"So why didn't you go public?" Jay asked.
Downs looked unhappy. He got up off the stapler, stuck his hands in his pants pockets, paced restlessly around the pizza, then glared up at Jay. "Okay, okay, we got too fucking smart for our own good. The thing that Gimli didn't realize was that Chrysalis had her own priorities. She didn't want to destroy Hartmann, she just liked the idea of maybe having a little leverage over our next president. And me, I got to thinking, too. I mean, I write the story, it's a big sensation, maybe I win a Pulitzer, but a year from now, who cares? Maybe there was a better way. Presidents need press secretaries, right? I could do that, get a little respect. I wouldn't have Tachyon pouring drinks over my head or irate boyfriends punching me in the mouth. I might even get a decent table at Aces High." He sighed. "You got to remember, we knew Hartmann was an ace, we even guessed he had some kind of hinky mind control, but that was it. So maybe he made Kahina slice her brother's throat from ear to ear that day in Syria, so what? Better his neck than mine, right? And the Nur was going to off all of us."
"So you thought Hartmann was a good guy," Jay prompted. Downs nodded. "We set up a meeting, he said gloomily. He looked off into the distance, toward Oral Amy, remembering. "We thought we had the situation under control. We were wrong." His voice had gotten very somber. Oh, man, were we wrong," he said. "That was when Gregg and Mackie Messer put on their little show. Hartmann knew everything, don't ask me how. The hunchback delivered Kahina in a tarp, naked, covered with blood. He told us how he'd already raped her in the ass, and he went to work on her, humming `Mack the Knife' the whole time. When he was done, he walked out through a wall." Even talking about it made Downs go shaky.
"If Hartmann's everything you say, why didn't he have his killer eliminate you and Chrysalis right then?"
"Well, he didn't want two more deaths to explain. Instead he put us in charge of the cover-up. He told Chrysalis to get rid of the body and warned me that if anything appeared in the press even hinting that he was an ace, Mackie would come for me."
"And you went along with this shit?" Jay could maybe believe it of Digger, but Chrysalis hated being told what to do. He couldn't imagine her being easy to intimidate.
"You weren't therel" Digger snapped. "Hartmann's little leather boy walks through walls, man] I checked up on him afterward. He's German, part of the gang who grabbed Hartmann in Berlin, but somehow Gregg turned him around and made a house pet of him. Five'll getcha ten he's the one made sushi of the other kidnappers. Interpol's still hunting his twisted little ass."
"Then why not tell the cops?"
Digger laughed bitterly. "Oh, yeah. Go tell them that the former chairman of SCARE is in league with the terrorist who helped kidnap him, right. And pray that word don't leak to Gregg. Except it always does, somehow. Either he's a mind reader or he's got one working for him, I don't know. The point is, we couldn't trust no one. Chrysalis had some idea about getting Yeoman to help us out, but she was never able to get in touch with him. So we just played along and stayed alive."
"Until Monday," Jay said. "The name George Kerby mean anything to you?"
Downs shook his head. "She wasn't talking to anybody near the end. I don't even think she trusted me."
It made sense, Jay thought. The fewer people who knew, the fewer people who could betray her. But if Digger was telling the truth, someone had betrayed her anyway. And fast-she'd barely set her plan in motion and she'd been lying dead on her office floor. Hartmann, if that was who it was, didn't waste any time. "What about the jacket?" Jay asked.
"The jacket," Digger said. He snapped his fingers. "She kept it. Hidden somewhere. It was her last line of defense, she said. It was like a stalemate. If we went public with all we had, we'd be killed. But Hartmann had to watch out, too. If he left us with nothing to lose, we could use the jacket and bring him down."
"Real good," said Jay. "So where is this jacket?"
"In a safe place," Downs said, with a helpless shrug. "That's all she'd say. I told you, she didn't trust no one. Have you checked her closets?"
"No," said Jay, remembering what Brennan had told him, "but I know someone who has. How much do you know about the Oddity?"
7:00 P.M.
Father Squid was standing in front of Our Lady of Perpetual Misery when Brennan and Jennifer arrived. "You're the last," the priest told them. "If you'll follow me, we can begin the reading while Quasiman guards against unwanted interruptions."
"Fine," Brennan said, "but before we go in, I have a favor to ask of Quasiman. Where is he?"
Father Squid pointed up.
The crippled joker was standing at the top of the steeple, casually leaning against the metal spiral that projected from the base of the spire. He was looking far away at things neither Brennan nor Jennifer nor Father Squid could see.
"Can you get him down?" Brennan asked.
Father Squid shrugged massive shoulders. "I can try." He looked up, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, "Quasiman!"
The joker made no sign that he heard. Father Squid sighed and shouted again, louder. This time Quasiman looked down. He let go of the spiral, waved, and started to slip down the steeply inclined surface of the steeple.
Jennifer gasped, but just as Quasiman slid off into empty space, he disappeared. There was a distinct popping sound, then he was standing next to Brennan and Jennifer on the sidewalk in front of the church.
"Yes?" he said.
Brennan stared at him. for a moment. "I wanted to ask you a favor," he finally said.
"A favor?" Quasiman repeated.
"Yes. You know that I'm trying to find out who killed Chrysalis. Well, I'm having a problem with an ace. An extraordinarily strong ace. I may need your help in handling him."
Quasiman glanced at Father Squid, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "All right."
"Thanks." Brennan held up a small electronic unit, the size and thickness of a folded wallet. "When-if-we need you, we'd be able to call you with this."
Quasiman took the receiver dubiously. "All right." He looked at the unit, his look lengthening into a stare as his mind drifted away to wherever it went when he phased out.
"You know," Father Squid said, "Quasiman is not the most reliable of men."
"He'll have to do. There's no one else to turn to." Brennan didn't mention the other reason he wanted Quasiman to carry the receiver. It was also a sensitive sending unit. He planned to monitor Quasiman to see if he had any contact with someone who might have wanted Chrysalis dead.
"Very well," Father Squid said as Quasiman suddenly returned to normal. "But now, the will."
They went into the church, leaving Quasiman outside on the sidewalk.
The first four rows of pews were filled with people who worked at the Crystal Palace, from Jo-jo the microcephalic joker who swept out the place, to Charles Dutton, the skull-faced man who was Chrysalis's silent partner. Only Elmo and Sascha were missing, Elmo because he was still being held by the police. Joe Jory was also present. As Brennan and Jennifer approached the pew where Jory sat by himself, he knocked back a drink from a silver pocket flask. Brennan couldn't tell if grief was making him drink to excess or the thought of being so close to so many jokers. Either way Brennan found it hard to be sorry for him.
Father Squid settled his immense bulk down behind the table set up before the rail and looked around expectantly as all whispered conversations stopped.