Jokertown Shuffle

by George R. R. Martin

  "I don't think anyone else would have done a better job than I did." Zelda sounded angry and defensive.

  "Blaise would have."

  "Fine. I'll get your young blond god, but he won't be David. Even Blaise can't bring him back." Zelda paused. "Anything else?"

  "That will be all," Latham said, and hung up.

  Jerry stopped the recorder and pounded his fist into his palm. This was the setup he needed. He flipped through his notebook for the name of the escort service Latham had been using. He'd pay them a visit tomorrow as a handsome blond young man. Bight now, though, he needed to check on Veronica.

  Beth met him at the door. She waited a moment before saying anything. Her face was tight. She forced a smile. "She's gone."

  "What?" Jerry stared hard at her, expecting some kind of lengthy explanation. "So…"

  Beth walked over to the couch. "She recovered so quickly. I've never seen anything like it. Look, I'm sorry, but I don't know what I could have done to stop her."

  You could have gone to bed with her, he thought, remembering Veronica's current sexual preference and the way she'd looked at Beth. Jerry flopped down on the couch and combed the hair from his eyes. "How did she leave? Did she walk? Catch a cab?"

  "A cab." Beth sat down next to him, perched on the front of a cushion. "Jerry, is it really that important?"

  "Yes," he said, sharply. "Absolutely."

  Beth's mouth tightened. "Starline," she said. "That was the cab company." She stood and left the room.

  "Beth, wait." Jerry took a couple of steps after her, then stopped. Explaining would take more time than he had right now. He had to get on Veronica's trail while it was still hot.

  He absolutely needed her to take out Latham. He'd apologize to Beth later. Get down on his knees if necessary. But there was no safety for any of them until Latham was dead and gone. He checked the cash in his wallet. There was plenty for what he had in mind. He headed for the door.

  The back seat of the cab was sticky. Jerry didn't want to know how it got that way. He'd found out the name of the driver at the Starline central office and had him sent down.

  The cabbie was young and Middle Eastern. At first, he could barely speak English. But after Jerry introduced him to the Jackson twins-a trick he'd picked up from Ackroyd-the cabbie became more helpful. He told Jerry how he'd picked up Veronica, described her clothing, the way she smelled, and how she behaved. After a little more financial inducement, the cabbie agreed to drop Jerry off at Veronica's destination.

  They were in an old part of Brooklyn. The red-and-white stone walls were faded, but for the most part clean. Kids with easy smiles played on stoops or out in the streets. The cab eased to a stop.

  "Here. It was on this spot." The cabbie leaned across the seat and pointed through the passenger-side window. "That building. She went into there." The cabbie turned and smiled. "You are grateful now"

  "Unspeakably." Jerry peeled off another twenty and handed it over. The cabbie certainly had grasped the essence of capitalism. Jerry got out of the cab and walked over to the stoop. He looked up.

  Veronica was staring down at him. "Fuck." He didn't hear it, but he could read the word on her lips.

  This wasn't going to be easy or fun. He fingered the door and went in. The paint on the walls was fresh, but the overhead light flickered. Jerry walked slowly toward the stairway at the end of the hall. He could hear kids screaming in Spanish inside one of the rooms.

  She met him at the landing between the second and third floors. Her teeth were clenched, her eyes wide with anger. "Leave me alone, Jerry. Just leave me the fuck alone." She said the words slowly. "My family lives here. Do you understand?"

  Jerry looked her in the eye and took a step forward, like a kid trying to sneak up on a cat. "He knows who you are, Veronica. He's going to come after you. Either you help me take Latham out, or you're as good as dead."

  "What business is that of yours? Maybe I'm tired of living." She put her hand on his chest and pushed him backward. "There's plenty of high-priced hookers out there. You don't need to mess with me anymore."

  "Veronica, look at me. Can you see what's wrong with me? I'm scared, just plain scared. Latham wants me dead too. I don't blame you for hating me. I'm not here to dredge up the past. I used you and I'm sorry. I can't fix what's already happened." He was trying to use her again, but this time it was actually for her own good. "He killed Hannah, and he killed my brother. There's no telling how many others. I've been after Latham for months, but I can't do it on my own."

