"Rudo," she said. Rudo's men flanked her on either side, silent.
"I see you've dropped any pretense of politeness, Ms. Davis."
"You've lost any right you had to it," she answered. "Card Sharks — such an apt name for your little group of murderers."
"Shut up, lady," Muscles snarled in her ear. His voice matched the body: low and powerful. "Don't make yourself sound more like a fool than you are."
"Mr. Johnson, please," Rudo said. He smiled at Hannah. "Name-calling will get us nowhere," he said. "I won't bore you with justifications or the philosophy. My friend is right, however — you fail to see the larger scope of the problem we're facing. You have something of ours, and we'd like to have it back. That's all I care about; then we'll even let you go your own way — for now."
Hannah clutched the tiger closer to her as Johnson grabbed her elbow. The lobby was busy, though no one had noticed them as yet. People were passing, going in and out on their way to the rooms or the street or the bar. "We're in public, Rudo. You really want a scene?"
The corner of Rudo's mouth lifted. "Someone used my name at the desk to gain access to Ms. Monroe's room. That same someone stole an item from her bedroom and then ran, as I am certain Ms. Monroe will testify. Fans steal things like that all the time. A scene, Ms. Davis? I assuredly don't want one. It would be a shame for you to be arrested — jail is such a dangerous place." He held out a hand. "The stuffed toy, Ms. Davis, if you please…."
Behind Rudo, a familiar form was suddenly there.
"Quasiman!"
The hunchback looked as if he were about to rush headlong at Rudo. His slab-like hands were fisted, muscles bunched up all along the massive forearms. The Sicilian was already reaching inside his jacket. Hannah knew that if the joker attacked, no matter how strong or quick he was, they would lose. Quasiman was fast, but he couldn't move faster than a trigger could be pulled nor was he any less vulnerable than anyone else to a bullet. And if Hannah just happened to be shot in the attack….
"Here!" she shouted, and tossed Quasiman the stuffed tiger before either of the goons could stop her. "Go!" she shouted as Quasiman caught the toy. "Go on!"
But Quasiman only glanced at the stuffed toy dangling by one leg in his massive hand, and the sudden vacancy in his eyes terrified Hannah. His aggressive stance relaxed, his body slumped. He gaped at Hannah as if seeing her for the first time, drool running from the side of his slack mouth, and she knew they were lost. The cavalry had come, horns blowing and flags flying, but it had forgotten why.
Rudo snatched for the stuffed animal. At the same moment, Hannah tore loose from Johnson. She shoved Rudo aside as Quasiman stared at her quizzically. Hannah felt movement at her back and half expected to feel a bullet tear into her from behind. Desperate, she took Quasiman's ugly head between her hands, hugging him as she whispered. "Please, Quasiman. You've been holding it all together for so long. Don't forget now." She kissed him, int his lips didn't open to her. She might have been kissing marble. "Damn it, remember! — "
"How touching." Johnson's fingers dug furrows in her biceps, dragging Hannah back. Quasiman just watched, a faint scowl on his face as if he were trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Rudo put his manicured hand on the tiger. "It's mine," he told Quasiman. "You will give it to me now." He pulled the toy from Quasiman's yielding grasp.
"Quasi!" Hannah cried desperately, and in that moment, there was the barest flicker of recognition in his eyes. Quasiman moved in a blur, snatching the tiger back before Rudo could react.
"Hannah," he said. "I remember." A breath later, Quasiman and the toy had vanished.
Hannah let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Relief coursed through her, molten. Rudo whirled around to her, glaring. "Where?" he said.
"I don't know," Hannah told him defiantly. She tried to pull her arms away from the Suits. They held her tightly. "It's a lovely day for a ride, don't you think?" Johnson said in Hannah's ear, beginning to pull her toward the door. People were staring at them, and the desk clerk was talking earnestly with a security guard, pointing in their direction.
"No." Rudo said sharply before Hannah could shout. "Not here. Not now." Johnson released her at Rudo's shake of his head. Hannah grinned triumphantly, rubbing her arms. Rudo leaned close to Hannah before she could step away, so that only she could hear what he said. "Listen to me." In the face of her triumph, he was almost smiling, a smile made of dry ice and stone. "You win this round, but nothing else. Nothing. The information will do you no good. No one's going to believe you, no one's going to listen. If you go to the media with this, they will think you are paranoid or even deranged. That is, if you even get the chance to speak. The fact is, Ms. Davis, you are dead. Maybe not today, but very soon. You are already dead and rotting in your grave."
His words caused the grin to vanish from Hannah's face. She felt sick. Rudo's proximity raised the goose bumps on her flesh and brushed icy hands down her back.
Then Rudo straightened and smiled again: at her, at the desk clerk, at the security guard who had stopped halfway to them, at the people watching the confrontation from around the lobby. He began walking away with a casual stride.
"Rudo!"
The man stopped and turned. Alongside Rudo, Johnson glared back at her, scowling.
"It was a mistake, wasn't it?" she asked him. "The fire, I mean. It had to be. That's not the way you people Work. You just recruited the wrong person with Ramblur, someone who echoed your hatred and bigotry in the simplest, most direct way. Tell me. I deserve to know."
"We all make mistakes, Ms. Davis," Rudo answered softly. He regarded her with his cold, light eyes. "That one was rectified. As will be the others," he added.
With that, Rudo left the hotel, nodding politely to the doorman as he passed, the two guards in tow. The Sicilian opened the door of the limousine outside for him; Johnson watched the street carefully. Rudo paused, staring back into the lobby. He nodded to Hannah before getting into the car.
***
She found Quasiman by the kitchen window, staring out into the Jokertown dusk, his twisted, deformed body slumped against one of the cheap metal chairs. A streetlight flickered on, smearing dirty light over the streaked glass. The stuffed tiger sat on the kitchen table, wedged between a catsup bottle and the sugar bowl. Hannah picked up the toy and cuddled it to her chest.
"Quasiman?"
His face turned toward her. His eyes narrowed. "I don't know you," he said. "Am I supposed to know you?"
"I'm Hannah. You saved me again, not many hours ago. You'll remember soon. Just wait a few minutes…."
"I'm not sure," a voice spoke: Father Squid, behind her. Hannah looked at the priest quizzically. "Hannah, I've known Quasiman for many years. In that time, I have never — never — seen him hold onto reality this long or this coherently. I don't think we can understand the strain that was for him: trying to keep you in his head, trying to maintain coherency and some semblance of why any of this was so important. You saw him over the last several days — he was getting worse, losing more and more of what had happened and what you were doing. The poor man … It was a valiant effort, but it was also a battle he was doomed from the start to lose." Father Squid sighed, the tentacles over his mouth quivering. "He's been like this since he came back. I guess I've been expecting it. I don't expect his mental state to change — not soon, maybe not ever. I'll be surprised if he manages to come bash, to nus for that long again."