Jack remembered posing as a tourist in there last summer while following one of the Indian diplomats all over town. What a load of bullshit he'd had to suffer through while waiting for Kusum to leave. Tempted to make a detour right now, stop in there this very minute and tell them how to get their act together. First thing he'd have them do was move the big tombstone of the Secretariat, maybe lay it on its side so it didn't block the morning sun when he was walking by, or at the very least cut a hole in its center to let some light through.
Later. Maybe he'd straighten them out this afternoon. Right now he felt too damn good to waste even a second of this beautiful morning on those jerks.
But the flags—all these goddamn flags really bothered him. Rows of flags, blocks of flags, flags everywhere, wasting enough fabric to clothe most of Bangladesh. Reached into his pocket and grabbed his knife. Had a big-time urge to run up to those poles and start cutting the ropes—free the flags!
But no… take too long. Especially with Gia home alone. She was waiting for him, he knew. Jack was sure she could feel his approach, his growing proximity.
Moved on, passing a statue of Saint George killing some stupid-looking dragon on the other side of the fence, and there in the bushes, was that an elephant, a brown elephant? And then it was all blending together and then reversing direction and he felt like he was coming apart, pieces of him floating away, sailing into the air and then curving and boomeranging back to reassemble and fuse into something new and wonderful, the new Jack, King of the City.
After all, wasn't it known as New Jack City?
Energy bloomed in him as he picked up his pace. No matter that it was uphill all the way, he was strong, stronger, strongest. Came to Fifty-fourth and cut east one more block to Sutton Place South where he had a beautiful view of the sparkling East River. God, he loved this city, his city. Hadn't been born here, but that was OK. Meant he wasn't here by some accident of nature but here by choice. He'd come here and made it his own, explored every nook and cranny, knew highborn and low and every sort between. Owned this city, man, and no one was going to tell him any different.
Gia knew that, and that was why she loved him. And he loved her because she knew that.
Wait…
Jack shook his head. Did that make sense?
Sure it did. Of course it did. Wouldn't have thought it if it didn't.
Breaking a light sweat, heavier in the small of his back where the Glock 19 rested in its nylon holster, and more around his ankle where he'd strapped the Semmerling, but he needed those guns, needed them because there were people in his city, not many but always a few, who might try to take the city away from him and make it their own, so he had to be vigilant, ever vigilant.
But not today, no worry about that today, because it was all his today and he felt great. Laughed aloud.
"Top o' da world, Ma!"
Guy coming the other way gave him a strange look but Jack glared at him, daring him to say something, anything, to say one single goddamn word. Guy looked away.
Smart. Nobody gives me looks in my city.
Felt a growing pressure in his groin as he turned into Sutton Square. Something flitted through his head, a thought about looking out for a car, a car with two men, but it was a slippery thought and avoided his grasp every time he reached for it.
Who cared about cars anyway. All he cared about now was getting to Gia. Gia-Gia-Gia. Oh, this was going to be good, so very-very good. Do it in the kitchen, do it in the living room, and maybe even in bed. Dodo-do. All day, and all afternoon until Vicky came home. Then he'd take them both out on the town, his town, and show them a great time, the best time of their lives, the kind of time only he could show them.
Knocked on the door. Couldn't wait to see the joy beaming from Gia's face when she pulled it open and saw him, joy that would quickly turn to lust. And then he heard a child's voice, Vicky's, shouting on the far side of the door…
"Mom! It's Jack! Jack's here!"
And suddenly a cloud moved over his sun and sucked all the heat from his body.
Vicky was home. Gia wouldn't… she'd never… not with Vicky around.
"Jack!" Gia said, her smile bright as she opened the door. "What a surprise!"
"Yeah," he said through his teeth. Tried to force a smile but couldn't, just couldn't. Could do just about anything in this city of his, but right now he couldn't smile. Stepped through the door. "Some surprise."
"Hi, Jack!" Vicky said, looking up at him with a big happy stupid grin.
Ignored her and turned to Gia. "What's she doing home?"
"She's got a sore throat and a cough." Gia's smile was gone and she was looking at him strangely.
"Doesn't look sick."
"Yeah, I got a bad cough," Vicky said. "Wanna hear it?" She started hacking.
Jack wanted to belt her—one backhand swipe to knock her into the next room. She was ruining everything. Maybe he ought to just grab Gia right here and do it in the foyer, right in front of Vicky. Be a good lesson for her.
"Is something wrong, Jack?" Gia said, concern growing in her eyes as she stared at him.
"Wrong?" he said, feeling fury building like a thunderhead in his skull. "Yeah, there's plenty wrong. First off, you coddle this kid too much—"
"Jack!"
"Don't interrupt me!" he said, his voice rising. "I hate to be interrupted."
"Jack, what on earth's wrong with you?"
There, she'd done it again. Interrupted him. She'd never learn, would she. Only one way to handle someone like that.
He balled a fist and raised his arm—
"Jack!"
The terror in Gia's eyes as she cringed away hit him like a kick in the gut, a bucket of ice water in the face…
What am I doing? What's happening to me? Jeez, I was just about to punch Gia. What—?
And then in a flash of clarity Jack knew, and the realization struck like a knife through his skull.
Somehow, someway, he'd been dosed with Berzerk. The when and the where didn't matter right now. First thing he had to do was get out of here. Couldn't be with anybody, especially not Gia and Vicky.
Get… out!
Fighting panic, he turned toward the door. Remembered his guns—had to dump them. Mix a 9mm and a .45 with a snootful of Berzerk and a lot of people could wind up dead. Reached under the back of his T-shirt and pulled the Glock from its SOB holster, then ripped the Semmerling, leather straps and all, from his ankle. Shoved them into Gia's hands, then added his knife… and his wallet.
Immediately something made him want to snatch them back, pushed him to reach for them. What—was he crazy, giving his money and beloved weapons to this woman?
Forced himself to step back, to grit out words, "Something's wrong. Take these. Gotta go. Explain later."
She stared at him wide-eyed with fright and confusion. "What—?"
Didn't dare risk another word, another second here. Hanging onto control by his fingertips, could feel it wriggling away from him. Could maintain this grip only so long before it slipped away again. Wanted—needed—to be as far as possible from here when it did. Turned and ran out the door.
4
"Let's go," Vuk said, reaching into his coat.
Ivo shook his head. He didn't want to do this. "Wait a bit. Maybe he'll come out."
They'd parked in a BMW 750iL up the gentle slope of Fifty-eighth Street from where they had a narrow-angle view of the door. A purely residential block. Not a single store and few pedestrians. They'd been here only a few minutes when they saw their man arrive on foot and enter the town house.