3
-45:42
Tom awoke and stretched. He felt crummy. A
little nausea, a thick tongue, burning nostrils. Now he remembered
why he’d kicked that habit.
Still, last night’s little toot had got him
through his bad case of the downs. Didn’t make today look any
better, though.
He checked the clock: after ten. He hadn’t
heard from Jack. Not that he expected to, but he was eager to learn
what he and Gia had found during their all-nighter.
He forced himself upright, waited for the
room to stop wobbling, then checked out the bedside phone. Three
speed-dial buttons. He pressed number one.
Someone picked up alter three rings.
Jack.
“Hey, it’s Tom. Any luck last night?”
“Yeah. Lucky for you. You had your sorry ass
yanked out of the fire.”
“You mean—?”
“Yeah. Gia found something in the book that
erased Vicky’s Stain.”
“Oh, thank God! That’s wonderful news!”
And he meant it. Now he might work his way
back into Gia’s good graces. And of course it was a relief that her
little girl was out of danger.
“For you too,” Jack said. “You get to live a
little longer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind. Just count yourself
lucky.”
And then Tom was holding a dead phone. Jack
had hung up on him. Must be still pissed at him.
Who cared?
Tom did a quick wash-up, dressed, then headed
for the street. He caught a cab on Columbus Avenue and told the
driver to take him to Eight Sutton Square.