Wild Cards_ Jokers Wild Part 23

"What in the world makes you say that?"

She shrugged slim shoulders. "I just know you wouldn't."

He stared at her a moment longer, but she wouldn't drop her gaze. He growled something inarticulate like an irate bear, and then said in an angry voice, "Brennan."

Jennifer nodded, obscurely relieved that she had been correct. Not that she had really been in danger. Her powers had certainly rejuvenated by now, and if he had attacked her all he would have had to do was ghost.

"Good," she said. "The books are with Dr. Tachyon."

"Tachyon?" Brennan asked in obvious astonishment.

"Actually," she smiled, "in his wax figure in the Bowery Dime Museum."

"Not a bad hiding place," Brennan said after a moment of reflection. "Kien's men are still looking for you-once Wyrm tastes a scent he can follow it anywhere, as long as traces of it remain on his tongue-so I'll take you to a safe place and then go after the books. I'll keep the diary, you can have the others."

"I'll go with you-"

"No." The word was as hard and sharp as the edge of a guillotine blade. Jennifer knew there'd be no arguing with him about this.

"Well, if you're going to take me someplace, make it a place with food. I feel like I haven't eaten in a week."

Brennan thought for a moment, then nodded. He reached into a back pocket of his jeans and took out a playing card, an ace of spades, borrowed a pen from Father Squid's desk, and scrawled a note on the face of the card. He put the pen back and pa.s.sed the card to Jennifer.

"Hiram Worchester is throwing an aces-only party in his restaurant, Aces High. You should be safe there and there'll also be plenty to eat. You've heard of Fortunato?" Jennifer nodded. "Give this to him."

Jennifer glanced at the note he'd written on the card. It was short and to the point: Watch Watch over over her. her. Y. Y. She looked up at Brennan, respect in her eyes. She'd heard a little about the shadowy ace, Fortunato. Not much, as he wasn't one to seek publicity, but the fact that Brennan was on personal terms with him was an interesting development. She wondered if he were an ace himself, and what ability the virus had given him. She looked up at Brennan, respect in her eyes. She'd heard a little about the shadowy ace, Fortunato. Not much, as he wasn't one to seek publicity, but the fact that Brennan was on personal terms with him was an interesting development. She wondered if he were an ace himself, and what ability the virus had given him.

"Or Tachyon, if Fortunato's not there. Whatever you do, though, stay away from Captain Trips-the tall, skinny hippie-and the dancer known as Fantasy. I'm not sure about them. Not sure at all."

She pondered his advice for a moment, then nodded. If she was to trust him, she'd trust him all the way.

"I don't want to be a bother, but could we stop for some clothes? I'd hate to go to Aces High dressed like this."

"The father told me about the state of your, um, dress." He reached down into the case on the floor by his feet and took out a bundle of clothes. "I hope they fit." He looked at her critically. "You're taller than I first thought."

He studiously looked all about the office while Jennifer stood, pulled the sweats.h.i.+rt off, and got into a pair of jeans and a dark pullover sweater. She put on the socks Brennan had brought her and looked up from lacing the running shoes to see him gazing at her intently. There was also a mask among the clothing. She stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans and stood up. The s.h.i.+rt and shoes fit fine, though the jeans were a little short and hugged her slim figure tightly. She folded the sweats.h.i.+rt neatly and left it on the priest's desk with a short explicatory note.

"Right." Brennan stood and hefted his case. "First stop, Empire State Building." He smiled in satisfaction. "If you're not going to be safe in a room full of aces you wouldn't be safe anywhere."

Upstairs in his mother's brownstone, in the comfortable luxury of the upper West Side, Fortunato closed his eyes. Miranda straightened his black tie with skillful fingers. She was in her late forties now, heavier than she should have been if she was still a geisha, wearing tailored Chanel instead of low-cut ready-to-wear. She'd become his mother's business manager ten years ago and hadn't turned a trick since.

"You look bad," she said. "Is Veronica not working out?"

"No," Fortunato said. "I don't think she's going to make it."

"I never understood her. All she wants is to be married and have kids and put them in day-care, to have a husband she never sees, to have servants and cars and money. I keep asking myself what I did wrong."

"It's not you. It's the whole country. Greed is very chic these days."

She touched his lips and the skin tingled. "You're very tired."

"Exhausted."

"I used to know the cure for that." She was standing very close. He could smell her perfume and the sweetness of her skin. She read the willingness in his face and said, "Lie down."

He stretched out across the bed. She took off her jacket and skirt. Fortunato reached for his tie and she said, "Don't move."

She took the rest of her clothes off. She was still graceful enough to get out of her panty hose without breaking the mood. Her bra had left lines around her chest and over her shoulders and there was dark stubble under her arms.

