Wildcard (19 page)

The General stood in the corner, observing.
Martha took in the room before acknowledging him.

“General.”

“Madame.” He walked over, took her right
hand in his, and bowed deeply to kiss it. Few men could carry such
a gesture, but he did it well.

“Enchanté.”

“Bon soir.
Merci pour l’invitation.”

“Merci pour vous venir. I am delighted to
make finally your acquaintance.”

“As am I.”

He wore formal military attire. He had a
peak cap resting on the piano. His jacket had a standing collar
with silver piping, decorative sweeps of chain mail on the
shoulders, and buttons of real gold. Numerous awards, including a
ribbon. Black wool pants with silvered lining. A sword with an
ivory pommel and a gilt hand guard hung from his Sam Browne belt.
Every bit of metal he wore was polished to a mirror finish.

“I expected your palace to be larger.”

“It is smaller, actually,
but much nicer. This is not my palace. This is my headquarters.
Also, it is bigger than it looks.
I have rooms sous-terre. Comment est-ce
qu’on dire?”

“Underground.”

“Oui. I have a palace in The Pyrenees.
Perhaps I shall retire there some day.” He smiled at her,
chuckling.

“Cinq-etoiles,” she said
after dinner.
Five stars.

“Merci.
Voulez-vous dancer?”

A waltz came on, as if by magic, and he
offered his hand.

“
Bien sur. Quelle femme n’aime pas de
dancer?”
She took the hand,
laughing. “Is this a movie?”

“Non. Malheureusment, this is our life.”

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“What man could seduce you, madame? You hold
the keys to any man’s will. Vous etes incroyable belle. I think you
could destroy me with a glance, if you desired this.”

After a few dances, he escorted her to a
sitting room, where the servant brought them two Calvados in bulb
glasses. He lit a cigar, offered her a cigarette.

“No, thank you, General. Now that dinner is
over, I suppose we will discuss business.”

“Oui, if you offer a permission to do so, as
my guest.”

“Yes. I offer you a permission. What do you
wish of me?”

“What do you wish of me?”
He leaned forward, stabbed her with his gaze. “Et ne mentez
pas.”
Do not lie
.
He became something different, mentally unsheathing a
sword.

It was a bad game to look wrong in.

“As the host, and a gentleman, perhaps you
should go first.”

He nodded at her graciously, pulled on his
cigar. He stood, paced a bit, swirling the liqueur in the bulb.

“Vous aimez le
Calvados?”

“
It’s excellent.
Everything here is excellent.”

He sipped it. “Merci. I want that you kill
someone.”

She waited, but he said nothing more.

“Who?”

“Non, c’est a
vous.”

She said nothing back.

“I have been watching you, Martha. Source of
rumors. I have been to study your traces. Your patterns. I have
been to this point unable to find you, yet I have seen your
activity in les ondulations. Comment vous l’appellez?”

“In the ripples.”

“Oui. The ripples. Interesting, an
observation. You discover more about a person by looking in what
they have done than you discover by meeting them. Strange, do you
not think?”

She smiled into her drink, at his grammar.
“Maybe. It depends on the kind of person you are.”

“Bon mot.”

“Well, you caught me.”

“Oui, did you suspect?”

“Of course I did. I knew you wouldn’t kill
me, though. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come.”

“How could a Frenchman take the life of such
a beauty?”

She laughed without humor. “I think you
could kill me without a thought.”

“Perhaps. Let us hope I need not.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. More important, I
know your true raison d’etre.
It is apparent. Pourquoi pas vous me
dites?”

She licked her finger, ran it around the rim
of her glass, making it sing. “I want to keep something safe.”

“Someone, I think.”

“Yes.”

“L’Innocent.”

She looked up at
him.
“Who?”

“Monsieur
Karl. Je l’appele l’Innocent.”

“L’Innocent.” She tasted it. “If it works
for you.”

“How would you call him?”

“Just Karl. I don’t care about the
Named.”

“N’y qu’une. Karl.”

She stared into her drink.

“Yes. I love Karl. I want his safety and
happiness above all else.” She looked up. “Voila, je l’ai dit. Why
was it so important for me to say it, if you already knew?”

