George R.R. Martin - [Wild Cards 18] (34 page)

“Oh. So, what’s that then?” Rustbelt asked.

“The British Secret Service.”

“Wally is an American,” Straight Arrow said shortly.

Rustbelt’s ponderous head, with its steam shovel jaws, swung between them.

“Ah, but we’re
such
good allies. You wouldn’t mind my poaching just a teensy bit?” Noel turned back to Rustbelt. “Think about it, old man. I could sign you up right now.”

“I thought you were a magician,” Rustbelt said in his absurd accent.

Noel laid a finger next to his nose. “Ah, that’s my cover, don’t you know. Travel to exotic locales, first-class accommodations. You’d love it.”

“Now that sounds like a heckuva deal.”

“He’s a
joker
,” Straight Arrow snapped.

With Rustbelt’s metal skin no blush was readable, but the hick shuffled his feet, setting up a tooth-grating shriek on the marble floor.

“Ace, Nephi, ace,” Noel reproved. “One might almost think you’re prejudiced.” Straight Arrow could blush. The blood washed into his face, turning his cheeks brick red.
Just one more little twist
, Noel thought. He laid a hand on Rustbelt’s shoulder. “No, Wally is an ace, and a very powerful one at that. You know, you’re far and away the most interesting ace in this mix. The others are all just flash and dazzle.”

“You should know,” Straight Arrow said, and the words had to fight to escape from between his clenched teeth.

Noel ignored the SCARE ace. “I think it’s a travesty that you were voted off so early, but jealousy, alas, is all too common. We should discuss this over a drink. They have a very nice bar at the Beverly Hills Hotel. We can get to know each other…better.”

“He’s not recruiting you,” Nephi warned Rustbelt. “He’s making fun of you, and you’re falling for it. Don’t be a rube.” The government ace drew in a sudden, audible breath, as if trying to suck back the words. But it was far too late. He might blame Noel, but it was Straight Arrow who had uttered the insult.

Rustbelt shifted from foot to foot and the big head drooped. “Oh, gosh—well, a guy should think about this. It’s all pretty confusing. It’s getting late, don’t you know, so I oughta head out. …” His voice trailed away and he bolted at a run for the doors to the restaurant. The marble cracked under his pounding feet.

The truth was that Straight Arrow had been trying to protect the young man. Nobility was always so easy to manipulate.

Nephi stared at Noel. “You are the very devil,” he finally said. Noel smiled and took a little bow. A reluctant smile briefly touched the American’s lips. “Flint should have had you in Cairo. You’re more evil and cunning than the Ikhlas al-Din. You might have prevented that mess developing in Egypt.”

It was one of those compliments that held a slap. Noel smiled. “And how do you know we didn’t engineer it?” he countered, but it was hollow, and Straight Arrow knew it.

By tacit agreement they left the lobby, stepped down the dead-end hallway that led to the restrooms, and into the men’s room. “Then you’d be incompetent instead of asleep at the switch.” Straight Arrow glanced quickly beneath the doors to the stalls. For the moment, they were alone. “There are reports of rioting in the joker quarter of Alexandria, and whispers of wholesale murder of the followers of the Old Religion in Port Said and the necropolis of Cairo.” He blew out a breath, and ran a hand through his graying hair. “I don’t know why the imams and mullahs are reacting so violently. It’s a totally made-up religion.”

“Aren’t they all?” Noel asked, and watched Straight Arrow’s lips thin. “And it’s not totally about religion. The Twisted Fists killed the Nur. The street is angry.”

“We’ve got some intelligence that suggests the Fists
weren’t behind the murder, but the new Caliph won’t believe anything
we
tell him.”

“I don’t expect Abdul will be in power for long. Prince Siraj and the other moderates will push him aside.”

“Will that stop the killing?”

Noel shrugged and leaned forward to study a blemish on his chin in the mirror over a sink. “Probably not, but at least we’ll have someone reasonable to deal with.” He decided that heat didn’t suit him. His normally crisp, wavy brown hair was limp, and his English rose complexion looked blotchy and red. Even his blue eyes were ringed with red from the Los Angeles pollution.

