Ripping Time by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

Kit just groaned.

Goldie muttered, “Lovely, this is all we need. What could possibly be worse than a pack of militant feminists whose sole aim in life is to ram their religion down other people’s throats at the point of a bayonet?”

Li let the bombshell drop just as Goldie lined up another shot. “You remember Senator John Caddrick, don’t you? That nut who outlaws everything he doesn’t agree with? The one who’s been agitating about the dangers to modern society from time tourism? Well, it seems the Ansar Majlis have kidnapped his only kid. After killing his sister-in-law and about sixty other people in a New York restaurant. He’s threatening to shut down every time terminal in the business unless his little girl’s returned to him alive and well.”

Goldie’s shot went wild. So wild, in fact, the five ball jumped off the table and smacked into the floor with a thud. Goldie’s curse peeled paint off the ceiling.

“Ooh, Goldie,” Robert looked about as contrite as a well-fed cat, “sorry about that, Duchess.”

The hated nickname which Skeeter Jackson had given La-La Land’s most infamous money changer, combined with the ruin of her game, sent Goldie into a rage so profound, she couldn’t even squeeze sound past the purple-hued knot of distended veins in her throat. She just stood there glaring at the antiquities dealer, cue in hand, sputtering like a dying sparkler.

Kit threw back his head and crowed. “Robert, you are a prince among men!” He snatched up his pool cue, replaced the five ball on the felt, and calmly ran the table while Goldie stood flexing the narrow end of her pool cue until Kit feared the wood would crack. When the final ball rattled into the far corner pocket, Kit bowed, sweeping his arm around in a courtly flourish. “Goldie, thank you for a lovely game.”