George Martin - Jokertown Shuffle

The back seat of the cab was sticky. Jerry didn't want to know how it got that way. He'd found out the name of the driver at the Starline central office and had him sent down.

The cabbie was young and Middle Eastern. At first, he could barely speak English. But after Jerry introduced him to the Jackson twins-a trick he'd picked up from Ackroyd-the cabbie became more helpful. He told Jerry how he'd picked up Veronica, described her clothing, the way she smelled, and how she behaved. After a little more financial inducement, the cabbie agreed to drop Jerry off at Veronica's destination.

They were in an old part of Brooklyn. The red-and-white stone walls were faded, but for the most part clean. Kids with easy smiles played on stoops or out in the streets. The cab eased to a stop.

"Here. It was on this spot." The cabbie leaned across the seat and pointed through the passenger-side window. "That building. She went into there." The cabbie turned and smiled. "You are grateful now"

"Unspeakably." Jerry peeled off another twenty and handed it over. The cabbie certainly had grasped the essence of capitalism. Jerry got out of the cab and walked over to the stoop. He looked up.

Veronica was staring down at him. "Fuck." He didn't hear it, but he could read the word on her lips.

This wasn't going to be easy or fun. He fingered the door and went in. The paint on the walls was fresh, but the overhead light flickered. Jerry walked slowly toward the stairway at the end of the hall. He could hear kids screaming in Spanish inside one of the rooms.

She met him at the landing between the second and third floors. Her teeth were clenched, her eyes wide with anger. "Leave me alone, Jerry. Just leave me the fuck alone." She said the words slowly. "My family lives here. Do you understand?"

Jerry looked her in the eye and took a step forward, like a kid trying to sneak up on a cat. "He knows who you are, Veronica. He's going to come after you. Either you help me take Latham out, or you're as good as dead."

"What business is that of yours? Maybe I'm tired of living." She put her hand on his chest and pushed him backward. "There's plenty of high-priced hookers out there. You don't need to mess with me anymore."

"Veronica, look at me. Can you see what's wrong with me? I'm scared, just plain scared. Latham wants me dead too. I don't blame you for hating me. I'm not here to dredge up the past. I used you and I'm sorry. I can't fix what's already happened." He was trying to use her again, but this time it was actually for her own good. "He killed Hannah, and he killed my brother. There's no telling how many others. I've been after Latham for months, but I can't do it on my own."

"Why?"

"Because he's the head of the jumpers from the Rox and runs organized crime in this city, to boot. He's probably the most dangerous, ruthless man either one of us will ever meet." Jerry extended his palms. "I don't want to die yet. If you won't do it for me or yourself, do it for Hannah." Veronica leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. He could see the beginning of tears. "Leave me alone," she said. Jerry swallowed hard. He'd never seen Veronica hurting before. She'd always been so tough with him. He went up and put his arm around her. She shrugged it off violently, banging his hand painfully into the plaster.

"Sorry," Jerry said. "You were really in love with her. I just didn't understand that until now. I guess I didn't want to." He thought of how he'd feel if Beth was killed and someone tried to use that as a carrot on him, then backed away, ashamed. "I won't bother you anymore. You should get out of town and make a new start somewhere else. if you don't want my money, I could arrange for a loan."

"No," she said.

Jerry turned and walked slowly down the stairs. He was useless to her now. She knew him too well, and he didn't know her at all. That was probably much more his fault than hers.

"Jerry?" Veronica was looking down at him from the top of the stairs.

"Yes."

"What do you want me to do?"

Veronica was hard and all business again. "I want you to help me kill him."

Veronica was already inside. Jerry had fingered the service door to let her in, then walked around to the front of Latham's apartment building. After a brief conversation with someone upstairs, the doorman had let him in.

According to the old ad campaign, blonds were supposed to have more fun. Somehow, Jerry didn't expect that was going to be the case tonight. He was young, tawny, and gorgeous. They'd almost had to clean their shorts when he walked into the escort service. He was exactly what Latham wanted, a David Butler look-alike with just enough differences to make it believable.

Veronica met him at the elevator, and they stepped quietly inside. She was wearing a freshly ironed white blouse and navy pants. She fidgeted from one leg to the other as the car moved up the shaft to the penthouse. Jerry had been here before, and for the same reason. To kill Latham.

He'd blown it, though. Zelda had jumped him and only when she freaked out in his body had he been able to get away. He felt better about his chances this time, with Veronica along. All he had to do was take out Zelda. He touched the cloth of his shirt pocket, feeling the packet underneath. He was going to need it.

"I'm going to get the door unlocked and slightly open one way or the other," he said. "When I do that, move fast." Veronica nodded.

The elevator glided to a stop, and the doors opened. They stepped out, and Jerry motioned Veronica out of sight. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and knocked. Zelda opened the door, dressed in sweat clothes. Her eyes widened when she saw Jerry-David, but she quickly hid her surprise with a nasty smile.

Jerry took off his coat and folded it over his arm, then stepped inside.

"Look what we have here," Zelda said.

Latham emerged from the office, deep in conversation with a hairless pink bat. He looked at Jerry and stopped dead. His mouth hung open for a moment, then he closed it and eased over toward them. He was wearing a black silk robe with silver embroidery, and his hair was carefully blow-dried and combed. "Perfect," Latham said. "Ideal."

Jerry looked dubiously at the joker. "Nobody told me this was a group deal. I charge extra for bats."

"He won't be staying," Latham said coldly. He turned his attention to the bat. "Tell the governor that I'll take care of it."

The joker half walked and half flopped to the window. He perched momentarily on the sill. "Sorry to miss the fun, guys," he said. "Maybe next time." He dropped out of sight, and Jerry heard him flap noisily away.

Jerry put his arm around Zelda, and licked her neck, then bit it. "There's still plenty of us to make a party." Zelda grabbed Jerry by the throat and tossed him backward. Jerry's feet came out from under him, and he bounced across the carpeted floor on his seat.

"Don't touch me, whore," Zelda said, wiping her neck, "or I'll break every bone in your fucking body." She turned to Latham. "I'm going back to my workout." Zelda walked from the room.

Latham walked over and helped Jerry to his feet. He stared hard at Jerry's sculpted features, as if looking for something.

"Is your friend some kind of nutcase?" Jerry asked, throwing his coat on the back of the sofa.

"Zelda is very exceptional… in her own way." Latham guided him by the elbow over to the couch. "Please, sit down. I'll make us a drink."

Jerry eased back into the soft cushions. They were the only thing comfortable about the situation. "I hope I'm what you had in mind."

Latham smiled thinly. "Oh, yes. Exactly what I had in mind." Latham filled two glasses with liquor and sat down next to Jerry on the couch.

Jerry took the glass when it was offered and took a tentative sip. Whiskey he loved; scotch he detested. The liquor burned but didn't satisfy. Latham tilted his glass up and almost emptied it.