Wild Cards: Death Draws Five by George R.R. Martin, John J. Miller Page B

entirely trust him with all our plans.” He paused briefly and his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Not sound, theologically speaking. But we use what tools we must. You’ll meet him in Las Vegas—”
    “Vegas?” The Angel was so horrified with the thought of traveling to the American Gomorrah that she interrupted The Hand.
    “That’s where the boy is. Actually, it’s a good thing he’s not in New York as the place seems to be crawling with Allumbrados right now. Take the first flight you can get. When you arrive at the Vegas airport check the Pan American customer service counter. I’ll fax you Ray’s photo so you can recognize him. Meet him in the Mirage lobby. That’s where the boy’s staying with his mother and bodyguard.”
    “But—”
    “No time for buts, honey. I know you can do this. We have to gather the boy to the safety of our bosom in the Peaceable Kingdom. I’ll see you soon.” He rang off before the Angel could further protest her exile to Las Vegas, but his final words of praise warmed her all through her flight across the continent.
    The promised photo was in fact waiting for her when she’d arrived at the Vegas airport, along with the additional information that in a bit of fortuitous timing, Ray’s flight had arrived only a few minutes before her own. He was probably on his way to the Mirage, if he hadn’t reached it already.
    Upon reflection, though, the Angel realized that maybe the timing wasn’t so fortuitous. She’d hoped to check into the hotel and maybe catch a few hours sleep. She definitely had to find something to eat. Her body burned calories at a prodigious rate. It seemed that she was always hungry. She ate and ate but never felt really satisfied. She worried about the sin of gluttony, but could she be considered a glutton if she never gained an ounce of weight?
    It wasn’t really gluttony, the Angel thought, if you needed every mouthful you swallowed.
    On her way to the pick-up spot for the hotel’s courtesy van, she stopped at an airport snack bar, looked over the menu board, and winced at the prices. They were outrageous. She had enough cash for a large soda and a couple of chocolate bars. Cadbury, the big ones with nuts and raisins. They were really quite nutritious.
    She tried to eat slowly, but her hunger drove her to gulp down the chocolate bars quickly. Even so, a large soda without ice and three Cadbury bars failed to sate her appetite, but there was nothing to do about it but hustle off to the Mirage. Time was flying. She had to meet this Billy Ray. They had to make plans. She hoped he’d brought some money with him. Despite her careful shepherding of the funds The Hand had given at the start of her mission, she was almost stone broke.
    Buzzing along on caffeine and sugar and lack of sleep, the Angel strode through the airport concourse, aware of every staring male eye, of every impure thought that must be hiding behind their bland but oh-so obvious expressions. She retrieved her one piece of luggage, a battered old duffel bag, from the revolving carousel, and went out into the blazing Vegas afternoon where she waited impatiently for the shuttle to come along on its appointed rounds and take her and about twenty other sweating tourists to the Mirage.
    Hunger still gnawed at her. To take her mind off her grumbling stomach, she studied the photo that The Hand had faxed to her. This Billy Ray didn’t look like anything special. He wasn’t very big. Didn’t appear to be particularly muscular. Didn’t even look too bright, actually. Still, there had to be something special about him if he worked for The Hand. The Hand clearly had confidence in his ability, if not his ultimate loyalty.
    The thought that he had so much confidence in her warmed her heart. The Hand was a handsome man. Even more importantly, he was a man of and for God. She had given him her complete trust when she’d joined his group. The Angel knew that her mother wouldn’t have