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Read Online Wild Cards [06] Ace in the Hole by George R.R. Martin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: George R.R. Martin
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Short Stories, Fantasy - General, Science Fiction & Fantasy, American
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anything more stonefaced than usual. The two were looking at Ellen pointedly. Gregg didn't need to say anything; Ellen was wellexperienced at picking up such cues.
"Well, I'll leave you folks to your politics," she said. "I've a meeting of my own with the NOW delegates. You are backing the ERA, aren't you?" She smiled again and took her leave. Gregg walked her to the door. On impulse, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her deeply. "Listen, Ellen, I just want you to know how much I appreciate all your help today, without you ... well, that incident this morning. Please don't think any more of it. I'm just tired, that's all. The stress ..."
He couldn't seem to stop talking. The words just kept tumbling out and he felt closer to her than he had in months. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt you . ."
Glenn and Metzenbaum were staring. Ellen stopped his words with a quick kiss. "You have guests, dear," she said, looking at him strangely.
Gregg smiled apologetically; it felt more like a death'shead grin. "Yes, I supppose ... I'll see you in a bit for dinner: Bello Mondo, right?"
"Six-thirty. Amy said she'd call to remind you." Ellen hugged Gregg wordlessly. "I love you." She gave him another long look, and stepped out.
Down below, Puppetman howled for attention. Gregg felt sweat beading on his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and turned back into the room.
"Ohio's been very good to me, gentlemen," he said. "You two are largely responsible. I suppose you're both aware that we're looking for support on 9(c) and the California--" They weren't listening. Gregg stopped in mid-sentence. "What?" he asked.
"We have a bigger problem, Gregg," Glenn said. "Bad news, I'm afraid. There's a nasty story going around about you and Morgenstern on the aces junket ..."
Gregg was no longer listening. Sara Morgenstern. His career seemed to be inexorably linked to hers. Puppetman's first victim had been thirteen-year-old Andrea Whitman, Sara's sister. Gregg had only been eleven at the time. It was only bizarre coincidence that had caused Sara to suspect, many years later, that Gregg had been involved in Andrea's death. To nullify Sara, and to satisfy Puppetman's own needs, he had taken Sara as a puppet the year before. On the wild cards junket, as discreetly as possible, they'd become lovers.
Gregg could see it all unraveling-the nomination, the presidency, his career. What had happened to Gary Hart could, after all, just as easily happen to him.
Inside, hardly muffled at all, Puppetman screamed.
For a while she simply wandered.
When she got back to her room in the Hilton the message light on the phone was glowing like a telltale on the console of a reactor on overload. When she called the desk, there were about twelve-thousand messages from Braden Dulles in D.C. waiting for her. Another call came in as she was getting the word, and the harried-sounding hotel operator patched it through.
"Is this true?" he asked.
She felt her breath congeal in her throat. It had been like this the one time she tried cocaine, back when she was still married to upwardly mobile lawyer David Morgenstern: the muscles of her chest just refused to work.
"Yes. "
At the door, the first knock came.
5:00 P.M.
Amy Sorenson met Gregg and Ellen behind the podium screen. On the other side of heavy velvet curtains, Gregg could hear the loud conversations of the reporters; the glare of video lights washed under the red folds. "They're all primed," Amy said. "I have your guests next door; I'll get them after you go in." She touched the wireless receiver in her ear and listened for a second. "Okay, Billy Ray says everything's fine. Are you ready?"
Gregg nodded. It had been a long, hard afternoontrying to get news from New York, working with Jack and a mostly soused Danny Logan (Logan was definitely one puppet he'd driven too far) on the strategy for the California fight later tonight, putting out brushfire rumors about his affair, arranging things
"Well, I'll leave you folks to your politics," she said. "I've a meeting of my own with the NOW delegates. You are backing the ERA, aren't you?" She smiled again and took her leave. Gregg walked her to the door. On impulse, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her deeply. "Listen, Ellen, I just want you to know how much I appreciate all your help today, without you ... well, that incident this morning. Please don't think any more of it. I'm just tired, that's all. The stress ..."
He couldn't seem to stop talking. The words just kept tumbling out and he felt closer to her than he had in months. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt you . ."
Glenn and Metzenbaum were staring. Ellen stopped his words with a quick kiss. "You have guests, dear," she said, looking at him strangely.
Gregg smiled apologetically; it felt more like a death'shead grin. "Yes, I supppose ... I'll see you in a bit for dinner: Bello Mondo, right?"
"Six-thirty. Amy said she'd call to remind you." Ellen hugged Gregg wordlessly. "I love you." She gave him another long look, and stepped out.
Down below, Puppetman howled for attention. Gregg felt sweat beading on his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and turned back into the room.
"Ohio's been very good to me, gentlemen," he said. "You two are largely responsible. I suppose you're both aware that we're looking for support on 9(c) and the California--" They weren't listening. Gregg stopped in mid-sentence. "What?" he asked.
"We have a bigger problem, Gregg," Glenn said. "Bad news, I'm afraid. There's a nasty story going around about you and Morgenstern on the aces junket ..."
Gregg was no longer listening. Sara Morgenstern. His career seemed to be inexorably linked to hers. Puppetman's first victim had been thirteen-year-old Andrea Whitman, Sara's sister. Gregg had only been eleven at the time. It was only bizarre coincidence that had caused Sara to suspect, many years later, that Gregg had been involved in Andrea's death. To nullify Sara, and to satisfy Puppetman's own needs, he had taken Sara as a puppet the year before. On the wild cards junket, as discreetly as possible, they'd become lovers.
Gregg could see it all unraveling-the nomination, the presidency, his career. What had happened to Gary Hart could, after all, just as easily happen to him.
Inside, hardly muffled at all, Puppetman screamed.
For a while she simply wandered.
When she got back to her room in the Hilton the message light on the phone was glowing like a telltale on the console of a reactor on overload. When she called the desk, there were about twelve-thousand messages from Braden Dulles in D.C. waiting for her. Another call came in as she was getting the word, and the harried-sounding hotel operator patched it through.
"Is this true?" he asked.
She felt her breath congeal in her throat. It had been like this the one time she tried cocaine, back when she was still married to upwardly mobile lawyer David Morgenstern: the muscles of her chest just refused to work.
"Yes. "
At the door, the first knock came.
5:00 P.M.
Amy Sorenson met Gregg and Ellen behind the podium screen. On the other side of heavy velvet curtains, Gregg could hear the loud conversations of the reporters; the glare of video lights washed under the red folds. "They're all primed," Amy said. "I have your guests next door; I'll get them after you go in." She touched the wireless receiver in her ear and listened for a second. "Okay, Billy Ray says everything's fine. Are you ready?"
Gregg nodded. It had been a long, hard afternoontrying to get news from New York, working with Jack and a mostly soused Danny Logan (Logan was definitely one puppet he'd driven too far) on the strategy for the California fight later tonight, putting out brushfire rumors about his affair, arranging things
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