"You get to warm your hands," Jack said without looking back.
"Doesn't matter that they're burned," he called. "You can burn all the paper you want, but it means nothing." His voice rose to a shout as they moved farther away. "Ever hear of the Internet, Alicia? We're on it. In lots of private places. And you know what? We're stars, Alicia. How do you like that? We're stars!"
Alicia pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out.
Beside her she heard Jack say, "Excuse me. I think I forgot something. Be right back."
Fighting the nausea bubbling just below her sternum, Alicia kept walking, breathing deeply. She didn't turn around to see what he'd forgotten. She hoped it was nothing tangible…
15.
Yoshio watched Jack-san and the Clayton woman walk up to Eighth Avenue and turn downtown. He would have given much to have been able to overhear their conversation with the brother.
He followed them, slipping from shadow to shadow.
Perhaps I'm being overcautious, he thought.
Dressed as he was, he doubted Jack-san would recognize him even in full daylight. He had considered disguising himself as a sidewalk Santa. That might have worked in the more crowded streets, but would have made him more noticeable elsewhere. Reluctantly, he had settled on this alternative.
Still, he would take no chances. Watching the brother's house had been a long shot, but had paid off handsomely, and he wasn't going to squander this opportunity.
Now… if he could just keep up with them until they reached the place where one or both were staying. He was prepared to follow them anywhere, and with this disguise, even a subway trip would not deter him.
Only walking posed a problem…
Because these high heels were killing him.
16.
"Jack!" Gia said as he opened her front door. "What are you doing here?"
"Can I come in?"
"Sure."
She wore a quilted robe over a long flannel nightgown. As soon as the door closed behind him, Jack wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Gia returned the embrace and they stood entwined in her foyer for a long time.
"I needed this tonight, Gia," he said, absorbing her warmth. "Really needed it."
"What's the matter? What happened?"
"Stuff," he said. "Please don't ask me to talk about it."
After their nice little chat with her sweetheart of a brother, Jack had taken Alicia back to the town house, then he'd headed straight for home. But after a few subway stops, he'd changed his mind. He made a couple of unnecessary transfers to make sure he wasn't being tailed, then walked down Fifty-eighth to Gia's place on Sutton Square. She'd finally given up her apartment and moved into the elegant town house Vicky had inherited from her aunts.
He'd found that session with Alicia on the other side of town far more harrowing than some of the tight spots he'd got himself into over the years. Jack saw a lot of the underside of city life here, but he'd only heard about what Alicia had been through. And all the while as he'd sat there watching her shred those pictures and negatives and talking ninety miles an hour, he'd kept wondering if she might go blooey and start jamming her fingers into the shredder. But she'd held it together.
The whole thing had exhausted Jack, though.
Seeing those pictures, being in the same room with Thomas Clayton… the whole thing had left him feeling dirty. Pounding on the bastard's face a few times had helped him feel a little better, but Jack felt he couldn't end the day without seeing Gia.
He heard running footsteps and a little voice crying, "Jack-Jack-Jack!"
Vicky.
"What're you doing up?" he said, breaking free of Gia to catch Vicky as she leaped into his arms.
"Christmas vacation started today," she said. She threw her arms around his neck. "No school tomorrow! Isn't that neat?"
"As neat as can be," he said, hugging her.
He couldn't help but think of how Alicia had been about Vicky's age when her father… If anyone ever even thought of trying—' "Jack, you're holding me too tight," Vicky said.
"Sorry." He loosened his grip and stared at her innocent face. A sob nestled in his throat. His voice sounded thick as he pushed his words past it. "I just missed you, is all, and I can't tell you how glad I am you're up."
"She's got A Charlie Brown Christmas on for the umpteenth time," Gia said, watching him closely.
Still holding Vicky, Jack put an arm around Gia and pulled her close. Her sky-blue eyes asked if he was all right.
Jack shrugged and nodded. He was fine. His ladies, the two most important people in the world, were here with him, where he could watch over them and keep them safe. Everything was fine.
"Can I watch A Charlie Brown Christmas with you guys?" he said.
Vicky clapped her hands. "Yay!"
"Not again," Gia said, rolling her eyes.
"If nothing else, you've gotta love the music." They followed the scampering Vicky down the walnut-paneled halls to the library. Gia hadn't changed the place much yet, except maybe for removing the antimacassars from the velvet chairs. It took a whole twenty minutes of sitting snuggled between Gia and Vicky on an overstuffed settee before Jack felt clean enough to doze off.
17.
"So," Kemel said. "You've had all day to find out who this man is, and you have no idea."
Sam Baker looked flustered as Kemel watched him pace back and forth in the living room of his apartment. And well he should. He deserved to be more than flustered; he should look dejected and suicidally ashamed. Not only had he been made to look foolish by this nameless stranger, his bloated bonus was in serious jeopardy.
"It's like the guy doesn't fucking exist."
"Oh, he exists, Mr. Baker. The few remaining survivors of your team can attest to that."
"Yeah, but a guy with those kind of finely honed chops should have a rep, a name, a signature. People like me, or people I know, should have heard of him. He's obviously a merc, and if he's a merc, I should know him. Guys like that don't appear out of nowhere. They don't pop onto the street full grown. They gotta come up through the ranks. But not this guy. He's like some kinda ghost, coming out of the woodwork, fucking things up, then disappearing."
"I do not care about his name," Kemel said, controlling his anger. This man was such a fool. Why hadn't Nazer assigned him someone more competent? "I merely want you to deal with him."
"Can't deal with him if I can't find him."
"Perhaps he will find you."
He caught a flash of uncertainty before Baker's expression hardened. "I'm ready for him. I see him, he's dead."
"Let us hope so," Kemel said, and turned away.
He had spent an anxiety-ridden day, monitoring the news—a radio or television on in every room—waiting to hear the dreaded announcement of a revolutionary new power source that would change the world. But he had heard nothing. What was the American expression? No news is good news. Yes, in this case, that was most certainly so.
And the longer the span of no news, the better.
Dare I hope? he'd wondered.
If Alicia Clayton had proof of something so awe-inspiring as her father's technology, surely she would be acting on it. Surely she would be trumpeting it to the world.
The longer the silence, the more likely that she and her hireling—her "merc," as Baker called him—had found nothing in the house.