Dead Mans Hand

4:00 P.M.

"So, Nephi," Jay said, leaning against the hood of Jesse Jackson's limo. Tachyon was inside the Hyatt Regency, conferring with his new candidate, and Ackroyd was getting tired of waiting. "The feds pay good, or what?"

Jesse Jackson's ace bodyguard looked at him like he was some kind of canker sore. He was a tall thin Mormon with a receding hairline, a gaunt chiseled face, and the best damn posture Jay had ever seen. The press called him Straight Arrow; the nameplate over his breast pocket said NEPHI CALLENDAR. "Some of us are not interested in personal gain," he told Jay. "Some of us are just grateful for a chance to serve God and our country"

Jay smiled. "Yeah, sure. And some of you just like to beat people up, right?"

Straight Arrow frowned and looked away.

"Heard that Carnifex got in some kind of brawl Sunday night," Jay said casually. "Or maybe it was Monday morning. Really pounded the shit out of some guy."

"Is that a fact?" Callendar did not seem terribly interested. "I wouldn't know. I'm sure no more force was applied than was appropriate to the situation. Ray is an experienced agent with an outstanding record."

"A hell of a dresser, too," Jay said. "Me, I don't think I could wear all that white. It's a bitch to keep clean. I like your outfit a lot better." The Mormon ace wore a tailored gray dress uniform. It looked very crisp and proper and military, until you picked up on the justice Department insignia on the sleeves and the dark red braid on cap and shoulder boards. His collar was fastened with a jeweled pin fashioned in the shape of a flaming arrow. "Free laundry service come with the job, or you guys have to pay the dry cleaning yourself?" Jay wanted to know.

Straight Arrow took a long pointed look at Jay's puce suit. "I'd recommend burning, not cleaning," he said. "Funny man," Jay said. "These are Tachy's. I think he wants them back, don't ask me why."

"Why all the interest in laundry, Ackroyd?"

"When my face got rearranged, I bled all over my lucky shirt." The bruises were a delightful greenish yellow shade today. "You know how it is when you got a lucky shirt. I figured you feds might know a place where I could get it cleaned. I hear that Carnifex had blood all over him after his little fracas on Sunday night."

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Ackroyd," Callendar told him. "As far as I know, Ray was with Senator Hartmann Sunday night, as per his assignment. If a situation arose requiring him to use force, regulations would have required that he file a report. No such report is on file." Before Jay could reply, Tachyon emerged through the front door of the Hyatt, Jesse Jackson at his side. The sidewalk was crowded with Jackson supporters waving bright red JESSE! signs. Straight Arrow's eyes moved restlessly, scanning the faces, as the two men clasped hands and lifted them over their heads. The black man was so much taller that Tachyon had to stand on his toes.

A ragged cheer went up, then Jackson and Tachyon headed for the limo, smiling and shaking hands as the spectators crowded in around them. Jackson pressed the flesh with practiced ease, but Tachyon looked distinctly uncomfortable. "What now?" Jay asked Tachyon when he reached the limo.

"Jesse wants us to talk to the jokers outside the Omni," Tachyon explained. He was wilting in the Atlanta heat. "He and I together. His positions on wild-card issues are just as strong as Hartmann's, if they will only listen…" He gave a long deep sigh. "Jay, if you have other leads to follow up, there's really no need for you to come along."

Jay thought about it for a moment. As far as he knew, he didn't have a single lead that was worth a damn. He shrugged. "Might as well," he said, "can't dance."

Inside the limo, the air-conditioning was cranked up and cooking, but Tachyon wilted visibly once out of the public eye. Even Jay could see how much he dreaded facing the jokers who had gathered in front of the convention center, many of whom considered him a traitor for deserting Hartmann in his hour of need. "They hate me now," he said with despair, glancing through the tinted windows at the crowds.

"Only some," Jackson said as the limo came to a stop. "It's not as if you switched your support to Barnett. I'm not that unacceptable, am