Jack signalled the waiter. At least, he thought nobly, he'd be taking this loose cannon out of play for a few hours, maybe a whole night. All this and get laid, too.

He looked at Sara and an idea came to him.

Maybe he could take her out of play for a lot longer than he first thought.

The North Expressway was jammed, but Tony jockeyed the black Regal through it effortlessly. Spector was glad they weren't eating at the Marriott. There was considerably less chance of someone recognizing him away from the hotel. Tonv had on a tailored, dark-blue suit and matching tie. Spector was in gray. His suit still smelled like the store.

"Where are we headed?" Spector asked.

"LaGrotta." Tony whipped across two lanes of traffic to take the Peachtree exit. "If I get us there alive. You'll love this place. Some of the best Italian food in town. Not New York, of course, but you go with what's available."

"Yeah, well, thanks for taking time out. I know you're real busy right now."

"I haven't seen you in ages, man. You get priority." Tony smiled. That smile had been turning women's hearts to goo and winning over men for as long as Spector had known Tony. He was a hard guy not to like.

"How did you wind up with Hartmann?" Spector wanted to keep Tony talking about himself. That way he wouldn't be asking many questions.

Tony shrugged. "One improbability leading to another. I got a loan and managed to talk my way into law school. Did some work in local politics. Just happened to be on the winning side a few times. Somebody in Gregg's camp noticed me and, well, I'm ethnic. That doesn't hurt."

"Plus, you're good. Always were. Good jump shot, good line for the girls." Spector smiled. "Hell, you could talk a good Catholic girl out of her clothes in less time than it took the rest of us to comb our hair."

"It's a sin to waste a God-given talent." Tony wagged his finger at Spector. "And you know how I avoid sin at all costs."

"Right." Spector glanced out the window. There were dark clouds gathering above the treetops with patches of gray below where the rain was already falling. "Looks like we might get wet."

"My friend, for a meal like this you'd swim the Hudson over to Teaneck." Tony made a contented sound. He looked over at Spector and kissed the tips of his fingers. "Trust me."

Thunder rumbled overhead. "I trust you, old buddy." Spector wished he could say it was a two-way street.

He woke suddenly. Filled with a sense of total well-being. Or perhaps filled was not the proper description. Empty, floating, freed at last from two years of pressure and anxiety.

Tach kicked free of the tangled sheets. The scent of sweat and sex hung heavy in the room. Realized with a thrill of disappointment that the bed was empty. Sat up, then relaxed back against the pillows at the flush of the toilet.

Fleur padded in, breasts swinging. She realized he was awake, and her arms crossed over her chest.

"Don't, I like to look at you."

"You're a heathen."

"Yes. You're a courtesan."

She lifted the drapes, and looked out. "That's not very nice."

"It was meant to be a compliment. Why haven't you married?"

"How do you know I haven't?" She leaned back against the window, one buttock cocked up on the narrow sill.

"I don't read married off you."

She stiffened. "Are you reading my mind?"

"No."

"You tried, the second time we did it."

"I would have tried the first time, but I was too busy trying to make certain that I stayed… er… firm."

"Don't read my mind!"

"All right. It makes sex better for me, but all right."

"I think it's horrible that you can violate people that way."

"Fleur, may I remind you that I didn't read your mind. I sensed your opposition, and I withdrew. I'm a very wellmannered person, not to mention charming and handsome and witty…" There was no lightening of her somber expression, and he trailed away into embarrassed silence. He fumbled his flask off the bedside table, and took a swig. "Your mother wanted so much for you. Husband, children, home, happiness."

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Why not?"

"It's old history." She slid into the bed, her hand reaching for his cock. "I want you in bed with me, not with her."

Spector loosened his belt a notch. He'd had a salad and lamb stew. Spezzatino de Montone Tony had called it, sampling a bite to make sure it was up to par. Tony had eaten a chicken-and-almond dish with buttered rice on the side. They'd split a strudel with custard for dessert, and that had done it for Spector. He wasn't used to eating this much and could practically feel the food piling up at the back of his throat.

Tony sighed. "Did I tell you?"

"Just as good as advertised." Spector drained what was left of the wine in his glass.

"We've been so busy eating that I haven't had a chance to ask you who you're lobbying for."

Spector tensed. So far, they'd talked about the old neighborhood, girls, basketball, what had happened to people. Tony had been his only good friend during his school years. It wasn't that people hated Spector, they just didn't notice him. Tony was Mr. Charisma. They were unlikely friends, but close all the same. Tony's question reminded him that he was here to kill Hartmann. It was an unavoidable fact. "Well, let's just say my employers don't share all the same views as your senator." Spector didn't want to lie, but he sure as hell didn't want to tell the truth either. Better to compromise.

Tony nodded and rounded up a few stray crumbs of strudel with his fork. "You don't want to talk about it, that's fine. You got any feelings about the wild card victims, I mean personally?"

"It's a tough break." Spector knew that as well as anyone, having drawn the black queen himself. Only Tachyon had been stupid enough to bring him back. "But there's lots of tough breaks. Some people just get a few more than others."

"Don't you think jokers are getting kicked around, though?" Tony was looking hard at Spector. He had a stake in this, somehow. Something that went beyond political attitude.

"Sure. But what are you going to do about it." Spector picked up the bottle of Pinot Nero and poured himself another glass.

" Make sure their rights are protected, just like any other American citizen. That's what I want. That's why I'm working for Hartmann." Tony sat silently for a moment. "Don't think that's too much to ask, do you?"

Spector shook his head. "No. I've been around a lot of jokers. But it's different with them. Blacks, Italians, whoever else, they all still look like people. It's not their own fault, but plenty of jokers look like they should be in a zoo. Most people react with their guts, not their brains." Spector knew, he'd always gone with his instincts. If he hadn't gotten the virus himself, he'd probably hate the jokers like the rest.