Wild Cards 13 : Card Sharks Page 5

  This time she broke quickly and whispered in my ear, her breath hot. "Let's go to your room."

  "But ... I ... don't have a, uh, you know. A rubber."

  A tight smile altered her features for just a moment. "Chuck, I'm already pregnant, remember? Come on."

  I got up, still clinging to her. I was certainly not going to argue very hard. Besides, it was her choice.

  In my bedroom, we stepped over dirty socks and the wadded up dungarees I had worn to work yesterday. I turned on the little fan my parents had given me.

  Flo stopped by the bed and stepped out of her penny loafers. Then she began to unbutton her blouse. I sat down on the bed and switched on the little portable six-transistor radio on the nightstand under the lamp.

  "... Never knew what I missed until I kissed ya. ..." It was the Everly Brothers' new release, quick and bouncy.

  The only light angled in from the hall. Standing half in the light, she let her skirt drop to a puddle around her feet and then unfastened her white crinolines. She unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, letting her large breasts swing free. Then she bent forward and slid her white underpants down. Only the pearls still glistened on her body.

  I watched as she sat down next to me. Then I tugged my t-shirt up over my head, revealing my fat belly. I really wished I had washed up a little after we had come back here.

  She was the one who knew what to do. Slowly, on the narrow single bed, a girl with a gorgeous face, large breasts, and slender, shapely legs made all my wildest adolescent fantasies come true.

  ***

  "They ran so fast that a hound couldn't catch 'em, down the Mississippi to the Gulf o' Mexico. ..."

  Johnny Horton was gleefully singing about the Battle of New Orleans on the little transistor radio. I opened my eyes and stared at a crack in the ceiling. "Oh ... I must have dozed off."

  Flo smiled at me. I wondered what she had thought of me. After all, I'd never done that before.

  "I don't ..." She was whispering. "I don't want you to think I - well, I don't always do this."

  "I didn't think so," I said quietly.

  Her face was close to mine. "My father hates the wild card. He taught me what it's done to people. He even ... showed me."

  "I don't have it so bad. Not when you look around Jokertown."

  "My Mom wasn't ... like him. You sort of remind me ... not your looks, but I mean ... you're real decent."

  "Thank you." For me, the idea that the people who had always despised jokers could have nice daughters was a new thought.

  "Jokertown ... is going to be destroyed," she said suddenly.

  "Hm?"

  "Jokertown is going to be burned to the ground."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I don't think I ever realized how horrible that would be."

  I sat up. "Jokertown is going to burn?"

  She shook her head tightly. "I said too much."

  "You can't just say that and stop. Come on."

  "No! I can't!" She flung herself out of bed, turning away. Then she started crying again.

  I was amazed at her abrupt shift in mood. Talking about a fire scared me, though. I jumped up and turned her by the shoulders.

  "What are you talking about?"

  She shook her head, trying to move away.

  I stayed in front of her. "You can't just say that and quit! I live here! What about a fire?"

  She was sobbing and shaking her head. After a moment, though, she swallowed and looked up at me. "All right! All right. Chuck, my father and some people he knows secretly made Jokertown, starting back in the late forties. They wanted it to be a magnet, where they could draw jokers together."

  "What do you mean, 'made' it? Jokers just moved here 'cause it was cheap. Everybody knows that."

  "That's right. Rich people bought the buildings here and provided the loans for businesses through their own banks. They did the same with places to live, setting up everything to be real cheap. Then, after drawing as many jokers here as possible, they're going to burn it all down."

  "Aw, come on. Their own buildings?"

  "The buildings are insured for lots of money. And if they have to, they'll take a loss in some cases. They can afford it."

  It was starting to make sense.

  "Even the fire chief is in on it. He'll make sure all the fire engines arrive too late, or never get there at all."

  I truly felt like a kid. She was a year younger, but her manner was more mature, more sophisticated. She came from the real world, outside Jokertown. Her father was wealthy and powerful. Even the way she spoke sounded older than her years.

  "How do you know so much about it?"