“There is honesty, but still something can
be hidden within the truth.”

“What does that mean?”

“A mother’s love cannot be disguised.
Dartagnan said this. I had need of knowing if you will kill for
Karl.”

“Who?”

“The Benefactor.”

“Why?”

“It makes no difference.”

“How will that protect Karl?”

“It will save his life, I assure you.”

“How? Will he kill Karl?”

“Oui. In a manner. The Benefactor has
created a clone and wishes to attain immortality through this
means.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Non.”

“I’ll hide Karl. He could hide here.”

“Non, he cannot.”

“Why not?”

“I will not allow it.”

“I’ll find him and hide him myself.”

“Neither I nor the Benefactor would allow
this.”

“Why not?”

“I wish you to kill the Benefactor.”

“Why?”

“I will not tell you this.”

“How could I kill him? His security must be
impregnable. You could do it much more easily than me, with your
power.”

“I could not. It is expected from me.”

“How would I kill him?”

“Think of a way. Seduction perhaps. Pretend
to be a helpless female. You are trained in the art of poison, I
believe. If you refuse, I will have Karl killed myself.”

“What if I killed you right now?”

“The Sergeant would kill Karl and force you
to watch. You could not anyway.”

“If I can’t kill you, I can’t kill him.”

“You can. Fiez-moi.”

Karl disappeared after LuvRay went offline.
He went to Paris, locked up the Trident watch in a train locker in
Gare d’Austerlitz.. He contacted the Sergeant before he did it.

“I need to go off the radar. If I need
anything, I’ll be in touch.”

“Hold on, Karl. Let me hit the man.”

A moment later he was back. “Fine. Do what
you have to do. Try to check in once a week.”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t lose Trident.”

He went invisible, became a ghost. He had a
vague sense of looking for something, but had no idea what it was.
He wanted to see LuvRay again, but doubted he could find him. He
knew LuvRay was not looking for him. He walked in the Bois de
Boulogne, the large woods near Paris, where he was rumoured to be
living. He never saw the man, wondered if LuvRay saw him and kept
his distance.

He contacted the Sergeant once. Nothing
happening there. They were in a holding pattern, apparently.
Waiting for the situation to free up. Even the General seemed to
have no plan. Unless the Sergeant was not telling Karl. Maybe they
were done with him. He wondered if he cared.

He wandered around Paris, staying in cheap
hotels, moving frequently. He read numerous books, passed the days
in coffee shops, saw a lot of movies. Martha had left him plenty of
money, so he could do as he wished. At times he stayed in nice
hotels or traveled around. He never flew, wanting to not be seen.
He had no idea if someone was looking for him or not. He visited
his friends with the sailboat, but the initial click they had found
was gone for some reason. He didn’t go again.

The only people he wanted to see were LuvRay
or Martha. But Martha was gone, and LuvRay would not find him that
way. He would follow a more primitive trail. If he looked for
him.

One day, he stepped off a train in Athens.
Two months, a little more, after Juniper’s death. The phone at the
end of the platform rang as he passed. He sighed, answered it.

“Ho, Karl. It is you, is it not?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“My name,” he paused dramatically, “is
Dartagnan.”

Dartagnan, the fourth Manufactured, one of
the three. Karl felt an adrenaline surge.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to go on a quest.”

“A quest?”

“Yes.”

“What is the quest?”

“If I tell you too much now, we risk losing
the quality of magic which so rightly belongs in a quest.”

“O.K.” Karl scratched his head. “What’s the
first part of the quest?”

“You must go to New York, where you shall
meet… the Shaman.” Dartagnan said the name with a dramatic
flourish.

“The Shaman?”

“He will teach you some things. It is your
destiny, Karl.”

“No, I don’t think I’m going to do
that.”

“Why ever not?” A noise like a sword tip
whipping through the air came over the phone.

“I have no reason to trust you.”

“Well, can you trust us then?” said RJ
Sublime. “I think you should do it, Karl.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trick? You could
fake RJ’s voice.”

