Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

lobbed his dentures my way and flashed those big blue peepers. »This would entail your serving in the traditional agent provocateur position, Walter.«
    »Walter, you could do it in your sleep,« Martin said.
    »Probably done it in your sleep,« said Bennett.
    »There’s nothing to it –«
    All signs on this eightball pointed to no. Number one swoon tune in DC was Never Waltz With A Kennedy. Once you involved yourself, even with a third cousin of a third cousin, it was only a question of time till Old Black Joe, reliable as napalm, caught you and dipped you in his deep-fryer. Giving his public rap sheet the onceover could crack your mind like a bullwhip, and nobody knew scratch about the deals that strayed from the path en route to Grandma’s. His five boys couldn’t match him except in pawing frails, try as they might and by all indications they tried. Nature herself had taken the girls out of the competition, there were five of them but every one strangled themselves in the womb to keep from coming out. Every spring through the thirties the Kennedy Curse struck anew. Once between the cartoon and part six of Perils of Nyoka I caught a glimpse of the gang in the »Ten Years Ago Today« segment of The March of Time, filmed just before they went to London in 39’. They’d lost another one, the last. The boys wore black tie, Rose shrouded her weeds. Old Joe pried the top off the blarney jar and told the reporters Willa God, boys, all’s Jake but you got to watch Willa. She’ll get you every time.
    »Not a chance, not one in a million.«
    »Walter, you need to hear specifically,« Hamilton started to say, but I wasn’t listening. I heard something else.
    Help.
    Like I needed to see old brother Jell-O and his snoozy moll just then. They hung out by the cash register as if intending to clean out the till while a crony caused a distraction.
    Help us.
    Without signalling, my ghosts took the off-ramp and faded. I told myself I’d kicked back too long in the tub last night and was still pruny. But I wasn’t kidding anyone, the luck of genes makes my system flush like a storm drain. Possible, though, that this new product was time-release. That could bring any number of complications about on down the line. Might mean all kinds of trouble uptown as well but the Dupont Circle boys could find out on their own without a park ranger. Even now their slammerful of potential perps were probably tearing the roof off the drunk tank, ripping out the porcelain, shitting on the ceiling, standing there franks in hand and howling for the bastards to turn the northern lights back on.
    »What’s so funny, Walter?« I heard Bennett say.
    »Is he having a stroke?« Hamilton said.
    »Just weighing the odds against the house,« I testified, coming out of my stew, laying both hands near but not on the Big Book. »Pardon the trance.«
    »No question you’re the man for the job,« Martin said, and then demonstrated the folly of total self-assurance. »You’re Irish as they are, why wouldn’t it work?«
    Fortean ghosts were hard enough to bear but this took first prize in the Stupid awards. Something must have short-circuited in Martin’s head, or else he was feeling more comfy around these characters than he had any right to be. He was no more tater tot than I was, and he knew that as well as I did. Now neither of us played the rules according to Hoyle, and while no VIP players who might suspect ever admitted seeing us deal with our spades hidden, we knew they always kept their guns on the table. Couldn’t speak for my boss but I had no yen to scope scenic Guatemala and the deeper south unless I had a return ticket tight in my hand. It especially made me sweat buckets when his idle comment provoked Frye into burping up something other than chucks.
    »Black Irish, maybe.«
    Bad, bad news. No question his superior snagged it, but old Methuselah didn’t return fire. Martin’s mask slipped enough to show me he knew he’d been bugging too frantic on the canyon’s lip. »If you would hear us out, Mister Smith, you’d understand what a valuable opportunity this could prove to be for you,« Hamilton said, steepling his hands as if to pray to himself. » Carpe diem. A new world hitherto unimaginable to you will either open or close, depending upon your decision. May I continue?«
    His picnic basket was starting to sit heavy on my grave. »Pass the mustard,« I said.
    »What?«
    »Need to spread it on those fat slabs of spamola you’re