Dead Mans Hand

6:00 P.M.

It was a hundred times more complex than a snowflake, delicate as the finest lace, like a flower made of ice. Jay stared at the image on the screen of the electron microscope for a long time. "Jesus," he said, releasing the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, "it's beautiful."

Tachyon pushed back his long red hair. "Yes, I suppose it is. Trust us Takisians to create a virus to match our aesthetic ideal." He pivoted on the lab stool and suddenly yelled out, "Ackroyd!"

Jay turned just as Hiram started to go down in a faint. He grabbed one arm, Tach the other. Hiram's weight brought them all down with a thump. On the floor, the huge ace ran a hand across his face and said, "Sorry, must have blacked out for an instant."

Tach gave him a hit from a pocket flask, and Hiram sucked it down greedily. Jay suddenly realized how thirsty he was. "Hey, can I have a sip of that? It's been a hell of a week." Tach handed it to him wordlessly, and Jay tried a swallow. Brandy. Well, it was better than nothing.

"There can be no doubt?" Hiram was asking. "None."

"But just because he's an ace… well, that proves nothing. He'd have been mad to admit to the virus. He might be a latent."

Tachyon stared up at the ceiling. He looked lost. Jay broke the silence. "So what do we do now?"

"A very good question," Tachyon said. "You mean you don't know?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I do not have the solution to every problem."

Hiram struggled to his feet ponderously. "We've got to have more proof than this," he said.

Jay jerked a thumb at the fancy microscope. "What more proof do you want?"

"We don't know if he's done anything wrong!"

"He had Chrysalis killed!" Jay said, rising to face him. "I demand evidence of wrongdoing." Hiram whacked a closed fist into an open palm.

Jay pointed at the screen. "That's evidence."

"Stop it! Stop it!" Tachyon yelled.

Hiram took the alien by the shoulders. "You go to him. Talk to him. There may be some logical explanation. Think of all the good he's done-"

"Oh, yeah," Jay said with all the sarcasm he could muster. He was sick and tired of hearing about Saint Gregg. He took another hit of brandy.

"Think of what we stand to lose," Hiram cried. Sometimes Hiram's innocence was unbearable. "So he'll just lie to Tachyon," Jay said. "Where the hell does that get us?"

"He cannot lie to me," Tachyon announced portentously. Hiram took his hands away, and Tach straightened like a man trying to be tall. It didn't work very well. "If I go to him, you know what I will do," he told Hiram. "Will you accept the truth of what I read in his mind?"

"Yes," Worchester said.

"Even though it is inadmissible in a court of law?"

"Yes."

Tachyon danced around to face Jay. "As for you, Mr. Ackroyd, take the jacket. Destroy it."

Fleeting visions of the world of shit he'd lived through to find the jacket passed through Jay Ackroyd's mind, and he protested. "Hey, that's our only proof!"

"Proof? Are you really suggesting that we publicize this? Think. What we hold could spell the ruin of every wild card in America."

Stubbornly, Jay said, "But he killed Chrysalis, and if we don't nail him, Elmo takes the fall."

That was too much for the alien. All of a sudden Tachyon started pulling at his hair in something that looked perilously close to a hysterical frenzy. "Damn you, damn you, damn you. "

"Look, it's not my fault," Jay said, scared that Tach was about to burst into tears. "But I'm damned if I'm going to agree to some sleazy. little deal that lets Chrysalis's murderer walk."

"I swear to you upon my honor and blood that I will not let Elmo suffer."

"Yeah? What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet!" Tachyon switched off the electron microscope, removed the slide, washed the incriminating scraps of fabric down the sink. Hiram moved to follow when the alien started to leave, but Tach stopped him. "No, Hiram. I must do this alone."

Jay pointed out the obvious objection. "And if he's got Buzz Saw Boy waiting for you?" he asked.

"That's the risk I must take."