Torch Song: A Kickass Heroine, A Post-Apocalyptic World: Book One Of The Blackjack Trilogy

by Shelley Singer

  Jo shrugged. “Could be.” Oh, the hell with it. “Yes, I think she might be. And I think you think she might be, too, or you wouldn’t be so damned hysterical about it.” The poor little man looked miserable.

  “Well, who do you think she’s spying for?”

  Was it possible she was working for Rocky? No. She just couldn’t see it. Still, if Rica was a merc she’d work for anyone. No. Rica wouldn’t work for Rocky. Yes, no, maybe.

  “Newt.” That seemed the most likely.

  He looked truly shocked. “No. Rica could never work for that creature.”

  “I hope not.”

  “You’re not going to hurt her or anything, are you?”

  “Timmy, how evil do you think I am?” She was evil enough. If she were sure that Rica was a threat to the Coleman plans, she’d have to get rid of her somehow. But it wouldn’t be easy. And she suspected, as well, that Rica wouldn’t just disappear the way Hannah had. Hannah looked tougher, but Rica had something better inside her.

  “I don’t think you’re evil. Not at all. You know that. But you are determined.” He hesitated. “I would do anything for you, Jo. But I never said I would be any good at this kind of thing. Any more than I’d be a good soldier.”

  He was just too decent. She wondered, now, whether it would be a good idea, after all, to put him on the cabinet. Could a man that decent be an effective politician? As long as it was the cabinet, and not the council, probably. A support position for the mayor, rather than an elective office with power of its own.

  Yes. He’d be fine on the cabinet.

  “Okay, Tim. Don’t worry about it anymore. Go on to work.” He dashed off, happy to be out of the corner she’d put him in.

  She needed to put the Rica question aside for a while to deal with the day’s election business. Monte had drawn up some rough posters for Zack’s candidacy, as well as his own, Emmy’s and Judith’s. She needed to take a look at them and make any changes she thought they needed. They were stacked on the easel in the corner. She stood and walked over to them. Judith’s was simple, strong. “Judith Coleman. A leader who will stand for Tahoe in Hangtown. Vax for all!” The posters were new but they were out of date already. They needed to lean on the protection angle, but Monte didn’t know yet that the Rockies had “confessed” to being point men for an invasion. That news would come out the next day, Saturday. After “Hangtown,” she added the words “and keep Sierra safe from her enemies.”

  She carried the roughs to her desk to work on them.

  Zack’s poster for the mayor’s race focused on the town’s economic health. That was an important part of the job and she didn’t want the people to think he’d forgotten it, but she added: “Tahoe, the first line of defense for Sierra.” Not strictly true geographically, but true in terms of strength. And then, she wrote, Zack was “A strong man to draw that line in the snow.”

  Smiling to herself, she read her handiwork again. Not bad. The snow wouldn’t start falling for a couple of months, but the image was good anyway.

  Iggy Santos had tried to send out a blog about the captured Rockies but so few people had gotten it even the rumors were slow-moving. He’d promised her the front page of Saturday’s Sierra Star would be dedicated to their confession, with sidebars on how people felt about that danger, including quotes from Judith and Samm. As concerned citizens. Sometime in the next few days she’d renew Blackjack’s order for a month of full-page ads. They had a good arrangement.

  Once the paper was out, the candidates would have something to roar about besides vax. Then, on Sunday, the posters would go up.

  She called the Lucky Buck motel, letting them know she’d be renting their courtyard for some town meetings and rallies, starting Monday. By Monday, the town would be nicely revved up. She clipped a note to Judith’s poster, telling Monte to add flyers announcing Monday’s rally and hang them right above the posters.

  As she was stacking them back on the easel, her sys buzzed. It was the spy she’d had checking on Rica.

  “Jo— I talked to a guy who knows a guy who says Rica Marin is a merc. He was involved in a job she did in Redwood a couple years ago. She was using a different name that time, but the description is exact and he says he knew her as Rica, too. I think you can safely bet you’ve got a merc there. The woman he met lived in Redwood, north of San Francisco.”

