At least neither of them had been Chalktalk.
Shelley showed up a few minutes later, looking as if she'd been through a lot.
Shad reached for the phone. "Hello?"
"This is the front desk."
"Oh. Hi. Front desk, right."
"Say that yes, you want to stay another day."
"Yes. I want to stay another day."
"You still want to pay cash."
" I still want to pay cash."
"You'll have to come down and do it in person."
"I'll be down in a few minutes."
He met her at the elevator and pushed the emergency stop button to halt it between floors.
"I thought you were going to have a new body," he said. "Yes. They've promised me one." She licked her pendulous lips. "The thing is, I get to pick."
"Oh."
"They've got a catalog. Just like L. L. Bean."
"Tell me what happened."
" I got jumped again. They put a bag over my head. They drove around for a while, then took me into a little room. It was fitted out like a prison cell-metal walls, a heavy door with big locks and a barred window. There was mesh overhead and a guy with a gun walking around."
"Okay."
"There were other cells. I could hear people talking. Some were crying and screaming." She gave a strange little smile. "I didn't care. It was wonderful. I was human again. Young! And beautiful. They showed me my face in a mirror. I was gorgeous."
"Who showed you?"
"Two kids. Boys, maybe fifteen. Zits, but real good clothes. Rolexes, jewelry. The gold chains must have cost fifty grand. And there was a joker." She gave an expression of distaste. "Brown, with a carapace. Looked like a cockroach."
"Did they call him Kafka?"
"Yeah." She pulled her wrinkles back and looked at him. "How'd you know?"
"He was around a few years ago. I knew him slightly when I joined the Egyptian Masons."
Her eyes widened. "The Egyptian Masons? You mean the-the ones who="
"Yeah. Those guys. I'd only just joined, then somebody blew up their temple with me in it. I barely got out, and I didn't know there were any other survivors until they started trying to toss people off Aces High."
She looked at him, her lips twitching in what might, under the wrinkles, be a smile. "You are Black Shadow, aren't you?"
"My name's Simon." "Uh-huh. Sure."
"So what happened in this cell?"
"Somebody else came in. Dr. Tachyon."
Shad's mind whirled. He forced himself to speak. "You sure?"
"Who wouldn't recognize Tachyon?" She gave a shiver. "Jesus, I never expected that. I was scared he'd read my mind or something and figure I knew you."
Maybe he did, Shad thought. "Did you see a one-eyed woman?"
"No. Why?"
"Never mind. Just tell me what happened."
"Tachyon made a speech. About joker rights. Now I had a chance to experience life as a member of the oppressed, and so naturally I'd want to join him in his great work." "And the great work?"
She shrugged. "They're jumping the rich. If I agree to do what they want, I get jumped into a new body. I clean out the bank accounts and the family silver. Half goes to Tachyon and the jumpers, and the other half I get to keep to set up a new life somewhere. Unless-" she hesitated, "I decide to do it again. And again. He made that offer. I build up a nice nest egg, then they jump me into whatever body I choose when I want to retire."
"What did you say?"
"I said I'd have to consider it."
"What are you going to do?"
She looked at him. "What do you want me to do?"
"It's your call. I'm not going to make you do anything." She took a breath. " I hate this body. I don't want to hurt anyone else by jumping somebody into it. But"-she shook her head-"I have to think about it."
"This thing gets settled, maybe we can put the victims into new bodies."
Why had he said that? he wondered. He didn't really believe it. He wanted Shelley back. That's why.
He made himself think about Tachyon.
"It'll take a few days," she said. " I have to familiarize myself with the target out of the catalog, know what moves to make. I stay in the cell the whole time."
She'd made up her mind, he realized. The thing was going to happen.
He remembered an old film he'd seen, The Third Man. Orson Welles had taken Joseph Cotten up on a Ferris wheel, pointed at all the tiny little people below, and said, "If you could have a million dollars, but one of those little people dies, would you do it?"
Some stranger, some little antlike speck below the Ferris wheel, was going to end up in a dog's body and have her bank account plundered.
"When you're free of them, call me," he said. "The number is 741-PINE. P-1-N-E. There will be an answering machine. Leave a message where I can find you."
"Okay."
"The number?"
"741-PINE."
"Good."
He started the elevator again and got off two floors down.
He had things to do.
Shad decided it was time to find out a few things about Tachyon. He had to start somewhere, and where he ended up was the public library and the back-issue newspaper files. The responsible papers were too discreet about what they knew to be of much use, but the tabloid made a lot more of it all.
TACHYON QUITS! BROKEN HEART CITED. That was the headline on the Post. Shad looked at the inevitable pinup on page 3: "Happy Holly" was said to like "professional wrestling, baby ducks, and naughty nighties for that Someone Special," a strange summation that had Shad picturing her displaying herself for a slavering Haystack Calhoun in a frilly negligee with little yellow ducks on it.
Then he turned to the article on Tachyon. Dr. Tachyon, it said, had resigned his position at the Jokertown Clinic. "Intimates," the article said, reported that Tachyon was frantic about the disappearance of his "one-eyed Jill," Cody Havero, and had been unable to concentrate on work. There was a strong implication that he'd been spending his days in an alcoholic coma. Dr. Finn, whom Shad knew both as Wall Walker and Mr. Gravemold, hinted gently at Tachyon's breakdown and also praised Blaise Andrieux, Tachyon's grandson, who had been a "tower of strength in this ordeal." Which didn't much sound like the Blaise that Shad had heard about, but maybe the kid had grown up some.
There was also a lengthy rehash of Tachyon's history, concentrating on his "drunken peregrinations" following the death of Blythe van Rensselaer. There was also a description of Dr. Havero's "controversial career," along with more speculation to the effect that Cody had been assassinated by a CIA conspiracy anxious to cover up something they'd done in Vietnam. The paper hadn't found anyone reputable to report this last, which came from a "professional psychic known to the police." I'll just bet she's known, Shad thought.
Shad narrowed his eyes and looked at Cody Havero's picture. The scarred, one-eyed face looked interesting. Maybe she was someone he ought to concern himself about. He could put money out on the street, maybe hear something that the police and FBI hadn't.
He spent the rest of the day doing just that and came up with zip.
"I've been trying to sleep," Croyd said. "But it's no good. I'll probably be awake a couple days at least before I can drift off."
"I could use a flyer around that warehouse. I want to track who goes in and out."
Croyd gave a peculiar nasal sigh. "Come by and bring more bugs. We'll talk about it."
"Yo. Homeboy."
"Homes here."
"New arrivals at the warehouse. Three people in a limousine. One of them's a lady with a bald head. Then there's a bodyguard and-you're not gonna believe this."
Shad, whose feet were planted to the vertical surface outside Tachyon's window, was at this point prepared to believe anything. "Try me."