"I'm fine. They always want to mess you pretty boys up. Figure us ugly guys got enough trouble already." Spector shook his head. "You're going to make some dentist very happy. He's going to look at your mouth and see a new home entertainment system."
Tony was quiet for a moment. "You heard about Ellen?"
"Yeah." The news about Mrs. Hartmann's miscarriage had been the day's top news story. "A shitty break. Sorry."
"From a personal standpoint, I am, too. But this is going to put the man over the top at the convention." Tony reached up and scratched his nose, then winced. "I guess that sounds kind of cold. But it's going to help so many people that I think the trade off is worth it."
Spector glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. "I've got to get going, Tony. Things to do. I may not get a chance to see you again for a while, but I can always look you up on Pennsylvania Avenue."
"Can you do me a favor before you leave?"
"Sure, name it."
"All my writing stuff is at the Marriott. I know we're getting the nomination tonight and I have to finish off the acceptance speech. There's a black briefcase on my bed. It's got everything I'll need, my laptop, CD player." Tony edged his shoulders up the bed, sitting up as straight as possible. "With Ellen's accident and the story about some assassin hanging around, there's nobody else to get it for me. I kind of got lost in the shuffle."
"Uh, I don't think they're just going to let me waltz up to your room to pick up your shit." Spector felt bad about crawfishing, but really didn't want to go back to the Marriott. He might see Barnett and have to kill the bastard.
"No problem. I'll write you out a note. Show it to the security people at the entrance and they'll take care of it. I can call the nurse at the front desk here, have her give you my room key."
Spector couldn't say no, much as he wanted to. "Okay. It may take awhile. Traffic is a bitch out there."
Tony smiled. Even with split, purple lips, the guy still came across like a winner. He took Spector's hand and shook it. "The team's still working."
"Right," Spector said, handing him a pen and a piece of paper. "I couldn't let you go outside looking like that. You'd need a mask to cover up all those stitches."
Tony grabbed him by the elbow. "That's it, Jim. Masks. That's the angle I'll work with. Something that really showcases joker's Rights." He let go of Spector and raised his hands.
"America, wear a mask for one day. See what it's like to be treated as something less than human."
Spector stood quietly for a moment. "I think it needs a little work. "
"No problem. Now that I've got the angle, the words will come." Tony began writing.
"I'll get your stuff back as soon as I can." Spector didn't shake his head until he was out of the room.
6:00 P.M.
Projected on the screen of the electron microscope, the wild card lay in its distinctive crystal pattern.
"Jesus," breathed Ackroyd. "It's beautiful."
Tachyon scraped back his bangs. "Yes, I suppose it is." He grimaced. "Trust us Takisians to create a virus to match our aesthetic ideal."
He swung around on the lab stool just as Hiram began to slide down the wall.
"Ackroyd!"
They each grabbed an arm, but it was like trying to stop an avalanche. All three ended up seated on the floor. Hiram ran a hand across his eyes and muttered, "Sorry, must have blacked out for an instant."
Unlimbering his flask, Tach held it to Hiram's lips. Worchester gulped down brandy, then his head fell to the side as if his neck were too fragile to support its weight. An enormous, ugly scab crusted on his neck. Tach touched it with a cautious forefinger, and Hiram straightened abruptly. "Hey, can I have a sip of that?" Jay pointed with his chin to the flask. "It's been a hell of a week." The detective's Adam's apple worked as he gulped down the brandy. Ackroyd gusted a sigh, and wiped his mouth.
"There can be no doubt?" Hiram's eyes pleaded with Tachyon.
"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."
An uneasy silence fell over the three men. Tachyon, squatting on his heels, gazed thoughtfully up at the ceiling. Three floors above him Ellen Hartmann rested in her hospital room. Dreaming of her lost child. Never dreaming that her husband was a secret ace, and possibly a ruthless killer. Or had she known all along?
Jay cleared his throat and asked, "So what do we do now?"
"A very good question," sighed Tachyon.
"You mean you don't know?"
"Contrary to popular belief I do not have the solution to every problem."
"We've got to have more proof than this," said Hiram, pushing to his feet.
Ackroyd jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the screen of the microscope. "What more proof do you want?"
"We don't know if he's done anything wrong!"
"He had Chrysalis killed!"
The two men were nose to nose, breathing in sharp angry pants.
"I demand evidence of wrong doing." Hiram pounded his fist into his palm.
"That's evidence," Ackroyd howled, pointing again to the screen.
Tachyon shouted, "Stop it! Stop it!", Hiram's hands closed on Tachyon's shoulders. "You go to him. Talk to him. There may be some logical explanation. Think of all the good he's done-"
"Oh, yeah." Sarcasm lay like acid on the words. Ackroyd took another long pull at the flask.
"Think of what we stand to lose," Hiram cried.
"So he'll just lie to Tachyon. Where the hell does that get us?"
"He cannot lie to me." Hiram's hands dropped from his shoulders, and the big ace fell back a step. Tach drew himself up to his full, if inconsequential, height. Dignity and command wrapped like a cloak about him. "If I go to him, you know what I will do." Hiram's eyes were filled with dumb misery, but he nodded slowly. "Will you accept the truth of what I read in his mind?"
"Yes."
"Even though it is inadmissible in a court of law?"
"Yes. "
The alien whirled on Jay. "As for you, Mr. Ackroyd, take the jacket. Destroy it."
"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."
"But he killed Chrysalis, and if we don't nail him Elmo takes the fall."
Tachyon dragged his fingers through his hair, nails digging deep into his scalp. "Damn you, damn you, damn you." "Look, it's not my fault. 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 turned off the microscope with a vicious jab, carried the slide to the basin and washed the blood-stained fibers down the drain.
Hiram fell into step next to him as the alien headed for the door. Tach laid a hand on his chest.
"No, Hiram. I must do this alone."
"And if he's got Buzz Saw Boy, waiting for you?" asked Jay. "That is the risk I must take."
7:00 P.M.
Spector thumbed the plastic SPECIAL VISITORS badge on his lapel and laughed quietly to himself. Earlier in the week, he would have killed until he was waist deep in bodies to get one of these. Now, he didn't need it anymore. Life was fucking like that.