Ernie pointed to the envelope. "You got something else for me?"
Jerry handed it over. "There's some old blueprints. I don't even know if they're New York. I thought maybe you could tell me what building they go to."
Ernie slid the photographs out and pursed his lips. "Might be Manhattan. Hard to say. You need this in a hurry?"
"Well, if you don't find out before Halloween, it probably won't matter."
Ernie tossed the blueprints into his desk drawer. "That's less than a week. I'll see what I can manage in my copious free time. No promises."
"Great. I'll get you into a couple of Knicks games, regardless." Jerry stood and fished in his pocket for an agency business card. "Oh, and if you can't get in touch with me at home, call this number and leave a message for Mr. Creighton."
Ernie's phone buzzed. He gave Jerry an "OK" sign and snatched up the receiver. "Swartz."
Jerry nodded and left.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Ezili was standing by the door when he stepped in. "Mr. Ackroyd wants to see you first thing. You should make time for me later."
Jerry smiled at the thought. "Sounds good. I'll let you know."
She returned the smile and walked slowly back to her desk, rolling her hips just enough to remind him what it was like to be with her. Not that he needed reminding.
Jay had his feet propped up on the desk, and was staring out the window. "I kind of miss the neon 'live nude girls' sign." He turned to Jerry. "Not that I'm against being more upscale. There's just too little neon in the world."
"Right. Now I know what to get you for Christmas. You wanted to see me?"
Jay walked over and slapped Jerry on the back, hard. Jerry tensed his shoulders, but managed not to scream. "I like you, Jerry. You know that."
"I appreciate that. I like you, too."
"So, it would be very depressing if you got yourself killed." Jay eased into his desk chair. "I know you're working on something right now. I know it's dangerous and probably has something to do with Battle."
"Hold it." Jerry lifted a hand. "If I am involved in something a little risky, and I'm not saying I am, then there's a damned good reason. And for Christ's sake, Jay, I'm not just a stooge out there. I can handle myself."
Jay rubbed his forehead. "You're just not getting the message here. It takes years to develop the instincts and techniques to be a good private investigator. I'm still learning, myself."
Jerry started taking deep, measured breaths. He didn't want to start yelling, that would only reinforce Jay's argument. "You're just going to have to trust me on this one. It's important."
Jay slowly formed his hand into the familiar gun-shape, then pointed it at Jerry. "I should send you to Takis, to worry Tachyon's ass."
"Yeah. I could change to look like you, go home and fuck your wife." Jerry leaned onto Jay's desktop. "But I'm no more going to do that, than you're going to send me to Takis."
Jay looked Jerry in the eye. "Don't bet on it. The only person I know as stubborn as Tachyon is you. Don't force my hand on this, I've got a business to run."
"We've got a business to run." Jerry walked to the door. "There are two names on the glass outside. Don't forget it." He shut the door and stalked put of the office.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
It was Halloween, a little after three in the afternoon. The coffee shop at the George Washington was nearly deserted. Jerry remembered a time when the place was a real dive, but they'd done a few renovations, even put in color TV. It was a weird place for Battle to be staying, but that only made Jerry more certain something was up.
Tracking Battle down had been easier than he figured. He'd called George G.'s office using Peter Jennings' voice, said the network was considering doing a special on the last days of the Rox. Battle's secretary had started gushing as soon as she heard his accent. She explained that he was out of town at the moment, but gave Jerry/Jennings a phone number where he could be reached. Jerry tapped into the phone system and fed it the number, out came the George Washington Hotel on Lexington Avenue.
His motorcycle was parked outside. He'd enjoyed riding one so much, he'd bought one. It was an old Triumph, black and almost too heavy. He'd picked it up under an assumed name, of course.
Jerry's look today was somewhere between James Dean and Nicholas Cage. His dark hair was slicked back and his eyes were bright with too much caffeine. He'd made a couple of lightning fast trips to the men's room earlier, but was sure Battle hadn't gotten out past him. Jerry didn't really expect anything to go down until evening anyway, but better safe than sorry. He eased back and ordered another cheese Danish.
Battle went past when Jerry was in mid-bite. His quarry was wearing a gray overcoat and tan pants. He seemed to be alone. Jerry tossed a twenty onto the countertop and headed for the street. Battle was getting into an old silver van when Jerry hit the door. Jerry trotted down to his Triumph and kicked it to life.
The van was halfway down the block when Jerry pulled out. He accelerated around a bus. The van was about five cars ahead of him and one lane over. They stayed on Lexington through Gramercy Park and then over to Park Avenue South. Jerry maintained his distance and tried not to get directly behind the van.
He heard sirens to his right, heading his way. The light at Fourteenth Street turned amber and the van charged through the intersection. Jerry gunned it, slicing between the lanes of slowing autos. He was into the intersection when the police car flashed in front of him. Jerry braked and twisted the handlebars to the right. The tires went out from under him, and the bike skidded sideways across the rest of Fourteenth Street and onto the sidewalk. Jerry struggled to right the bike as passers-by began to form around him. The cop car was long gone.
"I'm okay," he said. It was more or less true. His right leg was a little torn up, but there were no broken bones. "Just get out of my way."
Jerry bounced his bike off the curb and onto the street, headed south. He thought he glimpsed a silver car top ahead and began weaving through the traffic, closing in. A couple of blocks later, he caught up. It was a silver van alright, but it belonged to a florist shop. A light turned red ahead. Jerry slowed the bike to a stop. He rubbed his right thigh, which was beginning to throb. It hurt almost as much as his pride.
He'd lost them.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
He'd gone back to the George Washington in the hope that Battle would show up, but that hadn't worked. Jerry's instincts were right about that. At this moment Battle was doing something that could affect wild cards everywhere, and Jerry couldn't raise a finger to stop him. Jay was right; he wasn't good enough yet.
He put on his Creighton face and went back to the office. There was a bottle of Jack Black and a Gameboy in his desk. Right now that was the only company he wanted.
She was sitting behind the desk, filing her nails, when he walked in. Ezili looked up and nodded. "I thought you'd be coming back here."
Jerry shook his head. "I'm tired, Ezili. So tired even the prospect of sex with you couldn't pep me up. If tomorrow night's okay with you, I'll be more than happy to do whatever you want."
Ezili smiled. "I didn't stay for that reason. A man called. A Mr. Swartz. He said he identified the blueprints you left him."
Jerry's brain was slow in taking the information in. He thought for a second then straightened. "What? What did he say it was?"
"The Jokertown Clinic."
Jerry bent down and kissed Ezili, a kiss of gratitude, not passion. "Thanks. You may have saved my career as a detective. If I'm still alive tomorrow, I'll try to get you another raise."
"Your energy has come back, I see. Save some for me tomorrow." She moistened her lips. "No good deed should go unpunished."
"It won't." Jerry dashed from the office, the pain in his leg forgotten. Maybe his luck was changing. He'd know soon enough.