We wandered through the drugstore, picking up the necessary contraband. As long as we were in Auberge, we could buy and do pretty much what we wished.
Once we left the complex, we were subject to the drearier laws of the City and County of Los Angeles, State of California, United States of America. Which would mean we'd be about as safe as we were in Auberge, but we'd have to handle our own bribes.
Ann placed the drugs in an attache case while I forked over some gold to the proprietor of Selene Pharmaceuticals, whose paisley shirt sported a patch embroidered with the name Tom. He hardly raised an eyebrow at the way in which we cleaned out his inventory of psychoactive drugs. His mind was quite probably elsewhere.
I lugged the attache out of the store. 'All we need now is a spaceship.'
'I've been checking into that,' Ann said. 'Commercial Phoenix flights are all booked for the next five months, and no one is willing to sublet us some room. I even went as far as finding out about the two old NASA shuttles. It turns out that they're such rusty hulks, they'd cost billions to get working again.'
'Well, we can't do it from the ground. The direct broadcast satellites can only be modified in orbit.'
She smiled. 'There is a way. A company called StratoDyne has filed Chapter Eleven bankruptcy.'
I snorted. 'I don't think even Zacharias has enough dough to buy a shuttle manufacturer.'
'He won't have to. The owner will give us the company and its one working shuttle for practically nothing.'
That puzzled me a tad. 'Why do you think that?'
She smiled wickedly. 'He draws to inside straights.'
It was all she had to say.
16
Poker
The first blast of autumn cold blew through Old Downtown the next night. Twilight colored the sky a deep, somber red as Ann and I made our way from my office to Auberge. Wind eddied around the little hill and headed toward Westwood and Santa Monica. The frigid breeze transformed street dust and paper trash into dancing spirits, whirling like drunken showgirls down the avenues and alleys.
We passed through the security entrance to head for the Casino of the Angels. I wore a tux for one of the rare times in my life. Basic black with a light blue shirt that lacked all the effeminate ruffles that seemed currently in fashion. If I was a sore thumb, I was proud of it.
Ann had somehow managed to adhere an emerald evening gown to her skin. No detail of her allure could hide beneath the clinging fabric. She found some way to breathe, though. Did she ever....
A slit in the dress traveled up her left thigh to where it had no business being. A slender blue garter peeked out with every graceful step she took.
I expected half the casino to suffer myocardial infarction when she entered. No one gave her as much as a mild glance.
Eunuchs. Or worse.
She took a seat at the no-limit poker table. Familiar faces haunted that patch of green felt. Big time gamblers. She was ready to slaughter them in her own lovely way.
'The one in the grey sharkskin suit with the pink shirt is George,' she whispered back to me without turning her eyes from the action.
I made a noncommittal sound and left the table. It might take a while for her to up the stakes. I sauntered over to the dining area.
I returned an hour or so later. The first words I heard from the table were, 'Jesus Fucking Christ!'
The skinny, dark-haired man in the sharkskin suit and pink shirt threw down his cards in disgust. He made a motion as if standing to leave, then plopped back in his seat again.
'One more,' he muttered, 'one more.'
George was a born target.
Ann smiled at him. She didn't have to breathe a word. Her expression said it all quite plainly:
