Gregg had always been cautious, had always sought the safe path. Recklessness was not something with which he was comfortable, and this was reckless. But since Syria, since Berlin, it seems he'd been forced to choose this path. "Sorry I couldn't make it during your business hours," he continued, his voice nearly apologetic. " I felt your meeting might be too private for that."
Good. Let them think they're negotiating from strength, at least for a bit. You need to know what they know. Chrysalis lowered the gun; muscles expanded under her transparent arm and across her chest-the dress she wore did little to conceal her body. Red lips that seemed to float on glassy flesh pursed. "Senator," she said with that breathy fake accent that Gregg disliked, " I assume you know what Mr. Downs and myself would like to discuss."
Gregg took a breath. He smiled. "You want to talk about aces," he said. "Especially ones who are-so to speak-up the sleeve and who intend to stay that way. You want to see what I might be able to do for you. I think it's usually called blackmail."
"AA, that's such an ugly word." She stepped back into the office. Her lips tightened, the horror-show skull eyes blinked. "Please come in."
Chrysalis's office was luxurious. A polished oak desk, plush leather chairs, an expensive rug over the center of the hardwood floor, wooden bookcases on which gold-leaf spines were lined neatly in sets. Downs was sitting nervously. He smiled tentatively at Gregg as the senator entered.
"Hey, Senator. What's shakin'?"
Gregg didn't bother to answer. He stared hard at Downs. The little man sniffed and sat back in the chair. Chrysalis brushed past him in a wave of perfume and took her seat behind the desk. She waved at one of the empty chairs.
"Have a seat, Senator. I don't believe our business will take that long."
"Exactly what are we talking about?"
"We're talking about the fact that I'm considering telling the public that you're an ace. I'm sure you'd be very unhappy with that."
Gregg had expected Chrysalis to threaten; she was no doubt used to getting results from that tactic, and he didn't doubt that she considered herself safe from physical violence here. Gregg watched Downs from the corners of his eyes. The reporter had shown himself to be the nervous type on the wild card tour, and he couldn't control his agitation now. Sweat beaded on his forehead; he rubbed his hands and squirmed in his seat. If Chrysalis was at ease with this, Downs was not. Good. Puppetman came alert. We made a mistake not taking him. Let me have him now.
No. Not yet. Wait.
"You are an ace, aren't you, Senator?" Chrysalis asked the question coolly, pretending nonchalance.
He knew they expected him to deny it. So he simply smiled. "Yes," he answered just as calmly.
"Your blood test were faked?"
"As they can be faked again. But I don't think I'll have to do that."
"You're rather overconfident in your ability, then." Gregg, looking at Downs rather than Chrysalis, could see the uncertainty. He knew what the man was thinking: A projecting telepath? A mental power like Tachyon's? What if we can't control him?
Gregg smiled calmly to lend credence to that misconception. "Your friend Downs isn't so certain," he told Chrysalis. "Everyone in Jokertown knows about Gimli's empty skin being found last night in an alleyway, and he wonders about whether I had anything to do with that." It was a bluffGregg had been as surprised (and delighted) as anyone else at the news-but Gregg saw the color drain from Downs's face. "He wonders if I might not be able to coerce your cooperation through my ace."
"You can't. And whatever happened to Gimli had nothing to do with you, not directly," Chrysalis answered forcefully. "No matter what he thinks. My best guess is that you've a mind power, but with a rather limited range. So even if you can make us say yes now, you can't enforce it."
She knows! Puppetman s wail echoed in Gregg's head. You've got to kill her. Please. It will taste good. We could make Oddity do it…
She suspects, that's all, he answered.
What's the difference? Have them killed; we have puppets who would find pleasure in it. Have them killed and we don't have to worry.
Kill them now and we have more trails to cover up. Misha wouldn't talk; we still don't know what evidence Chrysalis was given. Gimli's taken himself out of the picture, but there's still the other man in Video's memory-the Russian. And Sara. Puppetman's scorn was a barb.
Shut up. Sara we can control. Chrysalis will have plans made against her own death. We can't risk that.
The inner debate took only a moment. "I'm a politician. This isn't France, where the wild card is chic. I'm in a fight where Leo Barnett will use joker hatred as a tool. I've already seen Gary Hart's career wiped out by innuendo. I'm not going to let that happen to me. Still, people might look at whatever evidence you have and wonder. I might lose votes. People will say that blood tests can be faked, they'll look at Syria and Berlin with suspicion. I can't afford to lose ground to speculation."
"Which means we can come to an accommodation," Chrysalis smiled.
"Maybe not. I think you still have a problem."
"Senator, the press has its obligations…" Downs began, then fell silent with the withering gaze Hartmann gave him. "Aces magazine is hardly the legitimate press. Let me put it this way-your problem is that you don't know what I'm capable of. I will tell you that Berlin and Syria weren't accidents. I'll tell you that even now Gimli's little cadre is being arrested. I'll tell you that there's no way you can escape me if I want to find you." He turned his head slightly toward the door. "Mackie!" he called.
The door opened. Grinning, Mackie entered, supporting a stumbling woman wrapped in a long cloak. Mackie jerked the cloak from the woman's shoulders, revealing her naked and streaked with blood. He shoved the woman from behind, and she sprawled on the carpet in front of the horrified Chrysalis.
"I'm a reasonable man," Gregg said as Chrysalis and Downs stared at the figure moaning on the floor-"All I ask is that you think about this. Remember that I will contest any evidence. Remember that I can and will produce that negative blood test. Think about the fact that I don't even want to hear the faintest whisper of a rumor. And realize that I leave the two of you alive because you're the best sources of information I know-you hear everything, or so you'd have me believe. Good. Use those sources. Because if I hear any rumors, if I see a piece in the papers or Aces, if I notice that people are asking strange questions, if I'm attacked or hurt or even feel vaguely threatened, I'll know where to come."
Downs was staring slack-jawed at Misha; Chrysalis had sunk back against her desk. She tried to meet Gregg's eyes and failed. "You see, I intend to use you, not the reverse," Gregg continued. "I hold the two of you responsible for silence and safety. You're both so damned good at what you do. So start learning who my enemies are and work at stopping them. I'm vindictive, and I'm dangerous. I'm everything Gimli and Misha were afraid I might be."
"And if anyone else ever learns that, I'll consider it your fault. You might damage my presidential campaign by being heroes, but that's all. You cant prove anything else. After all, I've never actually killed or hurt anyone myself. I'd still be on the streets, afterward. And I'd find you without any trouble at all. And then I'd do to you what I'd do to any enemy."
Puppetman was chuckling in his mind, anticipating. Gregg smiled at Chrysalis, at Downs. He hugged Mackie, who was watching him eagerly. "Enjoy yourself," Gregg told him. He gave Chrysalis a small nod that was chilling in its nonchalance and left the office. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it until he heard the whine of Mackie's ace.
He let Puppetman loose to ride with the youth's strange, brightly colored madness. He hardly had to nudge Mackie at all.