  So that was that. “Thanks, Theo. Anything more?”

  “No, ’fraid that’s it.”

  She’d have to make sure she kept Theo happy. He did good work.

  They signed off. Brainlessly, she caught herself hoping that Rica was in Tahoe because she was taking some time off or even quitting the merc business. Didn’t mercs ever retire? Surely they must. Rica was probably in her late thirties, like Jo. Maybe she wanted to leave spying to younger women.

  She laughed at herself, out loud. Sure. Strong, healthy, smart people like Rica always quit jobs that paid big money so they could work in a casino for a tenth of the pay. Happened every day.

  Now Jo needed to find out for sure who Rica was working for: Newt, the chief, or Rocky. Again, though, she refused to believe it was Rocky. Especially if Rica was from Redwood. Newt on his own was a strong possibility even if Timmy found it hard to believe. Mercs didn’t always know the people they hired out to before they started. As for the chief, she generally tried to do her job, and she wanted to keep it. But if she was involved, Jo thought she was probably being pushed by Newt and wouldn’t have come after Blackjack on her own. She had bets to hedge so close to the elections.

  First of all, the chief would be more worried about the council coming in than about the current council, which had only a month left in office. Not really enough time to remove her even if they thought she was ignoring blatant lawbreaking. They’d have to act fast, the neutrals would have to go along, and the whole lame duck bunch, with the exception of Newt’s pet councilmember, would need to be more motivated than they probably were to spend their last few weeks making enemies.

  Jo was sure the Colemans would win the elections. If Chief Graybel thought so too, she’d be careful about offending them.

  But then, she didn’t know what the chief was thinking. She also didn’t know whether she’d want to keep the woman in her job once she and Judith controlled the Council. She was competent, but she needed to be strong and loyal, too. And compliant. Frank with brains.

  Rica was giving Jo a way to get some answers about the chief, so she might as well just bull right into it. She tried two of Graybel’s numbers and reached her on the second try.

  “Good evening, Helen. This is Jo Coleman.”

  “Jo! Nice to hear from you.” Jo knew that was halfway true, anyway. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve just found out that there’s a strong possibility that someone who’s working in the casino is really a merc. Her name is Rica Marin. Would you know anything about that?”

  She grinned at the full five seconds of silence that followed. Now she was sure the chief was involved in the spying, which made it even more unlikely that Rica’d been sent by Rocky. That, at least, was a relief.

  “What makes you think she’s there as a merc?”

  “It’s probable.”

  “Hmm.” The chief was buying time. “Who do you think she’s working for?”

  What Jo wanted to say at that point was “I think she’s working for you.” But she controlled herself.

  What she did say was, “I don’t know. Just thought I’d check with you and see if you’d heard anything about her or what she’s doing here. I have no idea why she’d be working in our casino.”

  “No, this is the first time I’ve heard the name. I haven’t heard a thing about her.” Of course she had, if only because Rica was the star of Blackjack’s lounge. That was a stupid lie. Jo waited, silent, to see if she could make the chief even more uncomfortable. “Got another call. Let me know what you find out, Jo.” And she was gone.

  If the chief was one of Rica’s employers,
as her tense silences and quick escape indicated she was, she now had fair warning that her spy had been outed.

  She could tell Rica, pull her off the job, and send her home. That would protect Rica but it would also expose Graybel’s role in sending a spy against the Colemans. One conversation between Jo and the chief and Rica was gone. Obvious.

  On the other hand, if she was herself feeling busted and was willing to sacrifice her merc to save herself, she might not tell her at all. That would put Rica in danger and protect the chief. It would show that the chief was afraid of the Colemans, that she believed that Jo and Judith were not far from wielding the kind of power that could either give a job to, or take it away from, a regional chief.

  What she did depended on how politic she was at heart and how duplicitous she was willing to be.

  Should be interesting to watch. Would Rica stay, or would she leave?

  And if she stayed, what was Jo going to do about her?

