Busted Flush

“We can’t lose that oil. Bruckner would be very upset if he couldn’t run his truck.” It’s part of my persona that I keep everything light and rather sarcastic, but in truth I feel a surge of very real fear that cuts through the fog of exhaustion that seems to enfold me. What if there wasn’t gas to run the ambulances? What if I wasn’t around and Mum couldn’t get Dad to the hospital?

“And now the damn UN and the Committee are getting involved.” Flint actually rises from his chair. Even with the reinforced floor I feel the wood flexing and trembling as he walks to join me at the window. “You must reduce their effectiveness. Separate them from Jayewardene. The UN with an army of aces is a distressing development and the secretary-general seems very eager to use them.”

“Look, it would be rather bad form for me to remove Jayewardene, but Nshombo . . .” I allow my voice to trail away suggestively. “I could pay a little visit to Kongoville.”

“His sister would only take his place. He’s a true believer in his Socialist Paradise and murderous in pursuit of his beliefs, but she is a sadist and would be much worse. Also, the real power there is this ace, Tom Weathers. He has an alarming array of powers. Any one of them would be potent. Taken together . . .” He pauses. “I think he may well be the most powerful ace in the world.”

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my case, remove a cigarette, and tap it on the lid. The silver gives back a distorted image of my face. “That may be, but I’m betting a bullet in the back would still kill him.”

“It may come to that, but not just yet. If the ruling class in Kongoville starts dying while they’re locked in a dispute with us . . .”

“Right you are. Clean hands, plausible deniability, and all that.”

“Is there any way for you to break up this Committee?”

“I’m trying, but I only have nights. And not every night because Noel Matthews also has a life as a stage magician.”

“I thought Lilith does her best work at night.” It’s bizarre hearing ponderous sexual innuendo from those stone lips.

“Yes, well, but I can only fuck so many men a night, and my choices are a little limited. But if Lohengrin and DB were to go after each other . . .” The image is irresistible—Lohengrin’s sword against DB’s sonic attack. It would be an interesting match-up. “It wouldn’t be hard. Men are so predictable.”

Flint cocks his head in query. “Only because you are playing the slut. Why do you do that? Is that how you view women? And you’re not very charitable toward men, either.”

“Yes, but I hate people. They are universally such shits.”

“Hmmm.” And then Flint is back to Africa. “Try to get posted to Africa. That way we can control the information coming back.”

All this talk of controlling information and stopping an investigation finally registers in my sleep-deprived mind. “We’re sure nothing is going on in the Niger Delta . . .”

“Perfectly sure. And we will not allow the PPA to invade on a pretext.”

“And if they do?”

“They’ll be dealt with.”

The room has a sour, musty smell. I want to open the window, but it’s a raw day with wind and rain squalls. Dad’s breath seems to rattle in his chest, and his skin looks gray. I need to keep him warm.

I shouldn’t be here. I should be in New York with Lohengrin. But I had to come home. Even though I canceled dinner I can still teleport into Lohengrin’s bed. He’d probably prefer that. To be fair the big German ace doesn’t begrudge the money he spends on me. God knows, he’s got enough with all his product endorsements.