Jack stared at Hartmann, cynicism ringing in his mind like funeral bells. Was Gregg serious-lives and sanity and prison terms balanced against his own worthless loss of dignity?

Hartmann had to be laughing behind that sincere expression, making fun of him.

Jack shook his head. From the time he'd met him aboard the Stacked Deck, Hartmann had been a man who could make Jack feel good about himself. What he was saying now wasn't substantially different from what he'd said to Jack before. But now the message seemed the reflex posturing of a politician, not the message of a concerned friend.

"Is something wrong, Gregg?" Jack blurted.

Hartmann dropped his hand, turned partly away. "Sorry," he said. "Things have been a little strained."

"You need some rest."

"Guess we all do." Hartmann cleared his throat. "Charles said you did some good work for us last night."

"I got some congressmen drunk and laid, is all." Hartmann gave a laugh. "Charles has given me their names and room numbers. I'll be phoning them as soon as we've finished breakfast. Perhaps-"

The door opened. Jack jumped, spilling coffee. He turned and saw, not Hiram Worchester, but Amy. Embarrassed at his nervousness, Jack reached for a napkin.

"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. I just got a phone call from Furs in Jokertown. It's a potential problem. Chrysalis has just been found dead in New York. Ace abilities were involved."

Surprise stumbled into Jack's mind. He'd spent months with Chrysalis aboard the Stacked Deck, and although he'd never been comfortable around her-the organs and muscle visible through the transparent flesh reminded Jack of too many things he'd seen in World War II and Korea he'd developed an abstract admiration for the way Chrysalis handled her deformity, the cultured accent, cigarette holder, antique playing cards, and dry style.

Hartmann's face went rigid. When the candidate spoke, his voice was strained. "Any more details?"