his neck and shoulders relax, and with a sigh he lifted a finger and ordered a full American breakfast.
Tachyon had looked funny. Fork moved mechanically from plate to mouth. Holding himself real stiff. Folded newspaper along his thigh like a soldier on dress parade. None of his business what the bastard was getting up to.
But last night was his business.
Anger ate through his belly like a physical pain. Sure the bomb couldn't have hurt him, but he took my mind. Casually, like a man tasting a mint. Reducing him in an instant from man to object.
Jack mopped up the last of the yolk while anger and outrage grew. God damn it! It was stupid to be scared of a pint-size fairy in fancy dress.
Not scared, Jack's mind quickly amended. He'd stayed away from the alien out of politeness, an acknowledgment of how much Tachyon hated him. But now Tachyon had changed the rules. He'd taken his mind. That he wasn't going to allow to pass.
They looked like two little red mouths. Bullet in, bullet out. Tach, seated in his undershorts, jabbed in a hypodermic, depressed the plunger, waited for the painkiller to take effect. Just for good measure he'd given himself a tetanus shot and an injection of penicillin. Spent hypos littered the table, a gauze pad lay ready, a roll of cotton. . But for the moment he would let it seep. And do some hard thinking.
So Danelle had not lied. She had just not told all. Gisele was dead. The question was, how? Or did that matter? Probably not. What mattered was that she had married and borne a son. My grandson. And he had to be found.
And the father? Well, what of him? Assuming he was still alive, he was no fit guardian for the boy. The father-or unknown others-were manipulating this Takisian gift to spread terror.
So where to start? Undoubtedly at Danelle's apartment. Then to the hall of records to search for the marriage license and birth certificate.
But that attack on Danelle and himself had been no accident. They, whoever they were, were watching. So, however distasteful, he was going to have to make an effort to blend in.
Braun spent a few moments dithering in the hall. But outrage won over prudence. He tested the door, found it locked, gave a hard twist, and broke the knob. Stepped over the threshold and froze in astonishment at the sight of Tachyon, scissors at the ready, seated in the midst of a circle of snipped red locks.
The Takisian gaped back, a final hank of that improbable hair clutched in a hand.
"How dare you!"
"What in the hell are you doing?"
As their first exchange in almost forty years, it seemed to lack something.
In quick flicks like the shuttering of a camera, the rest of the scene came into focus. Jack's forefinger shot out. "That's a bullet wound."
"Nonsense." The gauze was laid quickly over the white thigh with its peppering of red-gold hairs. "Now get out of my room."
"Not until I have some answers out of you. Who the hell has been shooting at you?" He snapped his fingers. "The bomb at Versailles. You've got a line into the people-"
"NO!" Far too quick and far too strong. "Have you told the authorities?"
"There is no need. This is not a bullet wound. I know nothing of the terrorists." The scissors sawed viciously through the last piece of hair. It fluttered to the floor, ironically forming a shape very reminiscent of a question mark.
"Why are you cutting your hair?"
"Because I feel like it! Now get out before I take your mind and make you go."
"You do, and I'll come back and break your damn neck. You've never forgiven me-"
"You have that right!"
"You threw a goddamm bomb at me!"
"Unfortunately I knew it wouldn't hurt you."
The long slender fingers played about his cropped head, fluttering among the curls until they clustered about his face. It had the effect of making him appear suddenly very young.
Braun stepped in on him, rested his hands on either arm of the chair, effectively trapping Tachyon. "This tour is important. If you get up to some crazy stunt, it could damage everybody's reputation. You I don't give a damn about, but Gregg Hartmann is important."
The alien looked away and gazed woodenly out the window. Despite being clad only in shirt and shorts he managed to make it seem regal.
"I'll go to Hartmann."
There was a flicker of alarm deep in the lilac eyes, quickly suppressed. "Fine, go. Anything to be rid