  "Why?"

  "Because he's the head of the jumpers from the Rox and runs organized crime in this city, to boot. He's probably the most dangerous, ruthless man either one of us will ever meet." Jerry extended his palms. "I don't want to die yet. If you won't do it for me or yourself, do it for Hannah." Veronica leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. He could see the beginning of tears. "Leave me alone," she said. Jerry swallowed hard. He'd never seen Veronica hurting before. She'd always been so tough with him. He went up and put his arm around her. She shrugged it off violently, banging his hand painfully into the plaster.

  "Sorry," Jerry said. "You were really in love with her. I just didn't understand that until now. I guess I didn't want to." He thought of how he'd feel if Beth was killed and someone tried to use that as a carrot on him, then backed away, ashamed. "I won't bother you anymore. You should get out of town and make a new start somewhere else. if you don't want my money, I could arrange for a loan."

  "No," she said.

  Jerry turned and walked slowly down the stairs. He was useless to her now. She knew him too well, and he didn't know her at all. That was probably much more his fault than hers.

  "Jerry?" Veronica was looking down at him from the top of the stairs.

  "Yes."

  "What do you want me to do?"

  Veronica was hard and all business again. "I want you to help me kill him."

  Veronica was already inside. Jerry had fingered the service door to let her in, then walked around to the front of Latham's apartment building. After a brief conversation with someone upstairs, the doorman had let him in.

  According to the old ad campaign, blonds were supposed to have more fun. Somehow, Jerry didn't expect that was going to be the case tonight. He was young, tawny, and gorgeous. They'd almost had to clean their shorts when he walked into the escort service. He was exactly what Latham wanted, a David Butler look-alike with just enough differences to make it believable.

  Veronica met him at the elevator, and they stepped quietly inside. She was wearing a freshly ironed white blouse and navy pants. She fidgeted from one leg to the other as the car moved up the shaft to the penthouse. Jerry had been here before, and for the same reason. To kill Latham.

  He'd blown it, though. Zelda had jumped him and only when she freaked out in his body had he been able to get away. He felt better about his chances this time, with Veronica along. All he had to do was take out Zelda. He touched the cloth of his shirt pocket, feeling the packet underneath. He was going to need it.

  "I'm going to get the door unlocked and slightly open one way or the other," he said. "When I do that, move fast." Veronica nodded.

  The elevator glided to a stop, and the doors opened. They stepped out, and Jerry motioned Veronica out of sight. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and knocked. Zelda opened the door, dressed in sweat clothes. Her eyes widened when she saw Jerry-David, but she quickly hid her surprise with a nasty smile.

  Jerry took off his coat and folded it over his arm, then stepped inside.

  "Look what we have here," Zelda said.

  Latham emerged from the office, deep in conversation with a hairless pink bat. He looked at Jerry and stopped dead. His mouth hung open for a moment, then he closed it and eased over toward them. He was wearing a black silk robe with silver embroidery, and his hair was carefully blow-dried and combed. "Perfect," Latham said. "Ideal."

  Jerry looked dubiously at the joker. "Nobody told
me this was a group deal. I charge extra for bats."

  "He won't be staying," Latham said coldly. He turned his attention to the bat. "Tell the governor that I'll take care of it."

  The joker half walked and half flopped to the window. He perched momentarily on the sill. "Sorry to miss the fun, guys," he said. "Maybe next time." He dropped out of sight, and Jerry heard him flap noisily away.

  Jerry put his arm around Zelda, and licked her neck, then bit it. "There's still plenty of us to make a party." Zelda grabbed Jerry by the throat and tossed him backward. Jerry's feet came out from under him, and he bounced across the carpeted floor on his seat.

  "Don't touch me, whore," Zelda said, wiping her neck, "or I'll break every bone in your fucking body." She turned to Latham. "I'm going back to my workout." Zelda walked from the room.

  Latham walked over and helped Jerry to his feet. He stared hard at Jerry's sculpted features, as if looking for something.

  "Is your friend some kind of nutcase?" Jerry asked, throwing his coat on the back of the sofa.