“God, you’re a calculating bastard.” Straight Arrow paused, then added, “You and the prince were at Cambridge together.”

Noel didn’t answer. It was clear the American knew that full well, and the more you talked the more you were likely to give up.

“Well, if you guys did engineer the assassination you might want to tell Siraj to get his fanny in gear. If things don’t calm down pretty quickly, we’re going to have to step in. We have our own interests to protect.”

Noel didn’t try to hide his derisive smile. “Oh, dear fellow, really, you shouldn’t. You Yanks are always so heavy-handed. Best you leave empire to those of us with real imperial experience. We’ll act, but after we have a little useless PR bleating from the UN secretary-general.”

“Jayewardene is going to the region?”

“Yes, Abdul the Idiot asked him to intervene.”

Straight Arrow shook his head. “He’s a very brave man.”

“No, he’s a predictable idiot.”

They heard footsteps approaching. Noel turned on a tap and washed his hands. Straight Arrow looked over at the urinals. “Well, as long as I’m here.”

“Yes, best you be busy or people might think we’re trysting.”

“Go away,” the American ace said in a muffled voice.

It was Michael Berman who entered. They danced a bit in the doorway. “Hey, nice work,” the producer said.

“Thank you. Did I ruin your ratings?” Noel asked.

“Nah. Nats secretly love to see aces getting their ass kicked. Especially when a nat does the kicking.”

Noel moved on.

“You’ve got my power, right?” Wild Fox asked. “You create illusions.”

Noel smiled enigmatically.

“You’re a short-range teleporter,” Curveball said. “Is that it?”

Noel took a sip from his crystal champagne flute. The bubbly puckered the edges of his tongue and danced in his sinuses. He was impressed. Given the age and class of most of the
American Hero
contestants, he’d expected Asti Spumante, or some other equally sweet crap.

“Nah, he’s a fucking shape-shifter,” Hardhat said. “It’s the only way he could look that fucking hot. I know broads, and he was a fucking broad.”

“No. No. And no. As to how I attracted you—I’m an inter-sexed individual,” Noel said, with a happy anticipation of Hardhat’s likely response.

“Huh? What the fuck is that?”

“A hermaphrodite.”

“Huh?”

“A person who has the sexual attributes of both a male and a female.”

“You gotta cock
and
a pussy?” Disgust and fascination—but definitely more fascination—laced Hardhat’s words.
Hmm
, thought Noel.
I can still be surprised
.

“Precisely.”

“Uh, I need a beer,” Wild Fox said. His eyes roamed desperately around the crowded room, and he sidled away.

“Whatever you are, you’re one cold
pendejo
,” Earth Witch said.

“And why would you say that?”

“You sacrificed all your henchmen.”

“They were expendable.”

“They were your men.”

“They were tools, and I wanted to win.”

“How did you win?” Wild Fox asked, drawn back despite his unease.

“Brains and cunning.”

“So you don’t have any powers?” Wild Fox challenged.

“You’re not listening.”

“He’s saying he beat us because we’re stupid.”

Noel just smiled again at Earth Witch’s bitter remark. Hardhat dropped a broad, heavy hand onto her shoulder and said, “Get the fuck over it, Ana. He knocked our dicks in the dirt fair and square.” Curveball gave him an ironic look. “Uh, boobs…uh?”

“You better quit while you’re ahead, T. T.,” the blonde said. She looked up and saw Drummer Boy bearing down on her determinedly. He had two of his four arms folded across his chest, and the fingers on his other two arms were snapping out a nervous rhythm. “Uh-oh.” It was meant to be under her breath, but Noel heard it. She darted away while Earth Witch tried to intercept the rock-and-roll star.

Noel drifted over to the buffet table, where he grazed and observed. Earth Witch had failed in her attempted block, so Curveball was sprinting around the perimeter of the Warner Brothers restaurant with Drummer Boy stalking after her, taking one step to every two of hers. While Noel languidly consumed an egg roll, they made three complete circuits of the room.

In another corner, sex—rather than determined virginity—was decidedly in the air. Berman leaned against the wall while Jade Blossom, Pop Tart, and Tiffani all preened and vamped. He looked like a man at a buffet, savoring his choices.