  "My father still thinks of me as a little kid ... between my ears." She smiled bitterly. "He doesn't try to keep this stuff a secret from me; he's always taught me that people with the wild card are the greatest danger to American society ever. He's never thought of me as a security leak."

  I was silent a moment. "When is Jokertown going to burn?"

  "I don't know exactly. But I think the wiring of fire-bombs is going to start any time."

  "Look - can you tell me anything else? Any kind of a clue to what's going to happen?"

  She paused. "The name 'Lansky.' He mentioned it over the phone to someone late last night, after I got home. I remember he said it before, too, when he was talking about Jokertown."

  "What about it?"

  "That's all I really have." Her tone was apologetic.

  I looked into her brown eyes.

  "I want to walk you home," Fats Domino sang on the little radio. "Please let me walk you home. ..."

  The phone rang. I hurried into the kitchen, stark naked.

  "Hello?"

  "Hiya, Chop-Chop; howsa boy?" Waffle's voice came through over Biff's sizzling grill and the roar of chatter behind him.

  "Hi, Waffle. Look - you got to keep this a secret."

  Flo came around the corner to listen. She had on her white underpants already. Now she was holding her bra, watching me.

  I knew Waffle's information could always be bought, but I had no choice. "Where could a friend of mine get an abortion?"

  "Damn! Way to go, Chop-Chop! Didn't know you had it in ya!" Waffle roared with laughter. "Haw! So, little Chop-Chop's got a girlfriend nobody knew about!"

  I was glad Flo couldn't hear him. "Come on, Waffle."

  Anyhow, Waffle came across. Since she was a nat, it would cost her three hundred for the doctor and two hundred for him. It would be done by a real doctor and we had to meet Waffle behind the Chaos Club in two nights at eight o'clock. I had to come with her. She okayed it on the spot.

  I hung up. She liked the fact that this would be done by a real doctor. We had both heard about quacks in that business.

  However, I told her to be down here by six o'clock. She couldn't risk getting slowed down in rush hour. If we were late, she might not get another chance. She agreed.

  She had to go home now, of course. We got dressed quickly. Since she didn't want to flag down a cab in Jokertown, I agreed to walk her to the Bowery. Lots of nats came and went from the restaurants and bars there.

  The night was cool and breezy. I walked with her in a glow of pride, aware that jokers were glancing at us in surprise as we passed. We stopped at the Bowery, where she hailed a cab.

  "I won't go straight home," she said. "I'll go halfway home, get out, and take another cab from there. Just in case."

  "Look," I said awkwardly. "Can you come back tomorrow?"

  "Tomorrow? You said the appointment is two nights away."

  "Yeah. Just ... well, if you want."

  "Maybe, Chuck. Maybe. Tomorrow at the same time?"

  "Yeah! Same place, same time - where I work."

  "Maybe." As the cab swerved to the curb, she glanced quickly up and down the sidewalk before quickly kissing me on the mouth. Then she slipped inside the cab and slammed the door. It roared away again.

  I gazed after the shrinking rear red ligh
ts of the cab, still only half believing that this night had happened.

  In the breezy summer night, I walked home in a dreamy state, seeing Flo's flushed face and bare breasts against the backdrop of streetlights and shadows. With the Everly Brothers singing in my head, I never once thought about Slug Maligne's baseball card.

  "... Never knew what I missed until I kissed ya. ..."

  ***

  The next day was just as hot and humid as yesterday, but I didn't care. Whenever the Everly Brothers came on the radio, I turned the volume way up. I smiled a lot, remembering her.

  Thoughts about a big Jokertown fire wouldn't leave me alone, though. Sometimes I looked around at the buildings near me and wondered which ones might go up. I had to talk to someone about my only clue.

  When I punched out at the end of the day, I still hadn't seen Flo. I hung around on the sidewalk for half an hour or so, but I guess I knew after the first ten minutes that she wasn't coming. While I was disappointed, I wasn't devastated. I knew she'd be back tomorrow night. Besides, I had business. I finally took off for Biffs.

  Inside Biffs, Connie Francis was on the jukebox: "Lip stick on your col-lar ... Told a tale on you - ooh. ..."