  "Zelda is very exceptional… in her own way." Latham guided him by the elbow over to the couch. "Please, sit down. I'll make us a drink."

  Jerry eased back into the soft cushions. They were the only thing comfortable about the situation. "I hope I'm what you had in mind."

  Latham smiled thinly. "Oh, yes. Exactly what I had in mind." Latham filled two glasses with liquor and sat down next to Jerry on the couch.

  Jerry took the glass when it was offered and took a tentative sip. Whiskey he loved; scotch he detested. The liquor burned but didn't satisfy. Latham tilted his glass up and almost emptied it.

  Latham pulled a vial and small spoon from his pocket. He popped the vial open and carefully poured a spoonful, then held it under Jerry's nose. "Inhale,". Latham said.

  Jerry hesitated, then drew a deep breath. He felt like someone was pulling out his nose hairs from the inside. Something in his brain gave way, and he felt a massive tingle of pleasure. "Jesus," he said.

  Latham snorted a spoonful himself and let out a long breath through his thin lips. "I think God will likely be absent from our company tonight. Just as well." Latham bent over and put his mouth on Jerry's, pushing his tongue inside, and ran his hand over Jerry's crotch.

  Jerry felt pinned by both Latham's mouth and the unreality of the situation. He tried to think of it as the kiss of death for his brother's murderer. His brain snapped into a memory of Beth's lips. For a moment, he kissed back.

  Latham broke off the kiss and sighed. "It's a shame."

  "What?" Jerry asked.

  "Nothing." Latham stood. "Let's go into the bedroom." Latham walked toward one of the open doors, his silk robe rustling. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Jerry. Jerry caved in under the stare and followed. The bedcovers were turned back, and the sheets were clean. A red robe and mask hung in the corner.

  "Take your clothes off," Latham said.

  Jerry began unbuttoning his shirt. "I forgot my drink in the other room. Back in a minute."

  Latham nodded, unsashed his robe, and laid down on the bed.

  Jerry quickly crossed the living room and made it to the door. He unlocked it and opened it a crack. "Now," he whispered to the outside.

  He could hear weights clanking in the room Zelda had gone into. Jerry padded across the carpet and stepped inside. Zelda was bent over with a large dumbell in either hand, doing flies. She looked up when Jerry came in, her face flushed with exertion. Jerry reached in his pocket for the packet and thumbed it open.

  "The man wants to see you," Jerry said.

  Zelda continued working her arms. "You're being paid to please him. So do it."

  Jerry pulled the packet out of his pocket and threw the contents into Zelda's eyes. She dropped the dumbells and screamed. The powder was finely ground drain cleaner. Jerry had used it once before, in Jokertown. He knew Zelda couldn't jump what she couldn't see.

  The kick caught him below the ribs and sent him crashing into the wall. His shoulder smashed through the plaster and Sheetrock.

  "Kill you," Zelda said, shaking her head.

  Jerry crawled away from her, putting a workout machine between them. The lights flickered and dimmed. Veronica was doing it to Latham. It was all going to work out fine.

  Jerry grabbed the machine and pulled himself upright. The barbell sitting on it clanked. Zelda wheeled at the sound and took a step forward. She stepped squarely on one of the dumbells and it slipped underneath her, pitching her forward. Zelda cartwheeled into the machine, and Jerry leapt out of the way. She slammed into the mass of metal, knocking it over with her on top. The barbell tipped and fell. One heavily weighted end thudded into her back. There was a snap. Zelda opened her mouth. Jerry expected a scream, but there was only a low moan.

  He backed into the living room slowly, looking away from her. Zelda was one of his least favorite people in the world, but the suffering on her face was more than he could stand to see.

  Veronica was sitting on the couch with a gun in her hand. "Did you do it?" Jerry asked.

  She shook her head. "I couldn't. It's just not in me." Jerry gritted his teeth. "What about Hannah?" Veronica looked up and gave him a slow stare. "She wouldn't have been able to either." She handed him the gun. "You'll have to take care of it yourself."

  "Fine," Jerry said, hefting the pistol in his hand. "Get out of here. I'll meet you at the car."

  Veronica stood and left.