She got onto the bed and straddled Fortunato and began to touch herself. She started with her forehead and let her fingers trickle down her cheeks and back up to where her ears met her jawline. Goose b.u.mps came up on her neck. She swayed forward until her full, sagging b.r.e.a.s.t.s were inches from his face. He leaned up to kiss them and she pulled away. "No," she said. "I told you to hold still."

She brushed her broad, dark nipples with her fingertips until they tightened and thrust out at him. Then she brushed lightly over her belly and buried her left hand in her pubic hair. With her right she touched Fortunato's lips again. He licked her fingers and arched his back.

She moved up the bed on her knees and lowered herself onto his mouth. "Gently," she said. "It's been a long time."

As he licked and probed with his tongue she gradually began to melt and open to him. She took hold of the bra.s.s railing of the bed and slowly moved against him, her breath coming faster, her heavy thighs pressing against the sides of his head.

Then her body stiffened and she let out a tiny, hoa.r.s.e scream and he drank the power from her, hungrily, gratefully. He felt it tingling through his body and hardly noticed as she bent to kiss him lightly on the mouth. "You taste like me," she said. "Take care, Fortunato."

She picked up her clothes and was gone.

Fortunato came downstairs to find a circle of beautiful women around the couch in the sitting room. In the middle sat a tall, striking girl in jeans and a long-sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt.

"Ichiko," Fortunato said, using his mother's geisha name. "What's the deal?"

"Ellroy found her in Jokertown," Ichiko said. Like Miranda, she'd put on weight in the last ten years. She was tall anyway, and now she looked positively Anglo-Saxon. She wore a black cotton sweater and skirt with a red-and-black silk blouse. The top three b.u.t.tons were undone. She moved across the room to Fortunato without sound or visible effort. "She was coming out of the Church of Jesus Christ Joker and looked like she was about to get in trouble with one of Gambione's scouts. Ellroy offered her a ride." She shrugged. "Here she is."

"She's beautiful."

"Yes," Ichiko said. "She is."

"Okay," Fortunato said to the others. "Break it up. Don't you ladies have places you're supposed to be?" They moved off, one at a time, Caroline stopping to slip one arm around his waist as she pa.s.sed. Then he was alone with her. "I'm Fortunato," he said.

"Cordelia." She didn't stand up, but held her hand out to him. Fortunato took it for a second and then sat down next to her. "I appreciate the rescue," she said. Her voice was deep, a little breathless, very Southern. s.e.xy.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Ellroy told me a little. He said there were no obligations, but I could hang around for an interview if I wanted."

"And?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

She was flirtatious, but she seemed terribly young. "I'll have to ask you some personal kind of things."

"Like am I a virgin, you mean?"

"For instance."

"No. I had a regular boyfriend back in Atelier Parish. And-well, you know what they say about virgins from Louisiana. They're just the girls without any close male kin." She laughed but Fortunato didn't.

"We need to talk some more," he said. "Do you have dinner plans?"

" 'Dinner plans?' Not hardly! But from the way you're dressed I can't see myself going anywhere with you."

Fortunato looked at his watch. "We can find you some thing here to wear. How soon could you be ready?"

CHAPTER 14.

7:00 p.m. p.m.

When his barber finished tr.i.m.m.i.n.g his beard and swept away the ap.r.o.n, Hiram Worchester rose majestically from his chair, shrugged into a perfectly-tailored tuxedo jacket, and surveyed himself in the mirror. His s.h.i.+rt was silk, of the deepest, purest blue. His accessories were all silver. Blue and silver were the Aces High colors. "Very good, Henry," Hiram said. He tipped the barber handsomely.

Curtis waited just outside his office door. Beyond, his restaurant was ready. Waiters and bartenders stood at their stations. Kelvin Frost's astonis.h.i.+ng ice sculptures had been moved out onto the floor, each one surrounded by a moat of crushed ice dotted with bottles of Dom Perignon. Tables of hot and cold hors d'oeuvres were scattered throughout the restaurant, to keep the guests from clumping. The musicians stood poised by their instruments. Overhead, the glittering art-deco chandeliers shone softly. The beginnings of a magnificent red-gold sunset were visible to the west.

Hiram smiled, "Open the doors," he told Curtis.

A dozen people were already waiting in the foyer when the doors were opened. Hiram bowed to the women and kissed their hands, gave each man a firm handshake, performed the necessary introductions, and pointed them all toward the bar. The early birds tended to be obscure minor aces, insecure of their status and excited by Hiram's invitation. A few, only recently out of the deck, had never been to Aces High before, but Hiram treated them all like long-lost friends. The major aces tended to be fas.h.i.+onably late.

