Last Call (Last Call 1)

The Hanari body, suddenly expressionless, took a step backward to catch its balance.

"No!" screamed Doctor Leaky in sudden panic, "not this, I love life, my love life? Love wife? Burned up my Chevrolet, took my boy away from me, my wife did." He was breathing deeply, with his eyes closed, and Crane could see that the old man had wet his pants again. "I won't sink in this," shouted the Doctor Leaky body, "I can gather my thoughts." Again he was silent, and Crane was afraid Leon might actually be able to exert the broken, senile brain and jump back into the now blank-eyed Hanari. "I will gather the—the—I know what—the cards, I spilled them. Well, really I threw them."

The Amino Acid was gaping around, his hand on the butt of his holstered revolver.

"Go sit down," Crane told him. The young man nodded and went back to the bar and sat on one of the stools.

"You—I've got it, I've got it," shouted Doctor Leaky, his eyes still screwed shut. "I can … push—" He grinned suddenly and blinked around, until he saw the Hanari body still standing across the room from him. "No, goddamn son of a bitch charged me, what was it? Two hundred dollars! For a used engine, in '45, or wait, no, that's right, '45. I—I made my—my displeasure clear, I assure you. Of that."

Crane stared at the frantic wheelchair-bound body, and he realized that this was the first time in more than twenty years that his father's mind had been in his father's body. This thrashing old man was his complete father, whole again.

Crane clenched his fists and forced himself not to run over to the wheelchair and hug the man. Remember Ozzie, he told himself. Ozzie was your true father. This man you still love so much killed Ozzie.

Doctor Leaky was subsiding into giggles again. "Do you think that boy cried?" He frowned suddenly and looked around, as if at a crowd of debaters. "Never! I cut the hook out of his finger and he never cried …"

Crane pushed past the blinking, mindless Art Hanari and crossed to the big round card table. Bending down, he reached out with both hands and swept the Tarot cards into one stack and turned the stack face down on the green felt.

"You're not to touch those cards!" shouted the Amino Acid.

Crane looked over his shoulder. The young man had drawn his revolver and was pointing it at him. "Why not?" He smiled and jerked a thumb at the Hanari. "He doesn't have any objections. Ask him."

"I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the table," he told Crane. "Mr. Hanari has told us to kill anyone who tries to take the cards."

Crane hadn't anticipated this problem. He thought of the chilly gun in his belt, under the untucked shirt, and knew he wouldn't be able to drag it free before the Amino Acid had time for at least two shots. And the young man was already aiming at him.

Crane sighed. "Why Amino Acids?" he asked lightly.

"How do you know that name?" The young man seemed grudgingly pleased that Crane did know of it, like a writer meeting a stranger who has read one of his stories.

"Bitin Dog told me."

"Hah." The young man waved the gun barrel. "Step away from the table." Crane walked over and stood beside the Hanari.

"Our leader came up with the name," the young man said. "We're—we were a—a men's club, all pretty hip to the New Age wisdom … though our leader got killed last week, and now most of the guys have split. Amino comes from the Greek Ammon, the name of the Egyptian sun-god, for your information—and there are twenty amino acids that are the basis of all proteins, such as DNA, which is the currency of sexual reproduction, which we were against." He shrugged. "There were twenty of us. There are twenty cards in the Major Arcana if you throw away the Moon and the Lovers. We figured to be the psychic pool's DNA and immaculately conceive ourselves a real Fisher King, no woman needed, in the person of our leader. And after our leader was murdered, Stevie and I found Mr. Hanari, who's already that kind of King."

He blinked and frowned. "And would you step away from Mr. Hanari, too, please. Further than that. Sit down in the far chair. I'm perfectly willing to kill you, sir. Mr. Hanari has given us specific instructions." As Crane sat down in one of the farther chairs, the Amino Acid glanced at the slack-jawed, dully staring Hanari body. "I'm sure he'll have instructions for me in just a moment, when he's done … thinking."

He's empty, boy, thought Crane. He won't be speaking ever again—unless my father can throw his mind clear of his old body with his broken old brain, which he hasn't managed to do yet.

Crane glanced at Doctor Leaky, who was alternately frowning and chortling. But he might, Crane thought nervously, if we let him have enough time to try.