  Jerry walked into the bedroom. Latham was lying on the bed. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Jerry bent over and put the silencer to Latham's head, then paused. He understood why Veronica couldn't do it. After he fired the gun, Jerry would never be the same person again. No matter what the justification, killing a helpless person would leave a big scar. He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. Nothing.

  "Can't be jammed," Jerry said, fumbling with the weapon. "Can't be."

  The hands were around his wrist before Jerry even saw them move. They twisted the gun from his grasp and sent it bouncing to the floor. Latham bounded up, and put the bed between them.

  "Who are you working for?" Latham asked. "Tell me, and you might leave here alive."

  Jerry moved around the bed and toward the door. Latham cut him off. "Nobody," he said.

  Latham stared at him for a moment, as if weighing the situation. He head a groan from the exercise room. "What did you do to Zelda?"

  Jerry thought he saw fear for a moment in Latham's face. "She did it to herself, playing with her weights." He knew that only one of them was going to live. Maybe that was the only way he could turn killer, by counting on his survival instinct. He let his features go and took on his natural face. "Recognize me now?"

  Latham sneered. "Strauss the older. In years anyway. I knew there was someone sniffing around the edges of things, but couldn't ever pin you down. Kenneth would be so proud."

  At the mention of his brother, Jerry bolted at St. John. He slammed into Latham, knocking them both to the floor. Latham took Jerry by the neck and began squeezing, his hands hard and relentless. Jerry aimed a knee at Latham's groin, but caught him on the inner thigh. He clawed at St. John's face. The fingers at his throat clutched him tighter. Jerry could feel the muscles in his neck going numb. His vision was blurring. He thought of Kenneth's shattered body lying in a street. Thought of what would happen to Beth and Veronica if he failed.

  Jerry put his index finger into Latham's ear, and extruded the bone through his own flesh and into Latham's. His bone snaked through the eardrum and into Latham's brain. Jerry remembered the egg scrambler and whipped the strand of fingerbone around inside the lawyer's skull. Latham made a strangled, hissing noise and began twitching.

  Jerry twisted away and reshaped his hand. It felt like he'd stuck it into boiling water. He kissed the tip of his finger reflexively, then jerked back. He spat the brain tissue from his mouth.

  Jerry looked over at Latham. He wasn't breathing. He had to be dead. Had to b
e. Jerry sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. He'd always thought Latham was tougher and smarter than him, but it was St. John dead on the floor. Jerry closed his eyes and put a hand over his mouth, his insides suddenly cold. This was what killing felt like; what it really was. He knew the horror he felt now would be worth the peace it bought down the line, but now all he wanted was to be gone from this place.

  He reached over and picked up the gun, tucking it into his pocket. He got up, but turned in the doorway and looked down at Latham. The dead man's face was all pain, without a trace of peace. Jerry staggered out into the living room and grabbed his coat, then left the apartment. He changed his appearance as the elevator descended. He darkened his skin and hair and added a touch of age. But there was no changing how he felt about what he'd left in the apartment upstairs.

  They were walking through her neighborhood in Brooklyn. Veronica's skin had some lines, of course, but her color was back. Her hair shone in the sunlight.

  "How do you feel? I didn't think you could actually kill anyone. You weren't up to talking about it the other night." Veronica waved at a couple of kids playing with balsa wood gliders. They grinned and waved back.

  "Not good. I can't kid myself that murder is okay, but I had to do it. Part of being a grown-up is doing what has to be done. It was him or us." Jerry shivered, suddenly cold. "I don't know. Sometimes I'm okay and sometimes I'm not. Eventually, I'll make my peace with it."

  "I hope so," Veronica said. "You're not bad, for a man. You're a fuckup sometimes, but you've got a good heart." Jerry rubbed the corner of his eye. "Veronica, I wish I'd gotten to know you. I guess it's too late now"

  She smiled. "Probably. I need to start all over again. I've spent a lot of years finding out what I hated. I need to find something I can love. I guess that's why I came back to the old neighborhood. It's the last place I remember being happy. I want to be happy again."

  "Good luck." Jerry held out his hand. Veronica took it, and pulled him into a soft hug, then backed away. "If there's ever anything I can do," he said.