'Don't make it worse!' he shouted at her. 'Don't lie to me!'
Tears streamed down her face as she tried to shrink from him. 'Arthur, please don't-'
'How did you know?'
'Morgan told me!' she screamed. 'She told me they would be. She arranged for everything.' She was speaking desperately, words tumbling one over the other. 'But she just told me she wanted the sword. That's all. She swore no one would be hurt. I thought-'
'And you provided the distraction.' His words were cold, burning with an icy flame that blazed in his eyes.
'Yes. But-'
He shoved her away roughly and stood there, fists clenched as he trembled with repressed fury. 'Damn you! How could you betray me again!'
She staggered toward him, her body racked with sobs. 'Arthur, please. I had no choice.
Lance-'
'Don't talk to me. Don't even look at me.' His voice was pure venom. 'You're not fit for human company!'
He staggered away from her as the cameramen descended. 'Mr. Penn, what does it feel like being the man of the hour?' the newsmen were shouting. 'What were you thinking when you were hanging from the side of that burning building? Did you think you were going to die? How did you feel about-'
Arthur grabbed the first newsman who came within arm's length and shoved him roughly out of the way. He spun and shouted, 'Get away from me!
Just ... leave me . . .' His voice caught as he looked at Gwen's tear-stained face. 'Leave me alone.'
He limped away into the darkness, illuminated briefly in the flickering of the rapidly dying fire.
It was late at night in Central Park. The moon was obscured by clouds, and there were no sounds other than a young woman pounding on the uncaring stones of Belvedere Castle.
The sides of her hands were abraded from the stone as she continued to smash her hands against the wall in supplication. 'Arthur, please let me in,' sobbed Gwen. 'You've got to let me explain!'
There was a tap on her shoulder and she whirled around. 'Oh, Arthur, I-'
'No, my sweet,' said Morgan quietly. 'It's not Arthur.'
'You! You . . . bitch!' She leaped at Morgan, fingernails bared like claws. Morgan caught her flailing wrists and tossed her roughly to the ground. She stood over Gwen and laughed harshly. 'What a pathetic little fool you are.' She nodded toward the castle. 'Arthur's not in there.'
'How do you-'
'I know a great deal about a great deal. Arthur's wandering the streets right now,' said Morgan easily. 'Angry. Confused. Hurt. I could attack him now, and probably defeat him utterly. But I've waited far too long to dispose of him so quickly. No, we'll let him stew. You, on the other hand, little queen,' and she smiled menacingly, 'you have served your purpose.'
In a pure, white-hot fury, Gwen hiked up the hem of her evening dress and swept out with her legs. She knocked Morgan's legs out from under her, sending the sorceress toppling to the ground with her. Within moments she was upon Morgan, tearing at her hair, her eyes, her face. Morgan shrieked in anger and indignation.
Gwen felt herself abruptly being hauled off of Morgan's writhing body. She flailed at the men who stood on either side of them.
'Whoa! Hey! C'mon, slugger,' said Chico, struggling to hold onto the infuriated Gwen. 'This is, whattaya call, undignified.'
Gwen stopped, looking from Chico to Groucho and back again. 'What are you guys doing here?' she demanded.
'We live here,' said Chico simply. 'That's how we first met the king. And now we see you and this nice lady who you were tryin' to kill. I tell ya, y'meet the best people in the park.'
Morgan staggered to her feet. 'You'll regret that,' she said, gingerly touching the scratches where Gwen had raked her face. 'You'll regret that most dearly.'
'What are you going to do?' demanded Gwen. 'Kill me? I feel dead already. You couldn't hurt me any more than I've already hurt myself. Damn you! I should have gone straight to Arthur-'
'Yes. You should have,' said Morgan with a twisted smile. 'Are you wondering where your precious Lance is? I still have him. And you know why? Because he doesn't want to leave. It seems he's developed a fondness for bondage. Isn't that interesting?'
Chico raised an eyebrow. 'Well, it's certainly got my interest.'
'You're lying,' snarled Gwen. 'You lie about everything.'
'Not about this,' said Morgan. 'I don't need to lie about this. Tell me-does Arthur ask you to talk dirty, the way Lance does with me?'
Gwen stared at her in shock. 'My God. It was all for nothing.'
'Yes.' Morgan laughed. 'All for nothing. That's all it ever was. That's all it ever will be.'
Groucho took a step forward. There was a switchblade in his hand and a distracted tone in his voice. 'You know, I don't like you.'
Morgan stared at him for a time, and then she turned in an abrupt swirl of her long black cape. She strode off into the darkness and merged with the shadows.
Chico shook his head. 'She must be zero fun at parties.' He turned to Gwen and shook his shaggy head. 'You look so sad.'
'I had it,' said Gwen. 'I had it all. And I lost it. And I can blame Morgan, or Lance, or anybody I want.'
Groucho stepped forward. 'You can blame me if you'd like.'
She smiled unevenly and patted his thick beard. She then unconsciously wiped her hand on her dress as she said, 'That's sweet. But what I'm trying to say is that there's really nobody to blame but myself. That's the part that's tough to take.'
Chico nodded, not understanding in the least, but determined to be helpful. 'Gwen, if you'd like, you can stay with us tonight.'
'What, under a tree? Gee, that's nice, but'-she wiped her nose-'I don't think that would be, well, right.'
'Oh. You wanna, y'know, get married first?'
Gwen stared at him, and then, to her surprise, laughed. 'You know, Groucho-'
'I'm Chico.'
'I'm sorry. Chico. That's the first marriage proposal I've ever had in my life.'
'You gonna turn it down?'
She nodded. 'I'm afraid so.'
'Don't worry. You'll get lots of others.'
'I hope so. God, I hope so.' She patted him on the shoulder. 'Thanks anyway. I hope you're not too broken up.'
'I'll live,' said Chico.
'Okay,' smiled Gwen. 'Good night, then, boys.' She turned and walked off into the night.
Groucho slammed Chico in the shoulder. 'That was close! Idiot! What if she'd taken you up on it?'
Chico shrugged, massaging his hurt shoulder. 'She never would have. Pm Jewish. She's not.' He sighed. 'It'd never have worked.'
Chaptre the Fifteenth
Bernie Bittberg had been made the official Democratic candidate for mayor of New York City. The decision from the primary voting had been overwhelmingly in his favor, due to endorsements from the two New York newspapers, namely the Times and the Daily News-no one counted the Post-and from a concentrated media blitz that had effectively destroyed the credibility of his opponents' records.
So now, several weeks after that primary, and several weeks before the election, Bernie should have been happy. He was, in fact, anything but.
It was past midnight as he huddled with his staff in a classic smoke-filled room. Bernie sat forward, rubbing his eyes, his still-knotted necktie draped over the back of his chair, his vest open to allow for his considerable girth. Moe Dredd sat to his immediate right. The various officials who ran his campaign were also there, in varying
