Ace in the Hole - By George R. R. Martin Page 0,50

person to mouth sympathy but not to act on it.

The joker prejudice was real. The black prejudice was real. With or without Puppetman, Jackson would not become president even if he managed to get the nomination.

Not this year. Not yet.

It was something Gregg dared not say in public, but he also knew that Jackson was well aware of the fact, no matter what the man might say. So Gregg had let Jackson go his own way. In a way, it had made for a more interesting primary campaign.

Now, with Puppetman wailing inside and far too unreliable to let loose again, Gregg was forced to admit that it might have been a mistake. It would have made things much easier now.

The Reverend Jackson sat across the room from Gregg in a voluminous leather armchair, his legs crossed over impeccably pressed black pants, his expensive silk tie knotted tightly around his throat. Around the Jackson campaign suite, his aides pretended not to watch. Two of Jackson's sons flanked the reverend on wooden chairs.

"Barnett is making a mockery of the joker's Rights plank," Gregg was saying. "He's diluting the impact by dragging in every special interest group he can think of. The trouble is that alone, I can't stop him."

Jackson pursed his lips, tapped them with a forefinger. "You come asking for my help now, Senator, but once the platform fight is over, it will be business as usual. As much as I disagree with the Reverend Barnett on basic issues, I understand the political reality. The Joker's Rights plank is your child, Senator. Without that plank's passage, you'll hardly appear to be a very effective leader for the country. After all, it's your own fundamental issue and you can't even make your own party listen."

Jackson looked almost pleased at the prospect.

I can take care of that. Just let me out ...Puppetman was angry, irritated. The power pushed at its restraints, wanting to lash out at the self-confident Jackson.

Leave me alone. Just for a few minutes. Let me get through this.

Gregg shoved the power back down, leaning back in his seat to cover the momentary inner conflict. Jackson was watching him, very carefully, very intently. The man had a predator's eyes, mesmerizing and dangerous. Gregg could feel sweat starting on his brow, and he knew Jackson noticed it as well.

" I'm not concerned with the nomination at the moment," Gregg said, ignoring Puppetman. "I'm concerned with helping the jokers, who have experienced the same prejudice as your own people."

Jackson nodded. An aide brought a tray over to the coffee table between them. "Iced tea? No? Very well." Jackson took a sip from his own glass and set it down again. Gregg could see the man thinking, gauging, wondering.

And with me you could truly know. You could control those feelings...

Be quiet.

You need me, Greggie. You do.

Intent on keeping Puppetman down, he missed the next few words. "... rumor is that you've been pushing your people very hard, Senator. You have even angered some of them. I've heard tales about instability, about a repeat of '76." Gregg flushed, started to retort heatedly, and then realized he was being goaded. This was exactly the reaction Jackson was trying to provoke. He forced himself to smile. "We're all used to a certain amount of mudslinging, Reverend. And yes, I've been pushing hard. I always push when I believe in something strongly."

"And the accusation makes you angry." Jackson smiled and waved a hand. "Oh, I know the feeling, Senator. In fact, I have the very same reaction when people question my work for civil rights. I'd expect it." He steepled his hands under his chin and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Just what is it you want, Senator?"

"A Joker's Rights plank. Nothing more."

"And how do you propose to buy my support?"

"I had hoped you would agree purely for the sake of the jokers. On humanitarian grounds."

"I feel deeply for the jokers, believe me, Senator. But I also know that a plank in a platform is just so many words. A platform commits no one to anything. I will fight for the rights of all oppressed people, with or without planks. I did not promise my people planks. I promised them I would do my best to win at this convention, and I am doing just that. I do not need a plank; you do."

Jackson reached for the glass again. He sipped, waiting and watching.

"All right," Gregg said at last. "I've talked with deVaughn and Logan on this. If