room, gazing out the window at Jokertown laid out before him like a pustular sore on the body of Manhattan. Was it age or depression, or had the vista actually grown shabbier and dirtier over the past twenty-five years? "It's so ugly," Tachyon murmured.
"You just noticed?" Jay's tone offered no comfort. Tach turned to face him.
"Perhaps I have less stomach for it now"
"Then you better get a barf bag because what I've got to tell you doesn't qualify as pretty" Jay pulled out a notebook, flipped it open, and began to read. His voice had lost much of its joking edge. "Blaise is running with a jumper gang."
The desk chair was a welcome support to legs suddenly gone shaky. Tach longed to clasp his hands, but the plastic monstrosity at the end of his right arm offered no comfort. Instead, his left hand cupped his right elbow, both arms drawn protectively across his aching stomach.
"Ideal ... now he's far too powerful."
"It gets better. He also has ties to the Shadow Fists...." Tach's head jerked up. Jay didn't miss the reaction. "Got friends there too?" asked Jay dryly. Tach mutely shook his head, waved to Ackroyd to continue. "Look, Tachyon, you haven't got a priest, and if you can't trust your private dick, who the hell can you trust?"
"No one," said Tachyon softly.
Jay watched him for a moment longer, then shrugged and resumed. "While running with the jumpers, your charming grandson has engaged in the usual round of fun--beatings, muggings, robberies, nights on the town courtesy of the victim's credit card." Jay hesitated.
Tach leapt on it, imperious and demanding. "What?"
"Everything seems to point to Blaise being the jumper who took over Ira Greenstein's body, and--"
"I know what happened to him." His tone was shrill. Tach regained control of his voice. "Ira has been my tailor for twenty years. How many other people whom I have patronized are in jeopardy?"
"You know Blaise better than I do."
"No, I only thought I did."
"The alien delinquent has graduated from brutality. He's in the big leagues now-murder. Couple of my sources say he blew away a small-time Shadow Fist soldier named Christian."
"Murder's not new to Blaise. He killed when he was in that revolutionary cell in France."
"No, he mind-controlled other people to kill. It's a big step to holding the gun yourself. I personally wouldn't know-I hate the fucking things-but for Blaise it's a turn-on. He kills for fun and kicks, and likes every moment of it. That was the one thing my informants agreed on. That, and that they were terrified of the little bastard."
"Is he ... is he in Manhattan?" Tach hated himself for the hesitation that made his voice as ragged as a broken saw. It revealed his fear, and he didn't like to admit, even to himself, that he was afraid of his grandson.
"No, I think he's based on the Rox, but he and his gang of delinquents make raids into the city."
"You think?"
Jay correctly interpreted the added emphasis on the final word as censure. "Look, you hired me to get information on the kid, not recover him. And while I'm not a coward, I'm also not stupid. People who go to the Rox generally don't come back."
"And if I hired you to bring him back?"
"I'd say no. I'm a private eye, not a one-man commando unit."
For a long time they sat in silence. It was hard for Tachyon to ask the question that was battering impatiently at the back of his teeth. Over the years he had been threatened by enemies far more terrifying than Blaise-the Astronomer, the Swarm, Hartmann. Why, then, was he so afraid? Or did a surfeit of love translate into a greater sense of betrayal and terror when that love died?
"Am I in danger?"
They locked eyes. "I don't know. Given your past history, yeah, you're probably in danger. You imprisoned his father, and killed his guardian, sacrificed his tutor to save your neck. Not to mention dressing him in puce and lace-"
"You also bear some responsibility in this. What about Atlanta, when he was possessed by that creature? He mindcontrolled that poor joker, made him tear himself to pieces."
Jay shrugged. "Okay, neither one of us are prime candidates for father of the year. The point is, what he thinks will hurt you most. Maybe he'll just be content to fuck over everyone around you."
Tachyon stood, began to pace. "I can't live with that burden."
"I don't see that you've got any choice."
"There must be some other option."
"I can