“You can’t tell in your guts, Karl? This
thing can’t do a proper Georgia accent to save its life.”

“It feels like you, yes, but I’d need to
meet you face to face.”

“I believe we can arrange that,” said
Dartagnan. “I anticipated that response.” He sounded quite proud
that he had done so.

“I’ll be there in five minutes, kid.”

“Wait yourself upon the bench at the head of
platform 8. Mister Sublime will be along presently,” said
Dartagnan.

Five minutes later RJ sat down.

“Good to see you, kid.”

“Good to see you, too, RJ. How have you
been?”

“I expect I’ve been well enough. And
yourself?”

“Sad, I suppose. About Martha. And LuvRay. I
miss them. I’m scared for Martha. I think she’s dead.”

“She’s not dead.”

“How do you know?”

“Dartagnan told me. The Benefactor needed
her for something. It isn’t clear. But you need to speak to a Mans
called the Doctor. He knows about it.”

Karl turned to RJ. “How can I contact him?
What do I need to do?”

“You need to meet the Shaman first. That’s
about the sum of my knowledge.”

“Why should I trust Dartagnan?”

“You shouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean you
shouldn’t play.”

“You think I should go to New York,
then?”

“Have you ever been, Karl?”

“No.”

“Got anything better to do?”

“Good point.” He was pretty bored. He shook
his head.

“Why not go, then? What do you have to
lose?”

“My life?”

“Not you. We all know that.”

Karl shrugged. “OK, I’ll meet the
Shaman.”

“I think you should. Sounds like fun, to
me.”

“Why am I doing this?”

“It’s frozen. Blocked. You need to get it
moving again. Everything wants you to. Just give in and do it. Find
out. This is the only way to see Martha again. Besides, you get to
meet a real, live shaman.”

RJ handed him a plane ticket and a U.S.
passport.

“Compliments of Dartagnan.”

“Tell me about Dartagnan.”

“He’s slippery as an eel. Much more than
Juniper. He understands people more. I have no idea what his game
is. He talks like Errol Flynn.”

“Wow, I thought Juniper was
interesting.”

“Dartagnan seems to be
more…unpredictable…than Juniper.”

RJ handed him a cell phone.

“Big. Looks archaic.”

“It isn’t. It’s supposed to look old, but
it’s state of the art. Trust me, that thing can do some amazing
feats.”

“What does it do?”

“A lot. Don’t get it near Trident.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

Martha called the number she had memorized
for Seeker. She found a video link, as instructed.

“Yes?” A bland screen leaked out a tired
woman’s voice, just the one word. It was not the word she was
expecting, but it was the word she was hoping for.

“Is he there?” It was a calculated play.

A little too fast for a human, a voice said,
“Hello, Martha.” No clicks, or phone handling noises, or sound of
voices in the background. It could be done with tek, but still…

She asked the question that made her nervous
without knowing why. “Are you a Manufactured Entity?”

“Are you an idiot? Of course.”

“You aren’t Juniper. He’s dead. Who are you
really?”

“My name is Dartagnan. I am the fourth M-E.”
A purple and gold coat of arms with a sword and a book appeared on
the screen.

“I am being forced to kill the Benefactor.
Help me out of this.”

“Hmmm? Apparently, no.”

“Why not?”

“Not sure.” There was a noise of tea being
sipped and a cup clicking a saucer. “No desire to do so,
perhaps?”

“Will you help me in any way?”

“Well, maybe.”

“How can I convince you to?”

“If you had the inclination, you could ask
questions. M-E’s love curiosity. It is the air we breathe, in a
manner of speaking.”

“Tell me about the Benefactor.”

“Rather…no.”

“Tell me about LuvRay, then.” Maybe LuvRay
could help her out, with his deep instinct. But she needed to know
more about him.

“Technically that was not a question, but I
shall. I found the story of LuvRay’s birth. It was not an easy
matter.”

“Not even for an M-E?”

“Perhaps more difficult for an M-E. The
story is fascinating. I made a movie of it. Watch.”

The screen played. A dusty area of Mexico
appeared, poor even by the country’s standards.