Busted Flush

He and Tom gave each other hard grins. Tom may’ve been like that with Nshombo. It didn’t mean he had to go sucking up to him like Fortune did. He appreciated Brave Hawk’s disrespect for authority. Even if he’d be smart not to push it here in the PPA.

Nshombo ignored the crudity. He gazed intently at the delegation’s young leader. Despite modern A/C Fortune’s forehead shone with sweat. It made the strange bulge gleam in the fluorescent light.

Fortune’s eyes flared. He clenched a fist and raised it. “We’ll—”

He cut off. He unwound his hand, dropped it behind his back, as if it suddenly embarrassed him. In a less clotted voice he said, “We’ll have to study the situation carefully before committing to a course of action. A lot’s at stake here. And Nigeria’s not the first country to hire a dodgy mercenary ace.”

Tom smiled a slow smile and glanced at Nshombo. The president’s face showed no more emotion than the polished teak idol it resembled. But if he’d been a betting man, he would’ve just lost to Tom Weathers.

Tom stooped and opened a red and white cooler that sat discreetly against a wall. A wisp of dry-ice fog puffed out. He took out a white plastic garbage bag. It was full of lumpy, pokey objects.

“Here’s what’s at stake here, man,” Tom said, handing it to Fortune. “See for yourself what we’re up against.”

Its weight caught the slick Committee ace off guard. He’d forgotten how strong Tom was. Fortune fumbled the bag and it fell open, spilling its contents down his pants and across the floor.

“Fuck!” he yelled.

Snowblind screamed.

It was a bag of severed hands, their dark skin gone ashen.

“Daddy! Oh, I want my daddy!”

Sun Hei-lian prided herself on her ability to keep cool under the most demanding circumstances. Being interrupted while concentrating so intently snapped her equally well-honed survival reflexes into play against her. Startled, she jumped up from elbows and knees.

Tom slid out of her. She bounced on her bare buttocks on his disordered bed.

“It’s all right, honey,” said Tom from his knees behind Hei-lian. “I’m here.”

Sprout’s hair was disarrayed, her eyes puffy with tears. She wore an oversized Hello Kitty T-shirt that came down almost to her knees and clutched a well-worn teddy bear to her breasts.

Lying supine to receive Hei-lian’s ministrations, Lilith raised her head from her pillow with one brow raised. “And what might this be?”

“My daughter,” Tom said. “She’s—special. You know.”

“I see. Does she often burst in under such . . . circumstances?”

“Hey. Sex is a natural thing.”

But Hei-lian noted he swept up the sheet to cover his rampant erection and turned away as he folded the woman weeping into his arms, so as not to give her an inappropriate prod in the flank. He also left both women completely uncovered.

“I had a bad dream,” Sprout sobbed. “I want my daddy.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tom said. “You got the world’s greatest ace right here. I’ll always be here for you.”

Sprout buried her face in his shoulder. Tom embraced her, stroking her long blond hair with genuine tenderness.

To muster such modesty as was available to her with minimum commotion Hei-lian lay down on her belly. Now that the passion-spasm had been broken she felt glad enough for a break.

Her mind whirled with thoughts. There was the odd phrasing Sprout had used—twice saying she wanted her daddy, when he was right here in front of her. But that struck her as a likely product of the creature’s retardation. One could read nothing into it.

What stuck in her mind, though, was the stricken look in Lilith’s silver eyes as she watched Tom Weathers comforting his daughter like any loving father.

“So,” Lilith said, “however did a Western man of mystery wind up warlord of a Central African revolutionary movement?”

The lovemaking was done. Hei-lian was glad. Although the pleasure had been seismic she was both exhausted and sore. And now that the passion had subsided she felt a certain shame at what she had done.

You’ve done worse for the People’s Republic, she reminded herself.

She raised herself to prop elbow on bed and cheek on palm and gazed with half-lidded eyes across the golden length of Tom Weathers in the light of the bedside lamp. He lay on his back with hands linked behind his glorious halo of hair. Sweat didn’t seem to dampen its spirits. Hei-lian wondered if that was another facet of his ace. He certainly displayed a remarkable array of powers.

On his other side Lilith lay in similar pose, all silver skin and gleaming midnight hair. She had asked her question lightly, almost teasingly.

Hei-lian kept her expression neutral. She was skilled at that. She felt a visceral dislike for the other woman. Even though she still had the smell of her on her upper lip.

It’s not jealousy, she told herself. That’s personal sentiment. This is national security.