Jokers Wild Page 0,69

last aces the Astronomer had lured in was a Puerto Rican kid who he called Imp. He could generate an electromagnetic pulse that neutralized all electricity within fifty yards or so. The cameras and other equipment on the Turtle's shell were so much junk now.

Imp maneuvered his glider back over the Turtle. The wind was slowing him down, making him climb. Longshoremen were setting down their crates, looking out at the river. Moments later the shell was covered in an explosion of orange flame. Napalm. The boom echoed off the water. As the flames began to die down, Spector could see that parts of the shell were on fire. The Turtle began to wobble even more, and fell toward the river. There was a loud slap and hiss as the shell struck the water. One of the nearby boats steered toward the Turtle. The shell floated for a second, then sank fast, like there were pulleys at the bottom of the river dragging it down. There was nothing left but a little steam on the surface of the river.

"Jesus. Who would've thought it could be so easy." Spector felt his skin tighten. It was a safe bet that the Astronomer had watched the Turtle go down, just like he had. The other aces weren't going to be much help. The Astronomer was knocking them off one by one. They'd only beaten him before because they'd been organized and had taken the old man by surprise. It was the other way around today. Spector heard approaching sirens. He turned and ran.

"We saw it on TV," Hiram told Fortunato. "First the Howler, then the Kid. It was dreadful, unbelievable." Fortunato nodded, uncomfortable in the crowded office. Hiram's chef was there, his bouncer, a couple of the waiters.

Modular Man came over from where he'd been leaning by the window. "Hello," he said to Jane. "I don't know if you remember me. Modular Man? You can call me Mod Man for short."

Jane nodded to him, brushing him off "You don't need me here," she said to Fortunato. "You're trying to hide me someplace where I'll be out of your hair."

"That's not true," Fortunato lied. "You've seen the Astronomer. You know more than anybody how powerful he is. The only hope we have is strength in numbers. All of us, together, in one place."

"All of us? You included?"

" I have to find the others. This is my karma, okay? My responsibility."

"You don't have to do it alone, you know. It's not a crime to let somebody help you." Fortunato didn't say anything. "I ... oh, hell. Why am I wasting my breath? But one thing. If you leave me here, and somebody dies, or gets hurt, that I could have saved, I'm not going to let you forget it. Understand?"

"I can live with that," Fortunato said.

Hiram followed him into the hall. "Uh, Fortunato? Can I see you a second?" Fortunato nodded and Hiram shut the door. "I got a call a few minutes ago. From a Lieutenant Altobelli, NYPD. Looking for you."

"What did he have?"

"He wouldn't say, but he said he needed you at the Cloisters, ASAP"

"Okay, well, that's next then."

"Fortunato?"

"What?"

"What about Tachyon?"

"What about him?"

"Isn't the Astronomer after him too?"

"Fuck him."

"Would it be okay if I at least warned him?"

"I don't care," Fortunato said. "Just as long as you don't do anything stupid and don't go off and leave the people I'm bringing here. I'm counting on you, man. Don't fuck up."

"Right," Hiram said cheerlessly.

Fortunato's elevator came. He pressed I and jiggled the Door Close button.

The smell of hot pretzels made Spector's stomach rumble. Other than a few peanuts at the Bottomless Pit, he hadn't eaten all day. He walked over to the stand. The vendor was a short, middle-aged man in a light blue shirt and black beltless pants. He smiled at Spector, showing crooked yellow teeth. He wore a button that said PRETZEL VENDORS KNOW HOW TO GET TWISTED.

"What can I do for you?"

"Give me a pretzel. Make it two."

The vendor pulled out the pretzels and wrapped them absent-mindedly. "Boy, I'll tell you. It would be fine by me if every day was Wild Card Day. I could retire and play the horses."

Spector took the pretzels and paid him. The vendor had the kind of dim, simple-minded dreams only losers have. Spector was beyond even having dreams anymore. He just killed people and occasionally wondered why it didn't bother him more.

He took a large bite of the pretzel. It was warm and chewy.