"You can't blame me for being cautious," Fadeout said, leading the way into the cemetery through the sagging wroughtiron gate. "You killed a lot of Fists at Tachyon's clinic."
Brennan jumped down lightly from the top of the wall. "Do you really care about that?" he asked.
"No," Fadeout admitted. He looked around, suppressing a shiver. "But I was, well, a little concerned about meeting in this godforsaken place. It gives me the creeps."
"I like it. Dark. Quiet. Plenty of cover." Brennan was suddenly tired of all the small talk. "Let's talk about Chrysalis." Fadeout glanced at Lazy Dragon, who was watching impassively. "I know that you're looking for Chrysalis's murderer. You caused quite a scene at Squisher's Basement. I'm afraid that you totally ruined Bludgeon's reputation."
"It wasn't hard. He wasn't the same old Bludgeon." Fadeout nodded. "He's dying of AIDS. That's not a fate I'd wish on anyone, but I can't say that I'm too sorry. The man was a disgusting brute. Now he's disgusting and pathetic."
"I didn't call this meeting to discuss Bludgeon's health problems."
"Right. I want to help."
"Help?"
"Yes. Help find Chrysalis's killer."
"I see." Brennan smoothed his mustache thoughtfully. "And in return?"
Fadeout shrugged. "I want nothing more than you want. I want Kien removed."
Brennan smiled slowly.
"I don't know what you have against him," Fadeout continued. "But I know that you want him bad. As for me, well, let's say that I could envision the Shadow Fists doing quite nicely with a new leader."
Brennan glanced at Lazy Dragon. "And a new chief lieutenant?"
"I'm very generous," Fadeout said, "to those who help me. I've been generous to Lazy Dragon. I was generous to you in the past and can be again."
"The only thing I need," Brennan said, "is information."
"Ask away."
"Did Wyrm kill Chrysalis?"
"Well, you cut right to the heart of the matter, don't you?" Fadeout said, shaking his head.
"That's right."
"Well," Fadeout said carefully, "we all know that Wyrm has a violent temper, and he's totally devoted to Kien. Chrysalis, of course, knew that Kien is head of the Fists, but she'd kept quiet about it. If, however, she found out something that threatened Kien, Wyrm might have had the initiative to do something on his own."
"Like finding out about Kien's new designer drug?"
"Rapture?" Fadeout asked. "Yes, you've learned about our new head candy, haven't you?"
"Something about it."
"Perhaps Chrysalis learned something about it, too."
"And Wyrm killed her."
Fadeout shrugged again. "I make no accusations. It is a thought, however. I can make a few discrete inquiries on the subject."
Brennan nodded. "All right. I'll be in touch."
"One thing," Fadeout said as Brennan turned away, "you might keep your eyes open for. Chrysalis's secret files."
"Secret files?"
"Her information cache. The talk is that she kept meticulous records concerning everything she'd ever discovered on everybody in the city, and those records didn't turn up when the police searched the Palace. And you can bet that the police had orders to search very thoroughly."
"What do you want with these files?"
Fadeout smiled. "Someone has to take Chrysalis's place." Brennan shook his head. "You're an ambitious man. First you want to replace Kien. Now you want to replace Chrysalis." Fadeout shrugged. "A man has to stay busy."
"All right," Brennan said. "I'll keep my eyes open for them. I may want to have a look at them myself."
"Fine," Fadeout said with a smile. "Have fun catching Chrysalis's killer. Then come after Kien. I'll be there to help you."
"We'll see." Brennan turned, stopped, turned back to Fadeout and Lazy Dragon. "One last thing. Ever hear of an ace named Doug Morkle?"
Fadeout and Dragon exchanged glances. "No. Should I have?"
"Beats me," Brennan admitted. "He's on my list of suspects, but no one has ever heard of the bastard."
"Morkle. Strange name. I'll ask around."
Brennan nodded, turned again, and faded into the night, leaving Fadeout and Dragon to deal with a car whose radiator fluid was now an oily green puddle on the street.
6:00 A.M.
Jay opened his eyes and closed them again quickly. The light made his headache unbearable. The pounding behind his eyelids was like thunder, the left side of his face was a single dull mass of pain, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Somebody had yanked his hands behind his back and tied them together.
When he tried to get up, something ground together inside his chest, and the pain was excruciating. A feeble groan escaped his lips. He rolled back and tried to lie very still. Maybe he should just go back to sleep.
"I heard him," a deep voice muttered, somewhere far away. "He moaned. He's coming to."
"Bring him here, John," someone else said. The second voice was vaguely familiar.
Massive hands lifted him as easily as a grown man might lift a child, carried him across the room, and propped him up in a chair. The hands were not gentle. Jay had to stifle a scream.
"Open your eyes, Mr. Ackroyd," the second voice said. Reluctantly, Jay tried. His left eye was swollen almost shut.
The grim reaper sat staring at him across an antique desk.
"Dutton," Jay managed, through cracked, bloody lips. The reaper nodded.
A shadow fell across Jay. He forced himself to turn his head. It wasn't until you got really close to the Oddity that' you realized how big the fucker was. He could hear labored breathing from behind the fencing mask and feel the weight of eyes staring down implacably through the steel mesh. "You said you didn't know the Oddity," Jay said to Dutton.
"I lied," Dutton told him.
Jay tried to think of a wisecrack, but his mind wasn't in it. He closed his eyes again, forced them open. He felt like his head was going to explode. "I don't," he said, "don't suppose you got any aspirin you could let me have?"
"John," Dutton said, "there's a bottle of aspirin in my toilet. If you wouldn't mind?"
"Let him hurt," the Oddity rumbled. "He doesn't care how much we hurt, does he? Let him bleed for a while."
"I understand the sentiment," Dutton replied. "But we do want his cooperation, after all. Please. "
Grumbling, the Oddity shuffled through the bathroom door in the back of the office. Jay heard the medicine cabinet open with a bang, then the sound of water splashing into a sink.
"My apologies," Dutton said. "John's temper often'gets the better of him, and I'm afraid he does not like you." The Oddity returned with a handful of aspirin tablets in one hand and a glass of water in the other. With his hands still tied behind his back, Jay could only open his mouth. The Oddity stuffed in a half-dozen aspirin, then lifted the water to his lips. Jay swallowed until he began choking.
The Oddity grunted, stood up, and watched Jay sputter for breath. The joker's right hand, the one that held the water glass, was big and rough, coarse dark hair covering the knuckles. The left was much smaller, more delicate, a woman's hand, its fingernails long and pointed. Under the thick, dark clothing, Jay could see the swell of breasts. "Thanks," he managed.
"Fuck you," the Oddity snarled.
Jay turned back to Dutton. "You knew I was coming," he said. It wasn't a question.
"You or someone like you," Dutton replied. "How much is Barnett paying you to betray your own people?"
For a moment Jay didn't think he'd heard him right. "Barnett?" he said groggily. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Don't try my patience, Mr. Ackroyd," Dutton said wearily. "Why do aces insist on treating jokers as though we were retarded children? I didn't get where I am by being stupid."
"You may be the smartest guy in the world, for all I know," Jay said. "But you're still wrong."
"Am I?" Dutton said. "Then why are you here?"