"What?" Ackroyd said. "That's ridiculous."

Brennan shook his head. "I knew something was wrong at the crime scene when I first saw it, but it took me a while to figure it out. There was very little blood in Chrysalis's office. She'd been killed before being pulped. Her heart had stopped pumping so there was no blood sprayed on the walls, desk, or floor."

Tachyon nodded. "That makes sense."

"Someone was covering his tracks again, pretending that Chrysalis had been battered to death by an ace with extraordinary strength. But who?" Brennan shook his head. "The list of suspects had again become endless, but I thought I could narrow it down by questioning Sascha. He was a telepath, he'd been on the murder scene, and he was acting peculiar. I figured he knew more than he was admitting. He'd disappeared, but I thought I could track him down."

"You couldn't have found him," Ackroyd said. "He was here in Atlanta."

"That's right," Brennan agreed. "But during the investigation I found out that he was in thrall to a mysterious master, someone called Ti Malice. Then I found Malice's apartment, and in the apartment was a closet, and in the closet was a coat, and in the coat were these." He carefully reached into his hip pocket with his broken arm and took out a deck of playing cards. They were ornate, but worn and tattered and of great age and apparent delicacy.

"So what?" Ackroyd asked with a frown.

"These are the cards," Brennan explained, "that Chrysalis played solitaire with, the deck from which the murderer took the ace of spades to frame me. The deck he then absentmindedly put in his coat pocket and took with him after he left her office. Isn't that right, Worchester?" Brennan stared grimly at the huge ace. Hiram tried to speak, but no words would come out. He stuttered, sputtered, and fingered the angry sore on the side of his neck, his face pale and beaded with sweat, his hands trembling.

Brennan dropped the cards on the floor and took from his jacket pocket the ace of spades that Chrysalis had left him in her will. He scaled it at Hiram. The card flew true, struck Hiram's broad chest, and tumbled to the floor where it landed faceup, black and ominous against the carpet.

"Cute," Jay said as the card fluttered to the floor at Hiram's feet. "That mean you're going to start killing people now, or what?" He started to get up.

"I told you not to move." The barrel of Brennan's automatic slid a few inches to the right, until it was fixed on Jay. "So shoot me," Jay said. He got to his feet, looking right at Yeoman. "You got any idea what Hiram has just been through?"

"I don't care what he's been through."

"Aren't you the fucking soul of compassion?" Jay said. "I don't waste my compassion on killers," Brennan said. "Oh, I forgot, you're Mother Teresa," Jay said with bitter sarcasm. "Well, pardon the hell out of me. Thing of it is, though, seeing as how you hate killers so much, I can't help noticing you're the only one in the room with a gun in his hand."

"Jay, Daniel, please," Tachyon pleaded. His good hand cradled his bandaged stump, and he sounded weak and sick at heart. "Can't we work this out like civilized people?"

"He's trying to protect a killer," Yeoman said icily. "You got a hell of a lot of nerve calling anyone a killer, Danny boy," Jay snapped back.

"This isn't about me," Yeoman said.

"Stop it!" Tachyon cried. He looked over at Brennan. "Daniel, there must be some mistake. I know Hiram Worchester. I have known him for close on two decades now, in good times and bad. He is a good man. Even if I believed for a moment that Hiram was capable of such an act, he was here in Atlanta at the convention while Chrysalis was being murdered in Jokertown: He couldn't have done it."

Jay glanced back at Hiram uncomfortably. "Well," he admitted with vast reluctance, "that's not quite true. I checked the airline schedules. If he took the last flight out and the first flight back, he'd never have been missed. But Carnifex could have caught the same flights. Same for Braun, or any of them."

"That can easily be verified," Tachyon pointed out. "Even if Hiram used an assumed name, a man of his size would have been noticed."

"Then check it if that's what it takes to convince you," Brennan said. "I have all the proof I need."

"What about a motive?" Jay demanded. "Or don't you bother with things like that? Motives, chains of evidence, courtrooms, what a fucking nuisance, right? Your way is a lot simpler. Danny Brennan says he's guilty, time to kill the poor bastard."

"I have evidence," Brennan replied curtly. "Enough to convince me that it's true."

"As far as I can see, you don't have jack shit except for a deck of cards you found in some coat pocket," Jay said. "Jay makes a good point," Tachyon put in. "Do you have any proof that Hiram brought the cards to this apartment?"

"The kitchen cabinets were full of expensive gourmet foods. There was every kind of utensil you can imagine, everything a gourmet cook like Worchester would need. And the jacket was white linen, expensive, fashionable, customtailored. Size 68 long. Chrysalis was killed by an ace. How many aces wear that size?"

Silence filled the room.

Jay turned to look behind him. Hiram still sat on the corner of the bed. He was not using his gravity power; the mattress tilted ominously under his massive weight. His face was pale and damp, his shoulders slumped, his eyes still fixed on the ace of spades that lay at his feet.

The stillness lasted an eon. All three of them were looking at Hiram now. The big ace seemed oblivious until Tachyon finally, softly, said, "Hiram?"

Then he looked up, and sighed hugely. His eyes were sad and sick. "Yes, doctor?" he asked.

"Are ou all right?" Tach asked gently.

"No," Hiram said. "I haven't been all right for some time."

"This is crazy," Jay said. "Hiram, don't just sit there. Tell him that he's wrong."

"I wish I could," Hiram said with quiet dignity. "You don't know how much I wish that."

"What are you saying?" Tachyon asked, dread in his voice. "You don't mean to say that these accusations are true? "

Hiram nodded, his eyes far off and full of pain. The big man seemed to be having trouble speaking. "I… I'm sorry." Then it was Jay who had no words.

"There must be some explanation," Tachyon said. "I cannot accept this. You're a good man, a man of courage and integrity."

"Ti Malice," Jay blurted. "That fucking thing was riding you, using you, your powers, your body." He swung around to face Brennan. "You don't understand the situation. Hiram was a victim. Even if he did do it, he was only the instrument."

"No, Jay," Hiram interrupted quietly. "I appreciate your loyalty, but… it wasn't like that. It was me. Just me. God help me." He fell silent again, eyes turned inward.

"Hiram, tell us," Tachyon implored.

For a moment Hiram didn't seem to hear. Then the big ace began to speak. His voice was weary, so quiet they had to strain to hear. "I needed the kiss," he began simply. "That was why I flew back to New York that night. The last flight out, just as Jay surmised. You don't know what it was like to go without the kiss… I needed it badly."

"So I flew back up, and went to him secretly. There were always other… other mounts about. Ti Malice was never alone. When I arrived, he was mounted on Sascha. But my… my master was pleased to see me. He left Sascha and gave me his kiss."

"That was when Sascha told me. He was angry. It was an act of spite. I'd taken Ti Malice away from him, you see, and there is nothing so awful in the world. He wanted to hurt me, so he told me that Chrysalis had hired a man to assassinate Gregg Hartmann. He knew how hard I'd worked, how much hope and faith and trust I'd put in Gregg. Sascha had picked it out of her mind just that morning. He was only a skimmer, you know, the poorest kind of telepath, but her plan must have been right there on the surface of her mind."