An investigator teams up with an unexpected ally to expose a sinister organization in the gripping second book of a classic trilogy set in the Wild Cards universe created by the #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Game of Thrones . Now featuring a stunning new cover! An alien virus ravages the world, with effects as random as a hand of cards. Those infected either draw the black queen and die, draw an ace and receive superpowers, or draw the joker and are bizarrely mutated. The uninfected are known as nats. Nat investigator Hannah Davis has discovered the shadowy group of powerful figures that has orchestrated countless attacks on jokers since the wild card virus was first discovered. The Card Sharks have one goal: to purge the world of everyone who holds the virus. With the help of Gregg Hartmann—once a puppeteering ace politician but now a joker himself—Hannah and her ragtag crew of joker activists must work to expose the leaders of the conspiracy before their plans can come to fruition. But the Card Sharks have a few tricks up their sleeve—and if Hannah and Gregg don’t act quickly, every wild carder in the world could pay the price. Book Two of the Card Shark Triad CARD SHARKS • MARKED CARDS • SHOWDOWN George R. R. Martin is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of many novels, including those of the acclaimed series A Song of Ice and Fire— A Game of Thrones , A Clash of Kings , A Storm of Swords , A Feast for Crows, and A Dance with Dragons —as well as related works such as Fire & Blood , A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms , The World of Ice & Fire, and Rise of the Dragon (the last two with Elio M. García, Jr., and Linda Antonsson). Other novels and collections include Tuf Voyaging , Fevre Dream , The Armageddon Rag , Dying of the Light , Windhaven (with Lisa Tuttle), and Dreamsongs Volumes I and II . As a writer-producer, he has worked on The Twilight Zone , Beauty and the Beast , and various feature films and pilots that were never made. He lives with his lovely wife, Parris, in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The Color of His Skin Stephen Leigh 1 “Ms. Davis, I promise you that I take the concerns of the jokers very seriously. I will do whatever needs to be done.” Gregg Hartmann ushered the attractive and intense blond woman from his offices, sliding her out the door with a perfect blend of smile and frown. Yes, I understand the importance of what you’ve just shown me, his expression said. You’ve made the right decision. Really, you have . . . ​ “Hold my calls, Jo Ann,” he said to his secretary after the outer door closed. A soft, strangely inflected “Gotcha, boss” followed him as he closed the mahogany doors to his private office. The way she said it made him look back, but Jo Ann only smiled at him. Jo Ann was a minor joker, a woman whose only visible affliction was that her skin was as green and warty as a fairy-tale witch’s—and her tongue as sharp. Gregg had always had joker secretaries; it was expected of him. Gregg sank into the leather caress of his chair and contemplated the cardboard box of transcripts, tapes, and photos Hannah Davis had given him. His right hand throbbed achingly, but when he looked down there was only the dead plastic mockery of the prosthetic resting on the chair’s arm—​a dead weight whose ironic, crude symbolism didn’t escape him. The inner voice that had begun to nag him more and more over the last several months spoke again. You took Tachyon’s hand with Mackie Messer, and Herne’s hounds returned you a just revenge. Don’t complain when you bear only a tithe of the pain you’ve caused over the years, Greggie. An eye for an eye . . . ​ Shut up, he told the voice. Left-handed, he touched the speed dial on his phone system and punched in two numbers. He listened to the phone ringing and picked up the receiver as the line clicked open. “Pan?” he said. “Gregg Hartmann.” “Gregg, so good to hear from you.” The voice on the other end sounded entirely normal. Gregg heard nothing in the soft accents he hadn’t heard before, and Gregg knew Pan Rudo, or at least he once had. He’d known him very well indeed. “In fact, I’ve just learned that the new WHO funding sailed through the Senate untouched, thanks largely to the lobbying you’ve done on our behalf. Thank you.” “You’re entirely welcome, and Jo Ann should have my invoice to you tomorrow, but that’s not what I’m calling about. Pan . . . ​well, I need to talk to you. In person. I’m also calling Brandon van Renssaeler . . .” “She is truly a most persistent woman,” Pan said. The director of the World Health Organization placed the sheaf of transcripts back in the box on Gregg’s desk and sat back in his chair, as elegant and composed as usual. Rudo shook his graying head slowly and let out a deep sigh, glancing at Brandon van Renssaeler, who sat silently next to him with his gaze directed on the shuttered windows behind Gregg, his jaw muscles bunched under his grim frown. Brandon had flus