The first uninvited guest was a tall blond college student who looked uncomfortable in his rented dinner jacket. "What do I have to do to get in, guess your weight?" he asked when Curtis called Hiram over to pa.s.s on his admission.

"No," Hiram said, smiling. "That got a bit old, I'm afraid. But I see you've read your Wild Wild Card Card Chic Chic."

"You bet. So what does it take to get in?"

"Show me proof that you've got an ace power," Hiram said.

"Right here?" The boy looked around uneasily.

"Is there a problem? What is your power, if I might be so bold?"

The boy cleared his throat. "It's kind of hard to-"

His date giggled. "He gets itsy-bitsy," she announced in a loud, clear voice.

The college boy turned a bright shade of red. "Yeah, uh, I compress the molecules of my body, I guess, to make myself smaller. I can, uh, shrink down till I'm six inches tall." He tried keeping his voice low, but it had gotten very quiet. "My ma.s.s stays the same," he added defensively.

"That's some power, kid," Wallace Larabee opined loudly from the buffet, where he stood holding a tiny buck-wheat pancake that sagged dangerously under the weight of the caviar he'd piled atop it. "Whooeee, I'm sure scared."

Hiram wouldn't have thought it possible for the boy to turn a deeper red, but he did. "Don't mind Wallace," Hiram said. "He nearly ruined our 1978 get-together when he demonstrated his his power, and he knows I'll throw him out if he ever does it again. They call him the Human Skunk." power, and he knows I'll throw him out if he ever does it again. They call him the Human Skunk."

There was general laughter, Larabee turned away to load up another pancake, and the boy seemed a bit less mortified. "Well," he said, "the only thing is, when I do it, I, uh, well, it's like this, I shrink, but my clothes don't."

Hiram understood. "Curtis," he said, "take him back to my office, and see if he can do what he claims."

Curtis smiled. "This way, please."

When they reemerged a few moments later, the maitre d' gave a slight nod, the a.s.sembled guests broke into applause, and the boy turned red again. "Welcome to Aces High," Hiram said. "I didn't catch your name."

"Frank Beaumont," the college boy replied.

"But I call him Itsy-Bitsy," his girlfriend volunteered.

"Gretchen!" Frank hissed. Frank hissed.

"You have my word, I'll take that secret to my grave," Hiram promised. He caught the eye of a pa.s.sing waiter. "Soft drinks, or are you old enough to enjoy some champagne?" he asked Frank and Gretchen. "Please remember, the room is full of telepaths."

They settled for soft drinks.

The street in front of the Empire State Building's Fifth Avenue entrance was a madhouse. Paparazzi and celebrity watchers and ace groupies formed a milling gauntlet that scrutinized anyone who tried to enter. Jennifer and Brennan watched from across the street as limos pulled up to the red carpet that had been rolled out from the building's foyer to the curb and ace after ace was greeted by popping flash-bulbs and squeals of delight.

Peregrine arrived in her chauffeured Rolls. She wore a backless, strapless black velvet dress that was slit in the front to her navel. She smiled graciously at the milling crowd, but kept her wings curled closely to her body, having dealt with feather-s.n.a.t.c.hing souvenir seekers in the past. Tachyon arrived in a limo. His companion was a gorgeous black woman who wore a gown almost as low cut as Peregrine's.

"I'll have to leave you here," Brennan said as a cab pulled up and deposited a man in a white skintight suit.

"Be careful," Jennifer said.

Brennan smiled. "It'll be a piece of cake. Remember, stay away from Fantasy and Captain Trips. They may be in Kien's pocket."

Jennifer nodded.

"One more thing. I can't imagine anything dangerous happening in there, but, just in case something goes wrong and you have to leave, I want to set up a meeting place so we don't have to chase each other all over the city again." Brennan thought for a moment. "Times Square, the corner of 43rd and Seventh."

"Fine," Jennifer said. She wanted to warn him to be careful again, but that was silly. Things were under control, and the adventure was almost over. She felt, she realized, a little regret mixed in with her relief.

Brennan lifted a hand in salute and she waved. She watched him fade silently into the shadows, then put on her mask, turned, and crossed the street.

"Have you heard about the Turtle?" Hiram asked, almost the second Fortunato came through the door.

"Not since this afternoon. Have they found the sh.e.l.l yet?"

Hiram shook his head. "Nothing. I still can't believe it. It's-" He suddenly noticed Cordelia. She'd cleaned up nicely and Ichiko had found her something white and clinging. "My dear. Please excuse my rudeness. I'm Hiram Worchester, proprietor of this establishment."

"Cordelia," Fortunato said. Hiram bent over her hand. Fortunato waited him out. "What about Jane? Is she all right?"

Hiram pointed to the bar. "She hasn't been out of my sight all afternoon. His either," he added, pointing to the android next to her.