"I don't care what he's been through."
"Aren't you the fucking soul of compassion?" Jay said. "I don't waste my compassion on killers," Brennan said. "Oh, I forgot, you're Mother Teresa," Jay said with bitter sarcasm. "Well, pardon the hell out of me. Thing of it is, though, seeing as how you hate killers so much, I can't help noticing you're the only one in the room with a gun in his hand."
"Jay, Daniel, please," Tachyon pleaded. His good hand cradled his bandaged stump, and he sounded weak and sick at heart. "Can't we work this out like civilized people?"
"He's trying to protect a killer," Yeoman said icily. "You got a hell of a lot of nerve calling anyone a killer, Danny boy," Jay snapped back.
"This isn't about me," Yeoman said.
"Stop it!" Tachyon cried. He looked over at Brennan. "Daniel, there must be some mistake. I know Hiram Worchester. I have known him for close on two decades now, in good times and bad. He is a good man. Even if I believed for a moment that Hiram was capable of such an act, he was here in Atlanta at the convention while Chrysalis was being murdered in Jokertown: He couldn't have done it."
Jay glanced back at Hiram uncomfortably. "Well," he admitted with vast reluctance, "that's not quite true. I checked the airline schedules. If he took the last flight out and the first flight back, he'd never have been missed. But Carnifex could have caught the same flights. Same for Braun, or any of them."
"That can easily be verified," Tachyon pointed out. "Even if Hiram used an assumed name, a man of his size would have been noticed."
"Then check it if that's what it takes to convince you," Brennan said. "I have all the proof I need."
"What about a motive?" Jay demanded. "Or don't you bother with things like that? Motives, chains of evidence, courtrooms, what a fucking nuisance, right? Your way is a lot simpler. Danny Brennan says he's guilty, time to kill the poor bastard."
"I have evidence," Brennan replied curtly. "Enough to convince me that it's true."
"As far as I can see, you don't have jack shit except for a deck of cards you found in some coat pocket," Jay said. "Jay makes a good point," Tachyon put in. "Do you have any proof that Hiram brought the cards to this apartment?"
"The kitchen cabinets were full of expensive gourmet foods. There was every kind of utensil you can imagine, everything a gourmet cook like Worchester would need. And the jacket was white linen, expensive, fashionable, customtailored. Size 68 long. Chrysalis was killed by an ace. How many aces wear that size?"
Silence filled the room.
Jay turned to look behind him. Hiram still sat on the corner of the bed. He was not using his gravity power; the mattress tilted ominously under his massive weight. His face was pale and damp, his shoulders slumped, his eyes still fixed on the ace of spades that lay at his feet.
The stillness lasted an eon. All three of them were looking at Hiram now. The big ace seemed oblivious until Tachyon finally, softly, said, "Hiram?"
Then he looked up, and sighed hugely. His eyes were sad and sick. "Yes, doctor?" he asked.
"Are ou all right?" Tach asked gently.
"No," Hiram said. "I haven't been all right for some time."
"This is crazy," Jay said. "Hiram, don't just sit there. Tell him that he's wrong."
"I wish I could," Hiram said with quiet dignity. "You don't know how much I wish that."
"What are you saying?" Tachyon asked, dread in his voice. "You don't mean to say that these accusations are true? "
Hiram nodded, his eyes far off and full of pain. The big man seemed to be having trouble speaking. "I… I'm sorry." Then it was Jay who had no words.
"There must be some explanation," Tachyon said. "I cannot accept this. You're a good man, a man of courage and integrity."
"Ti Malice," Jay blurted. "That fucking thing was riding you, using you, your powers, your body." He swung around to face Brennan. "You don't understand the situation. Hiram was a victim. Even if he did do it, he was only the instrument."
"No, Jay," Hiram interrupted quietly. "I appreciate your loyalty, but… it wasn't like that. It was me. Just me. God help me." He fell silent again, eyes turned inward.
"Hiram, tell us," Tachyon implored.
For a moment Hiram didn't seem to hear. Then the big ace began to speak. His voice was weary, so quiet they had to strain to hear. "I needed the kiss," he began simply. "That was why I flew back to New York that night. The last flight out, just as Jay surmised. You don't know what it was like to go without the kiss… I needed it badly."
"So I flew back up, and went to him secretly. There were always other… other mounts about. Ti Malice was never alone. When I arrived, he was mounted on Sascha. But my… my master was pleased to see me. He left Sascha and gave me his kiss."
"That was when Sascha told me. He was angry. It was an act of spite. I'd taken Ti Malice away from him, you see, and there is nothing so awful in the world. He wanted to hurt me, so he told me that Chrysalis had hired a man to assassinate Gregg Hartmann. He knew how hard I'd worked, how much hope and faith and trust I'd put in Gregg. Sascha had picked it out of her mind just that morning. He was only a skimmer, you know, the poorest kind of telepath, but her plan must have been right there on the surface of her mind."
"It didn't bother me, not then. When Ti Malice honors you with his kiss, everything seems just as it should be, and nothing can bother you. But after a few hours, the master bestowed his kiss on Ezili, leaving me alone again. That was when I finally grasped what Sascha had said. I couldn't believe it. It seemed so monstrous, so obscene. I knew Chrysalis. Not well, but I knew her, we'd spent five months together on the Stacked Deck. I couldn't believe she would do such a thing. I had to confront her. I dressed and went down to the Crystal Palace."
"She was alone in her office, playing solitaire. You have to believe me, I never intended to hurt her. I told her what I'd heard, demanded to know if it was true. She didn't deny it. She didn't say anything. She looked up at me once, suspiciously, then went right back to playing solitaire. When I pressed her, all I got were evasive, meaningless answers in that infuriating fake accent of hers. If only she'd talked to me, told me what she knew about Gregg, what she'd seen
… perhaps I wouldn't have believed her at first, but I would have listened. Dear God, why wouldn't she talk to me?"
"She didn't trust you, Hiram," Jay said, with a sad certainty. "That was how she was. She didn't trust anybody."
"I tried to make her see… how important it was. What a good man Gregg was." Hiram laughed bitterly. "I talked about his principles, his courage, his commitment to all of us, jokers and aces alike, how he was our last hope. Dear God, what a fool she must have thought me!"
"I begged her." Tears were running down Hiram's face. "If it was true, what Sascha had said, I… I begged her to call it off. And all the time she just played cards, turning them over one by one, putting them down in place. They made a little snapping noise when she flipped them off the deck, I remember. Black on red, red on black. Her face
… like a skull. I couldn't tell what she was thinking. She reminded me of death, sitting there playing cards while her hired assassin went out to do her killing for her. By what right? I asked her that, and she had no answer. I was very angry then. I made accusations, threats, told her I would go to the police. She just looked up and said that I'd do no such thing, that she knew a few things about me, too, and I knew she was talking about Ti Malice. Then she told me to get out. I refused. I begged her to talk to me, to listen to me. She just laughed, and started to get out of her chair. That was when… when. .."