"The Desperate Game"

"The Desperate Game"

7/18/1983

I.

As soon he came into the bar, Jeremy Bane automatically stepped to one side and turned his body sideways. He had been shot at more than once when entering places better than this dive. Two years on the Tagra tea diet had enhanced the Dire Wolf's bodily reactions enough that his eyes adjusted instantly to the dim lights after being out in the summer sun. He spotted no immediate threats. Two men sharing a newspaper in a booth didn't look up at his entry. The bartender's body language indicated no tension, no readiness to go for a weapon. It was Rook who then could claim his full attention.

Regarded as one of the most beautiful women in the Midnight War, Rook was tall, five feet seven, and slim as a dancer. The straight glossy black hair hung down to nearly the small of her back and contrasted with the simple dress of dark red silk. Having a French father and Japanese mother had gifted her with golden peach skin, a fine-featured oval face and huge dark eyes. As she saw Bane, those eyes became mocking. One elegant eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch.

"Ah, the Dire Wolf himself," she murmured in a low pleasant voice when he neared. "Come to help me watch dismal world events? I've got the twelve o'clock news blues." She inclined her head toward the small black and white television fastened on a frame in one corner.

"Rook. We need to step outside. This situation is serious.."

"You're talking like a damn fool, Jeremy. I'm sitting on this bar stool for the forseeable future. I've got nothing to do and all day to do it in."

"What can I get you, buddy?" interrupted the bartender with a hint of insistence. He seemed suspicious of this tall thin man who dressed all in black and who had pale eyes which seemed innately cold and wary. Or possibly he was as smitten with Rook as most men became and resented Bane's presence.

Glancing down at Rook's half filled glass, the Dire Wolf replied, "I'll have a martini, too. Vodka, dry vermouth, ice, and a twist of lemon, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Jeremy, really? You are such a thorough American, I expected you to order a bottle of cold brew."

Putting money down on the bar, Bane took a sip. The drink was wasted on him. His enhanced healing factor meant that alcohol had absolutely no effect on him. He could have chugged down a bottle of vodka without reacting. "Rook, you're in more trouble than usual."

"That reward that that STIGMA posted on me? Oh, Jeremy. Don't tell me you've sunk to being a bounty hunter." The perfect lips curled up ironically. "I expect better from you."

The Dire Wolf took another tiny sip and placed the glass off to one side. "It's not me you have to worry about. My sources tell me it's badlands gossip that a half dozen different assassins have been reported in the Hudson Valley. A Blind Archer or one of the Night Gorillas? Karel Cherny, maybe Golgora?"

"I have had a high price on my head before," she replied, emptying her own glass with a back toss of her head. "So tiresome, to be retrieved for a bounty by some faceless mercenary. Are you here to offer me protection?"

There was no warmth in his voice, only firm restraint. "You helped me and my team against Cogitus. That weighs in your favor. Stopping your cat burglar career really isn't on my agenda. As far as I know, you've never killed anyone. You swindle and rob millionaires who are on the wrong side of the law themselves."

"Hmm. Are you sure you don't have more carnal motives, dear?" she asked. "I am not unattractive, after all."

"I'm all business, Rook. You know that."

"Somewhat to my regret," she chuckled. "But I understand. After all, your girlfriend is a telepath."

"Let's get going. Stewart Airport is only twenty minutes away."

"Ready for another one, sweetheart? asked the bartender, who had been conspicuously at the other end of the bar and out of earshot.

"In a minute, thank you." Rook turned those slightly oblique eyes on the man she had matched wits with before. "There is a complication. Despite what I said a moment ago, I do have an appointment to receive payment from a rather unappealing entrepeneur named Sebastien. Do you know him?"

"Only by reputation. Sort of a Midnight War fence for mystic talismans. Skip seeing him, Rook, we need to get you on a flight back to Europe."

"And mar my reputation? No, no, that would never do. I used to like to walk the straight and narrow line, Jeremy. I used to think that everything was fine. But the shady side of life calls to me so strongly. I was not born to live within the law, I am a natural outlaw and renegade. My God, I'm hardly alive unless I'm in danger."

Bane's self-control faltered for an instant as anger entered his voice. "I'm not sure why I'm doing this if you're not going to co-operate. But be that way. I'll take you to your payoff and still try to get out of the country alive."

"That's the way you are, dear. We are both of us true to our natures." She slid off the stool and smoothed her dress down. Off to one side was a small brown leather handbag on a gold chain, but she hesitated before picking it up. "But there is no better protection than having you on hand. The Dire Wolf. Faster than any Human. Are you still quick enough to slap a striking cobra? I myself have seen you in action. Am I being too cavalier, my dear friend?"

"I'm used to it," he replied without heat. All during their exchange, his eyes had never been still a second, moving intently for any possible attack. "Come with me to the door but stay over by the side."

Nodding sweetly to the bartender, Rook followed him. "Your manner has changed suddenly, Jeremy. You've got the wolf's air about you."

"A shadow crossed close by that window but no one came in," he replied. "Too obvious. They want me to go circle the building looking for them."

"But...?"

"It's a chance to get one assassin out of the way right at the start." He placed a hand on the doorknob and gave her a wry gaze. "I always walk into traps to get them over with."

( the rest of the story )