  * * *

  I had to come up with a good reason I could give Samm for wanting to join his army. If he asked how I’d found out that there was one, I’d mumble vaguely, say, as I’d said to Timmy, that I’d overheard something, and I didn’t want to betray a confidence.

  But my motive for joining had to sound viable. I didn’t know whether the army job paid anything, but if it did, that would certainly give any server-singer a motive to play soldier. Better to sound practical than to babble about loyalty I’d had no time to feel.

  He showed up at his poker table later that evening; he was there dealing when I finished my show.

  “Hey, Samm.” He looked up, those dark, sloping, Asian-looking eyes a little tired but still shooting plenty of flash. The full lips smiled at me. I couldn’t see any suspicion in his look. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  He nodded, waving a dealer over from an empty blackjack table. I fell into step beside him; we walked toward the covering noise of the slots.

  “What can I do for you, Rica?” The words were a sexual challenge. Tempting. Even more tempting because there was always that hint of laughing at himself. I liked the man. I wondered what he’d do if I responded to his dare.

  “I’ve heard you have a military corps— police? mercs?— I’m not sure. I’d like to find out more about it. See if it’s something I might want to do.” I shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Or if it’s something I could do.”

  He gazed at a clanging slot. Not a blush, not a shift in the cast of his mouth or eyes. Nothing. He acted like he wasn’t surprised I’d heard about it. Maybe it was less of a secret than I thought.

  “Why would you want to?”

  “For the money— I heard it paid.”

  “It does. But not a lot.”

  “For the excitement, too. I love singing, but sometimes I want to get out and do something more physical. More adventurous. I’d like to learn more about combat or protection or whatever it is you do.” I tossed him a subtle smile. “It’s a dangerous world.”

  “That it is. How’d you find out we had some troops?”

  I shrugged again. “I would have been more surprised if you didn’t. Especially after that merc attack. If that kind of thing happens often, you couldn’t just sit still for it. You and the Colemans have a lot to protect.” That sounded pretty good.

  He studied my face. The scrutiny was almost intimidating. He knew I hadn’t answered his question, and he was trying to make up his mind whether to challenge the omission or not. He decided not to.

  “Tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the back door at 7 a.m. and take you to where we’re training. You won’t get much sleep tonight, after working until one.” A quick flash of smile. I smiled back.

  I nodded. “I’ll meet you.”

  So I had to be taken to the site. Could be standard procedure with new members, trying to conceal the location from someone he didn’t trust yet.

  He turned back toward his table. “Sorry I missed your show tonight. Don’t be late in the morning.”

  “I won’t.”

  Up in my room, later, I left a message about the army for Newt, and called the chief. She answered.

  “Something going on, Rica?” She sounded tense. Or irritated.

  “I wanted you to know I’m about to join the Coleman army.”

  “You are?” A moment’s silence. “That’s good, Rica.” Why did she keep saying my name that way? She sounded like she was rehearsing some kind of speech that was all bad news.

  “Is there something wrong?” I asked. Again, she hesitated. The sys was flashing. Another message was coming through. It was Newt. He could wait.

  “No, of course not. But I don’t have to tell you— be careful. You’re heading into dangerous territory now.”

  I’d been in dangerous territory all along. What was so different about now?

  “Do you know something I don’t know?”

  “No!” She almost barked. “Sorry, I have to go.”

  Should I be getting as twitchy as she sounded? I’d always trusted Helen Graybel and she’d never failed to pay, never lied to me that I knew of. But there had been a lot of strange little pieces of one-on-one that day. Jo’s near-avoidance. Timmy’s coolness and probing. Samm’s apparently easy acceptance that I knew there was an army. Now this. None of it had to mean anything, no single piece was a strong indicator of trouble. But all together, at the very least, it hinted something was off. Maybe it had nothing to do with me. Maybe each of these people was having some kind of problem. The more I tried to think that was the case the more I called myself a liar.

