Nephi Callendar, the ace known as Straight Arrow, sighed like Job, only even more put-upon. "That's Nephi, Ray. Actually 'sir' would be more appropriate. Even 'Mr. Callendar.'"
"Right," Ray said. "Listen, sir, you'd better get me out of here before I start breaking things. There's a lot that has to be done."
"You think I don't know that? Get dressed. We have an important meeting."
"Oh, a meeting," Ray said as he went to the closet. "You don't know how much I've missed going to meetings the past week. You can't imagine the hours I've spent here pining away, wishing I had a meeting to go to."
"No," Callendar admitted, "I probably can't."
There was a limo waiting for them outside Walter Reed Hospital. Ray whistled when he saw it. "Jeez, you're moving up in the world, Nehi. I remember when you were just one of the guys in the Secret Service. Now you get to be the token wild carder on Barnett's staff with your own chauffeured limo and all."
"Try not to be offensive, Ray, if you can."
"All right," Ray said as the limo pulled out into traffic. "I'll try."
"Fine. As you know, the Task Force's currently operating under a special directive from the President to clear up this Card Shark problem."
"Yeah," Ray grumbled. "I'm sure he's been staying up late nights worrying about it."
"He has, actually." Callendar leaned forward. "Look. I know you don't think much of my decision to take this position in the Barnett government. But it was my decision and I stand by it. I'm not sure what Barnett intends for wild carders, but don't forget that I'm one myself. I'm in a position to ... well, watch out for things. You may not believe it, but I am. Ray, you did a good job on the island, but according to the journal you recovered Rudo had already left. And he'd taken a supply of the so-called Trump with him."
"Goddamn it," Ray swore. "You didn't see what that stuff did to Bobby Joe. Christ! I thought nothing could do that shit-kicker for good, but it turned him into a pile of pus and jello right in front of me."
"I saw the photos of the other victims," Callendar said coldly. "Our scientists are working on Rudo's journal and we'll have some concrete information about the Trump any time now. And there's one thing you should remember. Blasphemy does no one any good."
"I'll jot that down in my thought book. Are you sending me after Rudo and the Trump?"
"You'll find out about your assignment soon enough," Callendar said.
The limo turned off the street. Ray glanced out the window. He'd been a Secret Service agent long enough to recognize the back way into the White House when he saw it.
"So what do I call him?" Ray asked Callendar.
"Who?"
"Barnett. Do I call him Mr. President or Reverend?"
Callendar sighed again. He did that a lot in Ray's company. "You're not going to pray with the man," he said. "You're going in for a very private, very high level briefing. Be courteous, be attentive, be quiet and you might still be in government service when the meeting's over. Okay?"
"Sure, okay, Nehi. Whatever you say."
Callendar suppressed an urge to roll his eyes. He was learning that the best way to deal with Ray was to ignore half his comments and pretend to ignore the rest. Ray was quiet as they parked the limo, went through the various security checkpoints and walked down the hallway to the Oval Office. Still, as they stopped before the office door, Callendar felt compelled to issue a final warning. "Just behave yourself with Rev - er, President Barnett. Okay?"
"Of course," Ray said, stepping in front of Callendar. "Think anyone's home?" he asked as he pounded on the door.
It was opened by a Secret Service agent that neither Ray nor Callendar recognized. He was a nat, though. Barnett had weeded all wild carders, ace and joker alike, from those assigned to guard himself and his family. The agent wore mirrorshades. His meticulously pressed suit made Ray envious. He had the omnipresent radio plug in his ear. He looked back inside the office. "Agents Callendar and Ray to see you, sir."
"Show them in, Frank," Barnett said in his soft southern drawl. "You may wait outside."
The agent stepped aside and waved Ray and Callendar in.
"Don't you think the shades are overdoing it a bit?" Ray asked in a low voice as they went by. The agent sneered silently and Ray put him on his list.
Ray looked around the Oval Office. It hadn't changed much since the last occupant had left, but Barnett had added his own personal touches. All and all it wasn't bad, though the pen and pencil set fashioned as a model of the three crosses on Calvary looked a little out of place on the presidential desk.
Barnett stood as they entered the room. He was a tall, fit man, and handsome in what Ray considered a slightly effete way. His voice was rich and powerful. Ray half-suspected that Barnett had some kind of wild card ability. But he didn't. Barnett was just a salesman and a politician, and he was good at both.
"Sit down, Agent Ray," Barnett said warmly, indicating one of the chairs in front of the huge desk that dominated the office. "Just sit yourself down right here."
Ray could swear that he almost heard a twinkle in Barnett's voice. Whatever the hell that could be.
"Thanks, Nephi. Sit yourself down," Barnett said as he put his expensively-clad butt in the chair behind the desk.
Callendar nodded and took the second of three chairs arranged in front of the President's desk. Barnett turned directly to Ray and smiled long enough to make Ray feel more than a little uncomfortable.
"Well," Barnett said after what seemed to be a long time. "Well, well, well." He looked down at his desk top and gestured vaguely at the thick file that rested there. "It's good to see you again. Let's see. When did we last meet?"
"In Atlanta, Mr. President. When I got gutted by Mackie Messer on the floor of the Democratic National Convention." The memory of the twisted little ace with the buzzsaw hands still gave Ray nightmares, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone.
"Of course," Barnett said. "You know, I've been looking up your record. Extraordinary. Truly extraordinary. You're a fine example of American patriotism. All that you've done for your country over the years ..."
I just like to kick ass, Ray was about to say, but he remembered what Callendar had said and for once he managed to hold his tongue as Barnett stared at the closed cover of the dossier, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. When he looked up his eyes were large and soulful, his voice dripping with worry and regret.
"I don't have to tell you," he said - and then did - "that our great country stands as at the center of a difficult crossroads. The wild card is a curse on this land - oh, I know that might sound harsh to you, but after all you benefited from that hellish virus."
"Yes, sir," Ray said quietly.
"Yes, well, naturally you've seen the suffering and pain caused by the wild card. I have. I see it constantly. I'm doing my best to end the suffering for all citizens, but recent events have made things ... precarious."
There was another long silence that Ray felt compelled to fill. "You mean the revelations about the Card Sharks?"
"Yes," Barnett said. "Exactly. Their methods in dealing with the wild card problem have been unnecessarily brutal and have led to no end of disquieting publicity."
"That's one way of putting it."
"Worse," Barnett went on as if he hadn't heard Ray, "many of these so-called Sharks had government connections. Some very high level connections. Most have been exposed and, uh, dealt with, but some still remain at large."
Ray nodded. "Pan Rudo. Johnson." Ray suppressed a smile. He thought he knew where this was heading, and he was more than ready to go out and kick more Card Shark ass.
"Yes. Among others. If you hadn't botched the assignment - " Barnett quickly retreated when he saw Ray's sudden coloring. " - not that it was totally your fault, of course. Still. Still... I know that Agent Callendar has now assigned you to go after one of your own people - "