Turn of the Cards Read Online Free PDF Page B

arrived with a selection of pipes for sale — health regulations forbade lending or renting them out to customers. Somewhat self-consciously, Hamilton selected one. The waiter laid out his hash, along with steaming cups for Lynn and Helen. Belew waved him off.
    Helen Carlysle watched Hamilton prepare his pipe with wide hazel eyes that glittered with moisture. “I can’t believe you use that poison.”
    “We’ve been exposed to it before, ma’am,” said Lynn.
    He gave Belew a yeah, you were just joking, weren’t you? look and pried his eyes off him. “It’s called knowing your enemy.”
    “I thought your Mr. Bennett said drug use was intrinsically wrong.”
    Gary Hamilton paused with his pipe to his lips and his disposable lighter poised over the bowl. “It’s different for us.
    “She’s as likely to be talking about your coffee as his hash, Saxon. She doesn’t approve of caffeine either. She’s a very natural kind of lady, our Ms. Carlysle.”
    “You seem to know a great deal about me, Mr. Belew.”
    “I read Aces magazine, like anybody.”
    “We were just wondering why Meadows hasn’t turned up in the smoking cafés when you decided to grace us with your presence,” Saxon said.
    “It was sheer luck that he’s been spotted twice,” Helen said.
    Lynn Saxon frowned. “Don’t use that word, babe. It’s not luck. It’s professionalism. An Interpol stringer made him here initially — that was luck. We picked him up yesterday, just out cruising the streets. That was skill. The first team is very definitely on the job.”
    Our sources say he hasn’t been anywhere,” Hamilton said, letting out a mouthful of smoke and coughing. “Nobody knows him at the clubs. Not Paradiso or the Melkweg or even the Hard Rock Café.”
    “He’s had some pretty rough times,” Belew said, “or at least he did before he dropped out of sight for a year or two.
    Maybe he’s just into being a homebody these days.”
    Saxon laughed. “No way. These old hippies were definitely herd beasts. We got it all down to a science, Belew.
    We got profiles of every major kind of dealer and user in existence in our computers, plus we got a whole database on Meadows all by his lonesome. Printout looks like the Manhattan phone book. No. I tell you, Amsterdam is the last great preserve of old hippie burnouts on Earth, and Mark Meadows has got to be out rubbing elbows with them. We just haven’t worked out where.”
    “I’m glad you set me straight on that, Agent Saxon.” Belew grinned boyishly and smoothed back the waxed wings of his own impressive mustache. “Well, it’s a good thing our Dr. Meadows is on the distinctive side in appearance. Maybe third time really is the charm.”
    He signaled for the waiter to come over. “I’ll take some of your best Lebanese — the real stuff, not what you palm off on the tourists. And please, spare me the lecture about operating a motor vehicle.”
     
    When he came back to himself, Mark drew a deep breath and shuddered. His heart still thudded with terror, and it was more than just a carryover from having been the manic-depressive Cosmic Traveler. They had tracked him to his flat. It had just taken them a little extra time.
    For some reason his memories of what the Traveler did during his hour of drug-induced life weren’t as clear as those he brought back from some of his other personas. It was just as well; he didn’t especially like the Traveler, and didn’t trust him at all. Traveler was selfish and totally unscrupulous and wouldn’t hesitate to abuse his ace powers if the opportunity arose. The fact that he possessed no offensive abilities whatsoever restricted his scope somewhat, but he was resourceful.
    Bully and lecher though he was, however, Cosmic Traveler was a coward. A complete coward; it was the one reliable thing about him. He was endlessly ugly when he perceived himself as holding the whip hand, but a whiff of threat and he was gone with the wind.
    By the smell of the