“Hey, magician.” The words were strongly accented with the distant echoes of Spain filtered through Mexico and the American barrio. Rosa Loteria stood hip shot in front of him. There was no flirt here; the blue eyes flashed a challenge at him. She clutched her antique deck of
loteria
cards in a hand.

“My dear.” Noel gave her a bow.

“You can cut the sophisticated European crap,” she said.

Noel found himself smiling. “All right, what can I do for you?”

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward the Candle. His multicolored flames waved languidly around his head like a psychedelic halo. “That
pendejo
motherfucker” (Noel reflected that there seemed to be a lot of
pendejos
present tonight) “has been giving me rafts of shit because I drew
Los Platanos
during the challenge.”

The back of Noel’s mind supplied the translation—the Bananas.

“Yes, I can see how that would be rather less than useful.” He reached out and took the deck from her. It was old, probably Napoleonic, and very beautiful. Noel began shuffling the cards. “And you want to learn how to do this—” and after each shuffle he flipped out
La Muerta
over and over again. The opulently dressed female skeleton looked coy, as if she knew a secret. Noel found his thoughts going back to his conversation with Straight Arrow, and the situation in Egypt.

“Yeah. That’s what I want,” Rosa agreed.

Noel gave her back the cards. “I expect I could teach you, and with practice you could probably become quite proficient, but I foresee some problems. It would be unwieldy to mark all the cards, and you would be tying yourself to the most lethal of your manifestations. Depending on the circumstance, you might want a different power. To pull Death all the time might be coming on a little too strong, don’t you know? Also, this is the crutch on which you hang your power.” Noel tapped the deck of cards with a manicured forefinger. “Would you actually be able to transform if you knew you were cheating? You are Rosa Loteria, the Lottery Rose. If you removed the element of chance …” Noel let his voice trail away and raised his eyebrows.

The girl’s brows snapped together in a ferocious frown. “I can’t risk losing my powers.”

“I would reach the same decision.”

“Well, crap!” She walked away, trailing Spanish like a kite tail of profanity.

Noel fixed on a vapid smile and went strolling. There was a lot of conversation about the concluded Rogue Ace Challenge,
but another thread of conversation wove like a line of bright sparks throughout the party.

“… burned to the ground.” Said with breathless excitement by Diver.

“That idiot Bugsy will be behind it.” Said with Southern ice by Tiffani.

“… Peregrine’s
fuuurious
with Simoon.” Said by Pop Tart, with that tickle of enjoyment at getting to observe anger and not be on the receiving end.

“… didn’t find any bodies.” Said with a thread of disappointment by Jade Blossom.

“… insane with worry.” Said with compassion by the Amazing Bubbles.

“Of course, he’s her itty witty baby boy.” Said with just the right amount of disdain by Rosa Loteria.

Women are always so dependable when you need news
. Noel lifted another glass of champagne off a passing tray. He glanced over at Peregrine, and indeed the famous joker’s smile kept jumping back into place as people walked up to talk to her. Otherwise, her eyes glittered with anger, and a strained frown ridged her forehead. Occasionally, she darted a cold glance at Simoon. Noel recalled the girl’s biography: daughter of one of the Egyptian jokers who had sought sanctuary at the Luxor hotel in Las Vegas, she had a second-rate power. Wind powers had always seemed faintly silly to Noel. Of more concern was her connection to Egypt—however tenuous. He decided to find out more.

Noel moved to Peregrine, lifted her hand, and brushed his lips lightly across the back. “Thank you, dear lady. It actually did end up being quite a deal of fun.”

Peregrine’s smile was pinned back in place. “I doubt the Hearts would agree. You defeated them pretty soundly.”

Noel looked over at Simoon. He allowed his expression to shift to grave and disapproving, then nodded sagely. The young woman clasped her hands and stared intently at Noel and Peregrine. High color burned in her cheeks. He inclined his head once more toward Peregrine as she said, “The weather certainly was beastly. Damn Santa Ana.” Noel once again looked over to Simoon and frowned. She came boiling
out of the chair and crossed the room with a stiff-legged walk, until she stood directly in front of Peregrine.