THE TWINS SPENT a little time in a drunken inquisition of Jak, trying to find out exactly what he and Ryan and the others did for a living, where they’d been and where they were going. But the teenager was sober enough to hold his tongue, offering them virtually no information at all.
Eventually they became tired of his stubborn silences and left the table, tottering off, arm in arm, heading for the roulette tables.
Jak picked himself a slice of a strongly flavored goats’ cheese, cutting it up and spreading it on a slice of soda bread. He drained his cup of coffee and waved away the waiter who came to offer him more food and drink.
“Enough, thanks,” he said.
He didn’t want to go straight back to the cabin he shared with Doc, favoring some fresh air first. He walked through the gambling saloons on his way out, being careful to try to avoid being sucked into the action around the tables.
The only moment of trouble came when a fat, scented, overdressed fifty-year-old man wearing florid clothes and a rakishly tilted wig, approached him.
“Care to keep me company, my pretty little boy?” One hand was on his arm, the other groping toward Jak’s groin.
“No,” the youth replied, pushing him away.
But the powdered queen was too drunk or too hopped up on jolt to see the danger and hear the threat in the teenager’s voice, persisting.
“Got a good cabin, laddie. You can do anything you want to me. Like leather, and I could lie on the floor and let you” His pocked face pressed close to Jak’s cheek, so that the young man could taste the rancid breath.
Jak didn’t hesitate. His hand went like a striking rattler to the concealed sheath at the small of his back, coming out with one of his leaf-bladed throwing knives. He slid it close to the man’s body, so that none of the men and women around saw what was happening, touching the needle tip to the flabby wattles of the lecher’s throat.
“Walk away quiet or I slit you open,” Jak hissed.
“Didn’t mean Pay you well if you’re nice. Can treat me mean”
The knife dipped in harder, drawing a stream of crimson. “Shut fuck up or chill you,” the albino snarled, feeling the warmth of blood across the back of his hand.
“All right, all right” The man recognized the reality of the situation and his imminent danger of dying under the steel of the ruby-eyed, crazy kid. Backing off, he reached for a kerchief and dabbed at the bleeding gash in his throat.
JAK WENT ON DECK, looking out at the tree-lined shore where they were moored for the night. It was near-dark, with tendrils of mist hovering over the water of the Sippi.
He was on the port side of the stern-wheeler, toward the rear, relishing the cool dampness of the air after the smoke-filled interior of the boat.
There was nobody around Jak as he leaned on the iron rail, watching the ripples of the big river passing along the flank of the boat. Listening to its whispering.
“Good evening, young man.” The dark voice was soft and sibilant.
Jak spun, finding himself surrounded by two sec men with drawn blasters, an enormously fat man, smiling at him, teeth white in the dim light, and a tall, skinny man with eyes that oddly reflected the rising moon.
He recognized them from Ryan’s descriptions.
The Magus and Gert Wolfram.
Chapter Seventeen
“You’re sure it was them?”
Jak nodded. “Told you what looked like. What you think, Ryan?”
“I think it was Wolfram and the Magus. Can’t be two other men looking like them in all Deathlands.”
Jak was sitting on the double bed in Ryan and Krysty’s cabin. J.B. and Doc and Mildred were in the room, either perched on the sofa or standing around, listening to the deeply disturbing account of the encounter on the deck.
“Never said names. Talked about how knew you from times past. Seemed to know all of us. Knew I was from bayous. Knew Mildred had been frozen. Knew Doc was time-trawled.”
“They mention Dean? Being in the school up in Colorado?” Ryan asked worriedly. The thought that such a notorious and evil couple had come gibbering out of the past filled with such dangerous knowledge was deeply disturbing. There were profound blood scars between Wolfram and the Magus and himself and J.B., back from the days with the Trader. And if they knew that he had a son, and where he was living, then the boy could become a vulnerable pawn in a murderous game.