'Cute,' I said.
Ann eyed me, smiling dryly. 'Friend of yours?'
'In no ways, shape, or form-all of which she lacks.'
'Cute,' said the tyke.
I tapped a cigarette out of my pack. 'Couldn't you go find a Shriner's convention and leave us alone? We're discussing negative theology.'
She smiled a girlish little grin and winked at me in an adorable, innocent manner that made me want to kick her. She turned quickly and, ladylike, sashayed to another table.
The balding man there smiled through fat lips and leaned forward to welcome her, speaking quietly.
'A pretty child,' Ann said, suddenly stiff as a schoolteacher.
'Pretty screwed up. In more than one sense.' I tossed down my drink and sat back to scan the bar.
The gazes of several men, young and old, drifted toward Ann, only to drift away as though they saw her and just as quickly forgot her. Ann ignored them without any effort. Her long fingers stroked the sides of her glass, picking up droplets of moisture. She parted her rowan-hued lips to say something. A voice behind me interrupted her.
'Call for Mr. Dell Ammo.' The waiter had been walking up and down the lounge, his voice carrying just enough to reach the tables he passed.
I stood to catch his attention.
'Mr. Ammo?'
I nodded.
'A telephone call for you.'
I followed him to the telephones and stepped into the booth that he indicated. I thanked him and crumpled a fiver into his hand. He looked at it, mentally converted it from last week's value to this week's, and smiled broadly.
I lifted the receiver to my ear.
'Ammo,' I said.
The voice on the other end was as smooth as a mortician's slab.
'Ammo-get off this God caper of yours. Zacharias is one washedup preacher. Get wise-you're up against people who mean business.'
'Yeah?' I retorted suavely. I couldn't place his accent. This was getting so overblown that I didn't even care about playing dumb. 'What's it to you? If He exists, I'm no match for Him. If He doesn't, I'm only wasting my own time.'
The voice spoke with slow amusement.
'Let's just say that the stakes in this particular game are high enough that it wouldn't even be worth your while to play.'
The line clicked, followed by the buzzing silence of a disconnection. I hung up the receiver.
I hadn't figured anyone would take this whole affair seriously, let alone catch on to me so quickly. Now I had to plan more than a 'killing' that would bring me a steady income. I had to protect myself from a second nut or gang of nuts. Great.
I mulled the problem over while walking back to the table.
Ann was gone.
The attache case lay open on her table setting, its output screen alight. Bright orange letters glowed against a black background.
