Griffen stood up and stretched. His muscles felt like lead. He looked at the clock--8:00 p.m. He had been playing for thirty hours straight.
"Thank you," he said to Mai. "I owe you."
"You don't," Mai said. "You did it all yourself. It was difficult to be in the same room with them. They have caused me a lot of trouble in the past. They are very tricky. I am surprised that they played the game honestly. I watched for ruses, but they did not use any. It is a compliment to you."
"I'm glad you didn't tell me that until afterward," Griffen said. "I might have screwed up."
"I doubt that very much. But it was very satisfying to see you beat them so thoroughly."
Griffen went into the bathroom and splashed his face. His eyes were red, and his chin was covered in stubble. He came out wiping his face with a towel.
"Good riddance to Jordan Ma. He can catch a plane to anywhere but here."
Mai looked smug. "Oh, well, he may make it to the airport, but he is not leaving New Orleans for a while."
"What? Why not?"
"I gave him a going-away present. A priceless relic of the Ming Dynasty."
Griffen looked at her suspiciously. "What kind of 'priceless relic'?"
"Oh, a dagger. It has a jade hilt in the shape of a dragon, eight-inch blade. Ruby eyes. Utterly beautiful and completely priceless." She grinned up at him sideways. "I called someone I know who went to Jordan's room and hid it in the lining of his suitcase. Oh, and there is a rope matching that which strangled Jesse Lee in the lining of Rebecca's luggage. They will probably sit in the Transportation Safety Administration office cursing my name." Mai smiled, a chillingly bloodthirsty expression. "I am enjoying the thought. They are responsible, after all."
Griffen returned the smile, uncharacteristically enjoying the sangfroid. "So am I. Do I want to know how you knew that?"
"No. It is better if you don't."
Griffen reached into the heap of coins on the table and offered Mai a handful.
"Are you trying to insult me? I don't do tips."
"But you do gold." He had seen her eyes glowing the same color as the game went on. "It's a gift for not killing any of them until I could clean them out."
Mai smiled. She took the coins in her small hands. "Yes. Thank you. I can see why they use them. I would find them impossible to resist." She held one up to her ear. "No, too heavy to use as earrings. Perhaps I will have one set in diamonds for a necklace. As a symbol of your success."
"Won't you get in trouble now, helping me against them?"
"If you had lost, it would have been me helping them," she pointed out. "You make your own luck. Even the elders must respect that."
Griffen nodded. "Will they try again?"
"Of course."
"Do you know what the next attempt will be?"
Mai was silent for a moment, considering her own plans and orders. With Jordan gone, her plan was back on the table.
"No. I don't know what will come next," she said.
That was honest but not helpful. Griffen knew then that he did care for her, but as he had told Jordan, he didn't trust her. He smiled. Her eyes twinkled at him.
"Congratulations."
"On what?"
She gestured at the gleaming heap of coins. "You have your first hoard. It is an important day in the life of a young dragon. You did an impressive job. You earned this. It is time to enjoy it."
"Not yet." Griffen listened for a moment, then leaned out the door. "You can come in now, Jer!"
Jerome seemed to detach from the frame of a doorway down the hall as if he were part of the molding. "You knew I was here?"
"Since about five hours ago," Griffen said. "Looking after your investment?"
"Well, I can't let the big boss go without protection," Jerome said. "What would Mose do if I lost him his replacement after lookin' for so long? My, my, isn't that pretty!" He admired the sprawling heap of gold coins.
Griffen was conscious again of how much he owed Jerome and Mose and so many other people in New Orleans. He took another handful of the gold disks and let them clink downward onto the tabletop. He gathered them up again and offered them to Jerome.
"Now, what's that for, Grifter?" Jerome asked, his dark eyes blazing.
"You've put up with a lot this last few months. I didn't give you the credence you deserved. I was pretty stubborn. I know I thought I was right, but I was wrong. I admit it. You earned this. Call it a bonus."
Jerome shook his head. "You get to think you're right once in a while, brother dragon. You didn't have the feelings I did, and truth to tell, there wasn't any other evidence to say that Peter was involved with the troublemakers. So, call it even." He looked down at the handful of coins, and carefully selected one. "Tell you what, I'll take this as a souvenir, but no more. Gold gets to you, changes you. I don't need it."
"What will you do with the rest?" Mai asked.
"I don't know. Pay off my debts."
"But that will take only a fraction of this fortune."
"Call Mose," Jerome said. "This call he might take. He's got about five hundred places that he puts things he wants to keep for later. Don't tell me which one of them you choose. Don't even trust me. This is too big a treasure to rely on common sense. But it is yours. You may need it one day. I suggest you plant it and forget about it."
"But what about my debts?"
Jerome pointed at the gleaming pile. "Sell a few of these and pay your debts. Won't take but a few. I can tell you who'll give you the best price and won't ask too many questions. Then just cache the rest. I promise you won't need it for now. Good job on handling the situation. Mose would be proud. I am, too."
"Thanks, Jer. That means a lot to me."
Griffen took his advice. He also set aside one gold coin each for Fox Lisa and Val. Maybe he'd present them as special doubloons from the dragon king.
It was good to be the king.
Forty-seven
" ' Scuse me, dude," said the big blond youth in the Florida State T-shirt. He hoisted what was left of his Hurricane and continued on his stagger up Royal Street.
Drunk as a skunk at noon on a Sunday. Griffen moaned and blotted liquor from his favorite blue shirt. He had avoided Bourbon completely over the last few weeks, but lately even the side streets were jammed with tourists, all of whom were increasingly more drunk and uninhibited. Almost everywhere in the French Quarter, girls on the wrought-iron balconies were flashing the crowds. Everyone seemed to be wearing hanks of glittering throws and donning masks, crowns, or hats in the three colors of Mardi Gras. Griffen was looking forward to Fafnir's parade. After that, he planned to hide out in his apartment until the stroke of midnight on Wednesday morning, when the street sweepers came out and washed the whole festival away. The entire city had gone crazy. There could be, he mused, too much of a good thing.
Griffen did not see a single face he knew in the mass, but he had the odd feeling that someone was watching him. He scanned the faces but never caught anyone looking at him. Still, he had learned long ago to trust his instincts. He ducked into the next alley and made a few turns, in case someone was following him. He came out on Decatur, a block north of the Cafe du Monde, but the feeling didn't go away.
His cell phone rang.
"Glad to see you're close by," Stoner's voice said. "Why don't you join me for coffee?"
"No, thanks," Griffen said. "I've got things to do."
He moved just before the hand caught his elbow. He spun around halfway, and found himself facing a tall, muscular man with a long, rectangular face in khakis and a polo shirt. Stoner's voice squawked tinnily out of the small receiver.
"Just go with Pearson, McCandles. We need to talk."