and covered herself. She was wearing only her bra. "Into the shower, quick! Don't come out, and by the way, you rent by the hour." The alien was propelling her toward the bathroom door, unsnapping her bra as they went.
Heavy footfalls were coming down the hall at a run. Polyakov's gray eyes were calm, fatalistic. "There's no time."
"Yes, there is. Jay will get you out of Atlanta. For the gods' sake, Blaise, move!"
The water thundered on. Polyakov gently sat the boy aside.
"Open up! Open the goddamn door!" Tachyon recognized Billy Ray's voice.
"Now!" he hissed urgently to the detective. Ackroyd formed his fingers into a gun. Polyakov vanished. There was an audible pop as the air rushed back into the space formally occupied by a body.
Tachyon leaped across the room, seized the bottle of vodka on the dresser, ripped open his collar, and in a long, low dive threw himself onto the bed.
The door blew open, splinters flying across the room as Billy Ray bulled through. Jay shielded Blaise with his body, and Tach covered his face. The Justice Department ace had a gun, a .44 magnum. Tachyon stared down the barrel. It yawned like a cave's mouth.
"All right. Where is he? Where the fuck is he?"
"Huuuh?" asked Jay.
"Asshole!"
Ray stiff-armed the detective, and Ackroyd went down. Rav tore the closet door off its hinges, and flung down the clothes. Glanced beneath the bed, headed for the bathroom door. Tachyon crossed his fingers, and prayed to whatever ancestors might be lurking nearby.
"Get out of there. Now!"
Sara's voice floated over the rush of falling water. Clearly female. Heavily Southern. Tachyon prayed that he was the only one who heard the panic underlying the words.
"Wal, sugah, how many you boys there gonna be?"
The shower curtain rasped back. Sara screamed. For a long moment there was silence from the bathroom. The sharp report of a slap. Ray re-entered the room the pale pink imprint of a palm already fading from his cheek, the front of his white uniform wet from the thundering water.
Breathing heavily, he said, "He was here. That goddamn Russian was here."
Jay looked to Tach. "Russian? I don't see any Russian. Do you see a Russian? And sweetcheeks in there sure don't sound Russian. Russian costs you extra." He grinned at the outraged ace.
"Why did you try to get away from me?"
Tachyon sighed, took a long pull on the bottle. "Because I was afraid you were the press, and I didn't want to be found visiting a prostitute."
"You always take a kid?" He gestured at Blaise with the .44.
"Could you put the gun away? It makes me nervous when you wave it around like that. Most fatal shootings are accidental, you know."
Ray glared at him. "This wouldn't be an accident. Answer the fucking question."
With a delicate clearing of the throat Tachyon said, "Well, that is the matter in a nutshell. It's time the boy learned." He glanced about the motel room. "This lacks the ambience that I could wish, but she is very good. I tried her myself last night. Of course, nothing can compare with the woman my father gave to me on my fourteenth birthday-"
Ray stormed back through the shattered door. "Fourteen? No kidding?"
"Oh Ackroyd, please!"
12:00 NOON
"You call the press conference," Jack told him. "The press hasn't seen you for days. If I call them, they might not show up. "
Barnett had agreed.
Jack watched the convention while the plans went forward. Hartmann had clearly lost all momentum. Totals changed on every ballot. The only steady factor was Barnett's slow advance, gaining with every step as the opposition began to disintegrate. Rodriguez looked poleaxed every time he announced California's changing delegate count. Jack's heart went out to him.
The press conference was arranged in one of the hotel's function spaces, the place Barnett used as a press office. Jack managed to down two more Bloody Marys before the business began.
Fleur spoke first, standing behind a podium crowned with a forest of network microphones. Jack and Barnett stood off to one side as Fleur went through a long round of mike tests.
She kept casting Jack sidelong glances throughout. Obviously she didn't trust him an inch.
Even hidden behind his Hollywood shades, Jack felt naked.
"Before the Reverend Barnett's announcement," Fleur said, "there will be another brief announcement from someone who may be a surprise to you. I'm referring to Mr. Jack Braun, the head of Senator Hartmann's California delegation, also known as Golden Boy."
Jack didn't smile or wave as he stepped to the podium. Microphones jabbed