"Do you trust Tachyon?"
"The alien? I don't know him. Gimli doesn't seem to like him. But I will trust him if you do."
"I have to be in New York later this week. Meet me in front of the Jokertown Clinic Thursday evening at six-thirty. Bring the jacket. We'll have Tachyon examine it, and then we'll see. We'll see, that's all. Is it enough?"
Misha almost gasped with the relief. She wanted to laugh, wanted to hug Sara and cry with her. But she only nodded. "I'll be there. I promise you, Sara. I want the truth, that's all."
"And if Tachyon says it proves nothing?"
"Then I'll learn to accept the guilt for what I did myself," Misha started to turn the knob, stopped. "If I'm not there, know that it's because he stopped me. You'll have to decide what to do then."
"Which gives you a convenient out," Sara said derisively. "All you have to do is not show."
"You don't believe that. Do you?" Silence.
Misha turned the knob and went out.
Tuesday, 10:00 P.M.
Chrysalis swung open the door to her office. She paid very little attention to the dwarf who sat in her chair, his bare feet propped up on her desk. She shut the door-the sounds of another busy night at the Crystal Palace dropped to a distant tidal soughing. "Good evening, Gimli."
Gimli was feeling rotten. The lack of surprise in Chrysalis's startling eyes only made him feel worse. " I should learn that you're never caught off guard."
She gave him a tight-lipped smile that floated over a webbing of muscles and tendons. "I've known you were back for weeks. That's old news. So how's your cold?"
289
Gimli sniffed, a long, wet inhalation. Another chill rattled down his spine like a tray of ice cubes. "Shitty. I feel like hell. I've had a fever I haven t been able to kick for two days now. And I've evidently got somebody in my. organization who can't keep his or her mouth shut." He gave her a rueful grimace.
"You wouldn't get colds if you'd wear shoes. You brought me a package, too."
"Fuck," Gimli spat out. He swung his legs down and hopped from the chair with a grimace. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and he steadied himself against the desk with a hand. "I might as well have come in the front door. Why don't we just skip the conversation entirely and you just give me an answer?"
"I really don't know the question yet, for certain." Her laugh was short and dry. "There are some limits after all, and I've been concerned about more immediate things than politics recently. It's not safe out there for any joker, not just you. But I can make an educated guess," Chrysalis continued. "I'd say that your visit concerns Senator Hartmann."
Gimli snorted. "Shit, after the fuckup in Berlin that doesn't take much of a guess."
"You're the one who's impressed by what I know, not me. You're the one who has to hole up near the East River so the feds don't snatch him."
"I've got a big goddamn leak." He shook his head. Gimli lurched around the side of the desk and hauled himself into her chair again. He closed his eyes for a second. When you get back, you can go to bed again. Maybe this time when you wake up it'll be gone. "God, I do feel like crap."
"Nothing infectious, I hope."
"We've both already had the worst fucking infection we're ever like to get." Gimli glanced at Chrysalis with a sidelong, bloodshot stare. "And speaking of which, I suppose you already know that our Senator Hartmann's a goddamn ace?"
"Really?"
Gimli scoffed. "There are things I know too, lady. One of them is that Downs has been asking odd questions, and that you've been seeing a lot of each other. My guess is that you're thinking the same thing."
"And if I am? Even granting that you're correct-and I'm not-why should you care about it? Maybe an ace president would be good. A lot of people feel Hartmann's done more for the jokers than the JJS."
Gimli shot to his feet at that, his illness forgotten. Rage eroded deep canyons in his pudgy face. "The goddamn JJS was the only organization that told the fucking nats that they can't jerk us jokers around. We didn't stand there holding our hats in our trunks like old kiss-ass Des. The JJS made 'em pay attention, even if we had to do it by beating them in the face. I'm not going to listen to crap about Hartmann being better than the jJS."
"Then I suggest you leave."
"If I do, then you don't see the fucking package."
He could see Chrysalis considering that, and he smiled, the anger quickly forgotten. Yeah, you're hungry for that. Old Chrysalis's just playing it cool. I knew she'd want to see it. And fuck Misha if she doesn't like it.
"You've never been one to be free with things, Gimli. What's the payment for the package?"
"You go public with this. You spill it with the rest of what I've got for you, along with anything you and Downs have dug up. We take Hartmann out of the race."
"Why? Because he's an ace? Or because it's Gimli's personal little vendetta?"
Gimli gritted his teeth and then destroyed the image with a sneeze. "Because he's a power-hungry bastard. He's just like the rest of the money-grubbing, self-centered bureaucrats in government, only he's got his ace to help him. He's dangerous."
"You get rid of Hartmann, and the next president might be Leo Barnett."
"Shit." Gimli spat; Chrysalis looked at the globule on her rug in dismay. "He might get the nomination, but that's not the presidency. Barnett's just a nat; he can be removed if he has to be. With Barnett we at least know what to expect. Hartmann's a fucking unknown. You don't know what he's got or what he's going to do with it."
"Like maybe make a few things right."
"Like maybe make things worse. This ain't for me; this is for the jokers. Look at the damn facts you prize so much. What Hartmann touches gets destroyed. He uses people. Chews 'em up and spits out the carcass when the flavor's gone. He used me, he used the Nur's sister, he fucked with the minds of the people around me in Berlin. He's a goddamn bottle of nitro. God knows what else he's done."
He paused, waiting for her to object, but she didn't. Gimli pulled a wad of tissues from his pocket, blew his nose, and grinned at her. "And 'you suspect the same thing," he continued. "I fucking know it, 'cause you wouldn't have stood there and listened to me for this long if you thought otherwise. You want my little package because it might prove it true."
"Proof is a nebulous thing. Look at Gary Hart. No one needed `proof' with him, just a lack of denial."
"There is proof with the wild card. In the blood. And I've got Hartmann's blood." Gimli brought out Misha's jacket. As he spread the bloodstained cloth on Chrysalis's desk, he gave her the story. When he'd finished, a faint flush had appeared in Chrysalis's transparent skin, the lacework of blood vessels spreading and widening in excitement. Gimli laughed even though his head pounded from the fever.
"It's yours, free," he told her. A coughing fit took him, deep hacking spasms, and he waited until they'd passed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "You know me, Chrysalis. I might do a lot of things, but I don't lie. When I tell you that's Hartmann's blood, it's the truth. But it ain't enough, not without more. You just have to do something with it. Interested?"
She took the cloth between her fingers, touching the bloodstains tentatively. "Let me keep it," she said. "I want a friend to run the tests-it might take a few days. If the stains are from an ace, then yes, we might have a deal."
"I thought so," Gimli. said. "Which means you have more on Hartmann, don't you? Take good care of the jacket. I'll check with you later. Right now, I'm going to go home and fucking die."
Tuesday, 11:45 P.M.