  So whatever each of them was doing, whatever each was thinking about me, I needed to look so innocent that mere suspicion would drift away. And hope there was nothing more to it than that. The chief’s behavior worried me the most.

  But it was the message from Newt that really stunned me.

  “When Hannah comes back, you be ready to help her or I’m not paying you. And oh yes,” he cackled, “first you may have to talk her out of killing you. She doesn’t like that you took her job.”

  When Hannah comes back? Killing me? I was in no mood to deal with his craziness. I called the chief again. She wasn’t answering. I left a few words. “Possible you may be covering the whole tab now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ours. Theirs. Mine.

  The chief called a couple of hours after I’d gone to bed.

  “What did you mean by your message? About the tab?”

  “Newt seems to be blaming me for Hannah’s leaving. Says she’s going to kill me. I’m thinking he doesn’t want to pay me.”

  “Didn’t you say he told you to join the Coleman army? Did he recant on that?”

  “No.”

  “I talked to him last night. He’s still in. Just very, very burned. Panicky. He was relying on Hannah.” She hesitated. Cleared her throat. “I think you should consider dropping this whole thing. Take the money you’ve made. Get out while you can. I would have no problem with that.”

  “Because of Hannah? Not a chance.” I could handle that woman. My pride wouldn’t let me run from her. Awfully nice of the chief, though. Too nice.

  Again, there was that silence. “What are you not telling me, Graybel?”

  “Just watch your backside.”

  “Even when you’re behind me?”

  “Yes.” And she was gone.

  Okay, a tox-bomb didn’t have to fall on me. My best guess: the Colemans had found out something, she knew it, and she was afraid to cross them.

  Yes. I was sure. That was the only conclusion I could come to, with the puzzle pieces glued. Glued by her obvious and sudden step-back. Come to think of it she had just given me another important bit of information. She’d told me not to trust her, which meant I never should, or would, again. My only consolation— it was 3 a.m. She wasn’t sleeping too well.

  So the people I was spying on knew more about me than was safe. One of my bosses wouldn’t mind if I was murdered, and the other one was hiding dangerous informa
tion.

  I still had the attractive option of hopping into Electra and scooting away from this mess. But I felt nowhere near finished. Those Rockies wheeling around my turf had me scared to death, even more scared than I was of what the chief wasn’t telling me. Redwood needed to stay the way it was. Independent from the Colemans, and from Rocky too. I didn’t think there was much I could do about Rocky with the Colemans standing in the middle doing god knew what, so I had to deal with them first.

  If I did manage to get real evidence against them before I ran out of time, what would I do with what I learned? Take it to the Sierra Council? They could already be in the Coleman pocket, like the chief. Take it to Redwood? Redwood didn’t have an army and none of the chiefs there had ever sent me to spy on another country. I’d need a lot of proof that there was a threat from Sierra before they’d even agree to be suspicious.

  And I wasn’t feeling too great about my skills as a merc. I’d turned in a miserable performance that day. Maybe the worst ever. But it was the only way I knew to stay alive.

  And I wondered how alive I’d stay running around Tahoe with a target on my back.

  * * *

  Drew was dressing for the day’s training. He was also stewing about Jo and Rica. He didn’t hate either one of them, he was just upset. He’d been busy dealing with Lizzie and Billy and the Hannah issue, but the sight of Jo and Rica together had come back to haunt him at night, all week long.

  Of course. It was going to be either Samm or Jo, if not both of them. Why had he ever thought she could be interested in him? He was just a kid to her. He’d been stupid, getting all messy. He knew what his mother would say— hell, he knew what Jo would say. “Find a nice girl your own age.”

  Shit. There were maybe five or six dozen girls anywhere close to his age living in and around Tahoe, and most of them were dumb. Or taken. Or not his type. He’d dated some of them and at best he’d been bored. Maybe what he needed to do was go someplace bigger. Just get the hell out of Tahoe. Sacramento was too small. San Francisco. Somewhere in the whole Bay Area there must be someone who would make him feel the way Rica did. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to hang around anyway. Not sure his mother and Jo were right about things.