  At this early hour, the place was nearly empty. Behind the counter, Biff was making hamburger patties. His face and body were those of a furry brown chipmunk standing up on his hind legs, in a t-shirt and a stained bib apron. He glanced up, bored.

  "Hi, Biff." I got a Coke from him and headed to a round metal table in the rear. Two of the regular joker guys were back there.

  The song ended. No other song came on. The place suddenly seemed as quiet as a tomb.

  Cheetah and Troll were two guys I had always kind of known, but not well. They had been involved in petty theft and break-ins of nat-owned businesses. I had always been a little afraid of them. Now I knew they might be able to help and that I could trust them to keep quiet about it, too.

  "Hi, guys."

  "Hi." Cheetah looked me over cautiously. I had never just walked up to them before. Cheetah had the head and neck of a chimpanzee, except for the power of human speech. Above the waist, he had the short, hairy body and long arms of one, as well, inside a white t-shirt. Below the waist, he had human proportions and wore ordinary, dirty dungarees and tennis shoes.

  Troll was nine feet tall and had green, warty skin. His crooked yellow teeth stuck out in every direction and his red eyes peered out from under a heavy brow ridge. He was muscular but still slender with youth. In his huge hand, with nails like sharp, black claws, a greenish bottle of Coke had almost disappeared. He sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall.

  "Sit down, Chop-Chop," Troll rumbled.

  I sat down next to Cheetah. "You guys ever hear the name 'Lansky' before?"

  Cheetah's eyes widened. Troll didn't react that I could see.

  "Well, did ya?"

  "Listen, keep your voice down about him," said Cheetah. "Meyer Lansky is one of the biggest racket guys ever."

  "Yeah? What's he doing now? He must have something going."

  "He's been seen around Jokertown lately. Word is, he came down personally in this big black Caddy to rent some warehouse space."

  "Really? What's he keeping in it?"

  "Chop-Chop, I wouldn't ask questions like that. He keeps his place guarded. You follow me?"

  "Then where are these warehouses?"

  "Chop-Chop! That kinda talk is dangerous."

  "Why?" Troll asked, much more calmly.

  "Well ..." I felt I had to keep Flo out of my explanation, but the rest of it was joker business. "Look, I need some help. I might have to break into a place."

  "What?" Cheetah's eye widened in surprise. "Little Chop-Chop's turning into a juvenile delinquent? What's the deal?"

  "I can't go into it, but it's big."

  "Jokers shouldn't hurt each other," Troll said firmly.

  "Not jokers," I whispered. "A place is gonna burn."

  "What place?" Cheetah shoved his Coke bottle aside.

  "I got to keep that quiet. But I have to find out what Lansky's doing in jokertown."

  "All right," said Troll. "He rented that red brick warehouse where we used to throw rocks through the windows. And the one just down the street from it, too. Take your pick."

  Cheetah laughed, showing his large chimp's teeth. "Half the windows in that red one are still busted out."

  "Will you help me?"

  "You just want to see what's inside?" Cheetah asked.

  "If I find what I'm looking for, I want a sample."

  "Like what?" Cheetah studied my face.

  "I don't know, exactly." I turned to Troll. "You in?"

  "If a place in Jokertown is going to burn, I'm in."

  "Okay. After dark, at nine, right outside."

  "We'll be there," said Cheetah.

  ***

  I went home for dinner. Then I told my mother that I was going back to Biff's, which was true. I met Troll and Cheetah on time.

  They simply fell into step with me in the darkness outside.

  "You guys know more about this than I do," I said.

  "Who says?" Troll demanded, in his low rumbling growl. His belt buckle was higher than the top of my head.

  Cheetah screeched with laughter. "Okay, Chop-Chop. We get the message. You just tag along."

  We stopped in the shadows across the street from the red warehouse. Lights were on inside the front of the building. Pedestrians were still strolling nearby in the cool night air.

  "This one or the one down the block?" Troll asked.

  "Doesn't matter," I said.

  Cheetah looked down at me. "This is your show."

  "This one, I guess."

  Cheetah led us down to the rear lot, with the loading dock. It was fenced and locked. None of the rear windows was lit.

