caught was the brittle edges of the passing thoughts. The flavor of conspiracy.
"They were all standing out there waving their dicks at each other. I was just giving them the opportunity to prove how tough they were. That stupid, ugly joker was trying to wimp out-"
"SHUT UP!" Even Tachyon jumped at the fury and command in the Russian's voice. Polyakov turned his back on the red-faced boy. "The preambulations of an adolescent, superpowered Caligula are not the problem. The problem is Henry Chaiken."
"Fascinating. And who by the Ideal is Henry Chaiken?"
"An AP reporter who used to be stationed overseas. He recognized me as Victor Demyenov, reporter for Tass."
"Blood and Ancestors." Tach's knees felt weak, and he felt for the edge of the bed, sat down hard.
"Naturally the police-"
Frustrated with the slow unraveling of the story, Tachyon snatched the memory from his grandson's mind.
The street flanking Piedmont Park. Glancing down to see the dusty footprints left by his tennis shoes on the hood of the car. The circle of sweating faces surrounding the little tableau. Mouths stretched with excitement, eyes glistening. Shrugging off George's clutching hands.
"Come on. Come on! Put your money down. Not on an ugly joker he's going to get creamed."
The cop giving a convulsive jerk as Blaise twitched the cord binding the human to the quarter-Takisian child.
"He's not going to help the joker. He hates them too. I know. I'm in his head."
"Soon after an army of police arrived, and Blaise discovered the limit to his power," continued Polyakov, not realizing that Tachyon had read it all.
A chill, like an icy finger, traced down his back as Tach considered that at the end Blaise had been controlling nine people. Tachyon's limit was three for full control, and that took a tremendous toll on mind and body. Nine. And he was only thirteen. And I've been training him. His eyes met the flat implacable gaze of the sullen boy.
"Chaiken was an interested spectator to all of this, and he found it interesting that my current identification did not match his memory of me. I gave them a story about changing my name as I changed my life, but if they are not complete fools they will check."
"Your papers?"
"Are very good, but a question to the wrong place. A photo shown to the wrong man..." Polyakov shrugged expressively.
"You have to get out of here. Out of the country. If you need money I'll give it to you-"
"No. I came here to do a thing. I will not leave."
"What about me!"
"You don't matter any more than I do. What I do I do out of a perhaps pathetic belief in an ideal. A familiar concept to you, Tachyon. You curse with it, believe in it. We're not so very different. We both have our honor. Unfortunately, it is always purchased with blood."
There was again that fleeting glance between the Russian and Blaise. Tachyon slipped beneath the teenager's imperfect shields.
"You may not use Blaise. I forbid it!"
An infinitesimal arch of the eyebrows. Polyakov's mouth twisted in a slight, bitter smile.
"I'll do whatever Uncle George wants," shrilled Blaise. "I will kill you first," said Tachyon, eyes locking with the Russian's.
"I'm not your enemy, Dancer. He is." A pudgy forefinger thrust at the ceiling, and the Hartmann suite seven floors above.
8:00 P.M.
Standing with the fronds of a fern falling across his face like bangs, Mackie Messer watched Sara and the big fuck leave the restaurant.
She'd been keeping him at bay all day, keeping to the crowds, never letting him have a shot at her alone. He'd thought surely she'd go to the room she shared with the nigger to take a shower; women were crazy about keeping clean. He'd never seen Psycho, so he didn't realize that was the last thing a woman of Sara's generation would do in circumstances like these.
The memory of offing the natty nigger made his lips smile. It had felt good, his hand on bone. But the rush had faded. He was hungry. He hadn't spotted Sara till midmorning, over in the joker park. He hadn't even had a chance to phase into some restaurant's kitchen and rip off a bite to eat. Hunger was feeding the frustrated anger that had been building in him all day.
The bitch. I have to kill her. I can't let the Man down. He was going to have to do something soon, something violent, to let out all that feeling.
And now she and her new boyfriend headed for the elevators, arm in arm.