"This is getting weird," Brennan said. "Getting?"
Brennan grunted and picked up the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper with a message written in the now-familiar tiny hand, complete with its usual quota of spelling errors.
"`For yur own safety'" he read, "'stay away frum the Cristal Palace."'
"Why?" Jennifer asked.
Brennan shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. Our secret informant hasn't lied so fax: It's been spooky as hell and gotten me into trouble a few times, but it's always told the truth."
"Were you planning on going to the Palace?" Jennifer asked.
"No. Right now I'm planning on heightening my appreciation of Chinese art." He folded the note and put it in his pocket, then hefted his bow case. "Let's go."
They stopped him the moment he stepped out of the revolving doors into the lobby of the Marriott Marquis. "May I see your room key, sir?" a black man in a security blazer asked him, none too politely.
Jay gave him his most apologetic smile. "Don't have one yet," he said. "I'm just checking in." He tried to walk briskly around him, the garment bag slung over his shoulder.
The guard sidestepped, planting himself squarely in Jay's path. "Hotel's full," he said. "We're not authorized to admit anyone but guests. Can I see some identification?"
"I've got business with one of your guests," Jay said. "Hiram Worchester. He's in the New York delegation."
"Is he expecting you?"
"Well," Jay admitted, "not exactly."
"Then I suggest you phone him. The desk will be glad to take a message. If he wants to see you, we'll arrange a pass." Jay slapped his forehead and let his mouth hang open. "A pass? You know, Hiram gave me a pass, how could I be so stupid? God, isn't that funny? You thinking I'm trying to get in without a pass, and here I've got one all the time?"
"Hilarious," the man in the security blazer said. "Where did I put it?" Jay fumbled in his pocket for a moment, shaped his hand into a gun, drew it out. "Here's my pass," he said happily, looking up. Two tall men in dark suits were flanking the guy in the blazer, dark glasses hiding their eyes. Neither of them was smiling.
"I don't see a pass," the guard said. "I just see you pointing at me, asshole."
Jay. looked at his finger. Then he looked at the men. There were three of them. The two on the ends had bulges under their jackets. He put his hand back into his pocket and took a step backward. The dark suits moved in, crowding him toward the wall. "No, really, I was wearing my pass just a moment ago," Jay explained. "in all this crush, somebody must have brushed against me, knocked it off…"
"That so?" The man looked at his partner and smirked. "You know," Jay said, snapping his fingers, "come to think of it, I just remembered. My friend's in the Hyatt, not the Marriott. How could I be so stupid?" Scuttling backward like a crab, grinning like a moron, he edged back through the revolving doors into the July heat of Atlanta. The feds watched him carefully every step of the way.
11:00 A.M.
Lin's Curio Emporium was located near the nebulous boundary between Jokertown and Chinatown. It was surrounded by other quality stores and expensive restaurants. Outside it didn't really look like much. Inside it was understated elegance. The carpeting was deep, rich red. The lighting was subdued and intimate. The curio cases scattered on the floor were antiques themselves. The screens and silks and statues displayed on the walls and in the cases were superb examples of Oriental art dating as far back as the Shang dynasty, more than a thousand years before Christ.
Brennan was impressed by their wares. He was also impressed by the elegant floor clerk, who was as beautiful as any of the artifacts on display. She kept a watchful, if discreet, eye on Brennan since he entered the shop.
Lin's collection of artifacts was really extraordinary. Brennan had almost lost himself in contemplation of a case full of intricately carved jade censers when he looked up to see Jennifer hovering behind the salesclerk and making urgent gestures toward the rear of the building. It was time to go to work.
He approached the clerk, who asked in a musical, lilting voice, "Can I help you?"
Brennan laid his case flat atop one of the waist-high curio cabinets and smiled at her. "I believe so." He opened it and reached inside. "I would like to get this silk painting appraised."
"Ah, yes," she said, leaning forward. A frown creased her exquisite features as Brennan pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.
"Sorry," Brennan said.
She looked at hirn quizzically as Jennifer materialized behind her and chopped her across the back of her neck. Brennan reached out and caught her before she hit the floor. "No flirting with the help," Jennifer said as Brennan lowered her to the floor behind the counter.
He ignored her statement. "What's going on in back?"
"Wyrm's in the back office, in conference with a small, middle-aged Chinese woman."
"Sui Ma," Brennan said… Who?..
"Kien's sister." He went past Jennifer and patted her cheek. "Lock the front door," he said. "It would be embarrassing if someone walked in on us."
Brennan got his bow out and assembled it as Jennifer locked the front door and put out the CLosED sign. He went through the bead curtain that separated the shop's floor from the rear of the building, and down the hallway beyond. The elegant ambience disappeared as he entered what was obviously a shipping and receiving area. It was deserted now, though dozens of boxes were lying around waiting to be packed or unpacked.
There was a small, glassed-off office in one corner of the shipping area. Sui Ma was sitting behind a desk in the office and Wyrm was standing before her, packing a small suitcase.
Fadeout hadn't mentioned Sui Ma, Brennan thought. She was Kien's sister, and head of the immaculate Egrets, the Chinatown street gang that ran the Fists' drug enterprises. She was plain and innocuous looking, but as wily as her brother.
Brennan went silently through the shipping area, creeping closer to the office until he could hear what Wyrm was saying.
"… with her dead the sssecret isss sssafffe," Wyrm said. There was no doubt in Brennan's mind as to whom Wyrm was referring. Anger burned brightly in him as he suddenly stood in the doorway, arrow drawn and aimed at the back of Wyrm's head.
It was a startling entrance. Sui Ma gaped at him in astonishment, then Wyrm also turned to stare. Brennan realized that Wyrm was packing plastic bags of blue powder into the false bottom of the suitcase. A small pile of clothes sat on the desk next to the suitcase. What looked like Wyrm's passport was balanced precariously atop the pile.
"Yeoman!" Sui Ma said sharply. She didn't blubber or bluster, but cut right to the heart of the matter. "I thought that you and my brother had a truce!"
"We did," Brennan replied, "until Wyrm killed Chrysalis."
"What?" burst from both Sui Ma and Wyrm at the same time. Their feigned ignorance seemed almost believable. "Who told you that Wyrm killed Chrysalis?" Sui Ma demanded.
"I have my sources," Brennan replied. "Besides, what were you talking about when I just came in? Whose death, and what secrets?"
Sui Ma burst out laughing. "Live for Tomorrow." Confused, Brennan lowered his bow slightly. "What?" "Live for Tomorrow," Sui Ma repeated. "It's a soap opera," she said.
Brennan felt a sense of immense dislocation. "Soap opera?"
"Yes. You see, Janice was killed in a car crash in yesterday's episode, so Jason's secret of actually being her love child is safe and he can marry Veronica."
"A soap opera?"
"Yes. Wyrm had missed a few episodes. I was filling him in while he packed his, uh, delivery."
"Sure," Brennan said mockingly. He turned to Wyrm. "So you watch soap operas?"
The hatred was still in Wyrm's eyes, but also something of a shameful expression, as if it'd just been revealed that he was some kind of hideous pervert. "Ssssometimesss," he said defensively.