Ace In The Hole

BLOOD SERUM TEST XENOVIRUS TAKIS-A

The rest was sliced off.

Jack stared at it for a long moment.

The secret ace, he thought, might not be secret much longer.

Spector was relieved when it was time to leave. Everyone said their goodbyes, except Armand, who didn't look like he could say anything. Tony slipped Shelly an envelope as they stood in the doorway. Spector figured there was a check in it. Shelly waved goodbye and closed the door. Spector and Tony headed down the stairs toward the car.

"You see what they're like if you give them half a chance," Tony said. "Oh, son of a bitch." He was looking at the car. Someone had spray painted "BARNETT. FOR PRESIDENT!" in six-inch yellow letters on the Regal.

Spector didn't say anything, but figured that the Hartmann stickers on Tony's car had made it too much of a temptation for the jerks with the spray paint. "What do you bet it was those shitheads in the Chevy?"

"Good guess." The voice came from behind them. Spector and Tony spun around. There were seven of them, clad in sweat-stained T-shirts and denim jeans. The largest had on a brown leather flight jacket. "We don't much like being called shitheads, though. I think we need to teach you some manners." There were grunts of approval from the others.

Spector had seen and heard it all before, but this time it was different. He couldn't just kill these punks, or Tony would figure out he was an ace. Seven to two was lousy odds. They were going to take a beating.

The boy in the jacket slipped on some brass knucks and walked straight toward Tony. The others spread out and moved in. Tony was in a crouch, fists raised. Spector moved over next to him. Hopefully, he could keep the guy with the knucks busy. It'd hurt, but he'd heal in a hurry. Tony wouldn't. At least none of them were showing knives or guns.

The leader took a wild swing at Tony and got a hard, straight right to the jaw as a reward. The kid was knocked back a step, but the others swarmed in. Spector caught one of the punks in the throat with a flailing elbow, but this wasn't his kind of fighting. They quickly hammered him to the sidewalk, and started kicking him in the stomach. Spector rolled into a ball and protected his head. They kept on kicking the shit out of him for a few moments, then stopped.

"Let's teach these joker-pokers a real lesson now." The kid spoke with the bravado only a pea-brained street punk can manage.

Spector rolled over and looked up. Tony was lying next to him, blood coming from his mouth and nose; eyes closed. He was out. The kid in the jacket pulled out a switchblade and clicked it open. Spector knew game time was over. He blinked a few times to clear his head before killing the kid.

There was a gunshot from the window behind them. The kid went down with a funny look on his face, his switchblade spinning off into the darkness. The other punks scattered before Spector could get up. The kid had gotten over the initial shock of being shot and was now screaming on the sidewalk. His right arm was a bloody mess between the shoulder and elbow.

Spector struggled up and kicked the kid in the mouth. "You shut up or I'll rip your tongue out, shithead." The kid stopped yelling, but still made pathetic mewling noises.

Armand came down the stairs holding a rifle. Shelly was a step behind, a rubbery hand over her mouth. Tina had her face pressed to the window and was peering down at the sidewalk. Porch lights, those that worked anyway, were coming on up and down the street. Several neighbors were headed toward them. Spector carefully rolled his friend over. Tony had a bad cut on his forehead, and several of his front teeth were chipped or split.

"Is he all right?" Shelly dabbed at the blood on Tony's face with her sleeve.

"He'll be okay, I think," Spector said, opening the back door and grabbing Tony by the armpits. "Help me lift him in. We need to get him to a hospital." Armand grabbed Tony's legs and they hoisted him into the back seat. Spector turned to Shelly. "You know where the nearest hospital is?"

Shelly nodded.

"Then get in the front seat and tell me where to go." Spector fished out Tony's car keys, closed the door, and walked around to the driver's side.

Armand grabbed him by the elbow and motioned to the kid with his head.

Spector coughed. "Tony would tell you to hand him over to the cops and hope for the best. Personally though, I'd cut his throat and feed him to the neighborhood dogs."

Armand's face changed, but Spector couldn't be sure it was a smile. He slid into the driver's seat and cranked the Regal up.

"Buckle up, Shelly," Spector said, fastening his seatbelt. She did as she was told. Tony groaned as Spector punched the accelerator. They screamed off into the night.