Chapter Five
Sam had found out from Mandy's innocuous chatter that he owned a small bar. After a quick stop at the brownstone, he'd found out where the bar was and gotten the keys to open it. If Arthur wasn't going to take his warning seriously, he'd have to wait for Al to get him the information he needed, and he might as well keep busy in the meantime.
The bar was locked when he got there. He opened the door and was about to head for the back when he noticed another man in the room. He was tall with bleach blond hair, wearing sunglasses, even though he was inside and outside it was heavily overcast. The man wore a dark, nondescript sweater and designer jeans. He looked vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn't put his finger on why.
"We're closed," Sam said, merely for something to say.
"I know," the man replied with a smirk. He took off his glasses, revealing remarkable blue eyes. "But that's never really stopped us before, has it?"
*So I know him,* Sam thought, walking around to the other side of the bar. "Drink?"
"Scotch," the man said shortly. "Curt, I thought we had a deal."
"A deal?" Sam asked, pouring the scotch.
"Yes, a deal. I thought I could trust you." Sam had no idea how to answer, but apparently he didn't have to, because the man was going on. "Obviously I can't."
Before Sam could answer, he heard the chamber opening and saw Al emerge. "Why do you say that?"
"I know you've talked to the journalist," the man said, rolling his glaringly blue eyes.
Al started talking as soon as he finished. "Say you're old friends."
Sam dutifully repeated Al's words. The man glared at him. "No, he's not. I know all your friends, Curt."
"Things change," Sam replied.
"Yes, things change. But the public doesn't see that! It never has! I have an image to protect, Curt! You know how important that is to me."
Sam was familiar enough with Curt by now to know exactly what he'd say without Al's coaching. "I don't give a damn about your image," he snapped.
"That journalist was at my concert! You should have heard what he said!" It clicked in Sam's mind when he said concert. The blond man was Tommy Stone. Sam had no idea how to reply. Obviously Curt had a long history with Tommy Stone. Tommy sighed and downed his scotch. "You're forcing me to do something I don't want, Curt. I helped you once, and *this* is how you repay me? With betrayal?"
"Get mad," Al said quickly.
Sam listened and slammed his own glass onto the bar. "Get out!" he bellowed. "I don't have to put up with your crap anymore!"
Tommy put his sunglasses back on. He didn't give any farewell, just left the bar quietly. As soon as the door shut, Sam turned to Al. "What was that about? Why was Tommy Stone here?"
Al sighed. "Tommy Stone, huh? Sam, that was Brian Slade."
"Brian Slade? Curt's ex-lover?"
"Yeah, That's what Arthur found out. That's what Tommy is trying to hide."
"Why?"
"Tommy Stone is the poster boy for President Reynolds' conservative revolution. He sways the public, and in return has unlimited support and access. If it was found out he was a radical bisexual… Well, no doubt he'd lose some fans and have to drop out of the spotlight- again."
"Doesn't sound like a reason to kill."
"Murder has been committed for less." Al consulted his hand-held computer. "But according to this, we're running out of time."
"We have two and a half days," Sam objected.
"Not anymore. Something you've done in the past twelve hours has accelerated matters. Arthur Stuart is now recorded as dying in ten hours and thirty six minutes.
Sam had found out from Mandy's innocuous chatter that he owned a small bar. After a quick stop at the brownstone, he'd found out where the bar was and gotten the keys to open it. If Arthur wasn't going to take his warning seriously, he'd have to wait for Al to get him the information he needed, and he might as well keep busy in the meantime.
The bar was locked when he got there. He opened the door and was about to head for the back when he noticed another man in the room. He was tall with bleach blond hair, wearing sunglasses, even though he was inside and outside it was heavily overcast. The man wore a dark, nondescript sweater and designer jeans. He looked vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn't put his finger on why.
"We're closed," Sam said, merely for something to say.
"I know," the man replied with a smirk. He took off his glasses, revealing remarkable blue eyes. "But that's never really stopped us before, has it?"
*So I know him,* Sam thought, walking around to the other side of the bar. "Drink?"
"Scotch," the man said shortly. "Curt, I thought we had a deal."
"A deal?" Sam asked, pouring the scotch.
"Yes, a deal. I thought I could trust you." Sam had no idea how to answer, but apparently he didn't have to, because the man was going on. "Obviously I can't."
Before Sam could answer, he heard the chamber opening and saw Al emerge. "Why do you say that?"
"I know you've talked to the journalist," the man said, rolling his glaringly blue eyes.
Al started talking as soon as he finished. "Say you're old friends."
Sam dutifully repeated Al's words. The man glared at him. "No, he's not. I know all your friends, Curt."
"Things change," Sam replied.
"Yes, things change. But the public doesn't see that! It never has! I have an image to protect, Curt! You know how important that is to me."
Sam was familiar enough with Curt by now to know exactly what he'd say without Al's coaching. "I don't give a damn about your image," he snapped.
"That journalist was at my concert! You should have heard what he said!" It clicked in Sam's mind when he said concert. The blond man was Tommy Stone. Sam had no idea how to reply. Obviously Curt had a long history with Tommy Stone. Tommy sighed and downed his scotch. "You're forcing me to do something I don't want, Curt. I helped you once, and *this* is how you repay me? With betrayal?"
"Get mad," Al said quickly.
Sam listened and slammed his own glass onto the bar. "Get out!" he bellowed. "I don't have to put up with your crap anymore!"
Tommy put his sunglasses back on. He didn't give any farewell, just left the bar quietly. As soon as the door shut, Sam turned to Al. "What was that about? Why was Tommy Stone here?"
Al sighed. "Tommy Stone, huh? Sam, that was Brian Slade."
"Brian Slade? Curt's ex-lover?"
"Yeah, That's what Arthur found out. That's what Tommy is trying to hide."
"Why?"
"Tommy Stone is the poster boy for President Reynolds' conservative revolution. He sways the public, and in return has unlimited support and access. If it was found out he was a radical bisexual… Well, no doubt he'd lose some fans and have to drop out of the spotlight- again."
"Doesn't sound like a reason to kill."
"Murder has been committed for less." Al consulted his hand-held computer. "But according to this, we're running out of time."
"We have two and a half days," Sam objected.
"Not anymore. Something you've done in the past twelve hours has accelerated matters. Arthur Stuart is now recorded as dying in ten hours and thirty six minutes.