  Troll lifted Cheetah over the top rail of the eight-foot fence, then me. Last, he grasped the top of one of the steel fence posts and jumped. It bent slightly, but he was merely using it for leverage, not pulling with his full weight. At his height, the fence was just an annoyance.

  Cheetah jogged quietly to the back of the building, craning his simian neck upward. He pointed with a long, hairy arm to a third story window that was almost completely broken out. Troll moved under the window Cheetah had chosen. He held Cheetah around the waist and lifted him. Cheetah's long arms stretched up to the top of the second story window, where his fingers found a hold lost in the shadows. Then Cheetah climbed upward out of his grasp to the open window and carefully moved through it, avoiding the bits of jagged glass still in the frame.

  We waited in silence. Finally the rear door creaked open gently. Cheetah stuck his head out and gestured for us to follow him. "Just two guys down in the front," he whispered. "Playing cards. But they have guns."

  I drew in a sharp breath. "Look, maybe -"

  Troll gently shoved me forward. "Too late," he rumbled.

  I followed Cheetah inside. At first the only light came from the streetlights behind us. Deeper inside, light came from the front of the warehouse, angling around tall stacks of wooden crates. I could hear the voices of the two men talking quietly to themselves, and then the rippling sound of cards being shuffled.

  Troll, moving with a stealth that seemed impossible, moved over one aisle between stacks of crates. Cheetah slipped over to another aisle. I followed Cheetah, quivering with fear.

  Near the end of the aisle, Cheetah turned and began climbing the stack of crates. I moved up close and simply watched. By now, I had no idea where Troll had gone.

  "I'm sick of goddamned cards," said one of the men. "Three more lousy hours till we're off. You still got that flask on you?"

  "Aw, come on. It's almost empty ... hey, you hear somethin'?"

  Suddenly Cheetah let out a shriek. I ran up to look around the corner. Cheetah was swinging on a rope that dangled from the ceiling on a block and tackle, toward the two men.

  The two men were both in shirtsleeves, wearing shou
lder holsters and narrow ties pulled loose. They had been sitting on crates, using a third one to hold their cards, an ashtray, and a couple of empty beer bottles. Now they looked up in shock, reaching for their guns. Jarring footsteps shook the floor as Troll ran toward them on his long, lumbering legs.

  One man started to aim at Cheetah, then spun toward Troll.

  "No! Not in here!" His companion screamed in terror and pushed his arm aside. "The whole joint'll go up!"

  The first man hesitated, staring at Troll in astonishment. Then, ignoring his friend, he fired, apparently figuring he had nothing to lose. Two bullets ripped through Troll's shirt, careening off his hard, green skin.

  The man fired again and again, backing away in horror. "Holy goddamned -"

  Cheetah dropped onto his shoulders, still screeching insanely, and knocked his arm askew. As the man tumbled sideways from Cheetah's weight, Cheetah rolled and the gun skittered across the floor. The man leaped for the gun, snatching it up in both hands.

  Troll was still chasing the other man, who was on his feet and backpedaling as he continued to fire. All the bullets ricocheted off Troll's skin, ripping up his clothes as they struck. Troll batted the gun out of his hand.

  The first man was aiming for Cheetah.

  I didn't realize I was running forward until I saw how close I was. Without thinking, I flung myself forward and collided with the man as he fired at Cheetah. The gun snapped twice in my ear as we rolled on the floor.

  A much louder bang sounded high above us, but I couldn't turn to look yet. I knocked the gun away from the man, sliding it across the dirty floor. Then, before the man could recover, Troll stomped on his neck; it gave with a loud crunch.

  The other man had escaped Troll, but was staring up over our heads someplace. A small fire had started in one of the crates up there. A stray bullet had hit something.

  "It's gonna blow! The whole damn place!" The man screamed, looking around frantically, and tried to run past Troll.

  Troll strode forward on his long legs. This time he slammed a fist the size of a volleyball into the side of the man's head. His neck snapped loudly and he collapsed to the floor.

  "Never killed anybody before," Troll muttered, gazing down at the two dead bodies. "Hell, Cheetah. I didn't plan on that."