We were on the highway west. The night sky and my thoughts were dark. Long black Authority vehicles blocked a section of the highway. Their bullet-shapes flickered in scarlet light. A circle of figures gathered near the edge of the double eastbound lane. "Elmo, stay here, okay?" I climbed out of the bullet-riddled passenger door. It rattled with shrapnel when I slammed it. Elmo was glued to the steering wheel. He simply nodded, then drank from the Canadian Club. I had brought it for him. His boss didn't need it. I was already feeling pretty light in the loafers. Elmo seemed to sense the Landfillers many feet below. I left him and crawled over the cement median wall. Authority Enforcers had cordoned off a large section of the far lane of the eastbound. They grew to elephant size in the strange light. I swaggered up to them as best I could in clown makeup. The Enforcers didn't stop me. I had the urge to make a snarky remark about whether the food at the zoo was as bad as everybody said it was, but their grim features-galvanized in the protective masks-snapped my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I walked past them to a circle of trench coats.
Mr. Adrian was looking a bit unraveled-if it was him. The body had dropped a lot of fluid on the road. Every liter of its blood smeared the asphalt. I could feel it glue my boots in place. I found I could make squishy, sticky noises if I moved my heels rapidly up and down.
Mr. Adrian with the blue eyes was now a ribbon of wet gray flesh. He was stretched out in a thirty-foot smear. He had been cut up with something sharp, then stretched out like a streamer at a parade. The worst part of it was that what remained was moving. Mr. Adrian had been out here for a while because Blacktime was over. Strange, snakelike undulations rippled through the grisly mess as the corpse made its first attempts at afterlife. Only the whiskey saved me from realizing the full horror of Mr. Adrian's position. I saw one of his eyes-it blinked and I felt bile rise at the back of my throat. There was no sign of the other, or the nose that had sat for so many years between them. I had no reason to wish anything good for the man, but only a monster would do this. At least they could have burned him up, or something-committed him to the only grave that would hold a person these days. This was something different. This type of cruelty transcended the inhumane.
One of the investigators in his long black coat turned quickly toward me. It was Cane. His glance was as sharp as his omnipresent toothpick.
"Not a pretty sight. Jesus, Wildclown. I'd swear you look pale. How goes your spook baby case?"
"This is related," I said. I was surprised to see a strange expression convulse his features.
"Related is it?" He laughed without humor. His eyes flashed at his fellow Inspectors with angry timidity. "This is an Authority restricted investigation. You're not supposed to be this close." He walked me away from the corpse, snarling. "You didn't like Mr. Adrian, did you?"
I caught his drift. "I don't dislike anyone that much. Come on, what did you call me out here for? Not for some lame attempt to implicate me. What do you have?" I felt cocky. I was sure that Cane had some strange stake in all these occurrences.
"I didn't call you, asshole." He stared hard.
I winked. Cane looked angry.
"We got an anonymous call about three hours ago. Said we'd find Richard Adrian wandering the highway. It…" He cocked a thumb over his shoulder at 'it.' Cane continued. "It is off the highway enough that your average motorist wouldn't recognize what it is. We don't know how long he's been here. Autops boys are looking into it. They're working on a positive genetic match from blood and hair samples. Poor fucker's out of Blacktime! We got a wallet, but that's shit." He paused and winced evilly. "What do you know about Van Reydner?" He leveled and fired his gaze at me.
"Same thing you know. She's gone. Maybe she took Adrian out. Who knows? She had a streak of the black widow in her. But that case is closed. I've been paid. It's over. You find her. Maybe she's gone somewhere to raise a family."
An odd look grabbed Cane's features. His face paled where it huddled beneath his hat like a humpbacked toad. His eyes flashed to either side of me. "You've stepped too far. Wildclown, you just did, right there." He jerked his thumb like a dagger. "Beat it. Now!" His thick lips grinned around the brass toothpick.
I stood my ground for a minute, staring at Cane. I thrust Tommy's jaw at him. "I've got a funny feeling about you." I didn't point a finger at him; I knew he'd break it.
Cane only smiled a smile that has been worn by every abuser of authority since the Beginning. He snarled. "Are you one of these shit heads who enjoys life for the moment, paying no attention to the future?"
"I guess you could say I was one of those shit heads. I grab life by the balls and squeeze." I showed him arrogant teeth. I was trying to understand his sudden vehemence. Had he wanted to talk? Or did he want to show me something? Or look for a reaction? Regardless, I would never go on another date with Inspector Cane.
"Enjoy it while it lasts!" he snapped, and then turned away.
I suddenly felt a presence behind me-then swung my head to look at an Enforcer's thick chest plate. "Small world isn't it." I pushed against him. His gun belt removed a yard of skin from my back. "We just had a tiff. I'm a little upset." I felt I had already pushed my luck far enough for one evening, so I beat a wise retreat to the Chrysler.
The door cast a Swiss cheese shadow on the damp asphalt as I climbed in. Before I uttered a word to Elmo, a woman's face appeared at the window. Her glasses were thick and heavy, held up by a pointed nose that looked too thin for the job. Her hair was straight, and plain-cut in a very functional and not wholly unattractive bang that swooped down as it circumnavigated her skull. The occasional white hair crawled through it like spider web. She had a real librarian look to her.
"Mr. Wildclown, right?" She smiled with white teeth.
"How'd you guess?" My face went slack with feigned disbelief.
"I asked around. Seems you know a Malcolm Aird down at the paper. He told me a bit about you." Her eyes slid through my face paint. There was something in her features. She didn't just look-an expression of expectation appeared and was gone. Frowning, she studied my face. She half-smiled, then frowned again.
"Oh yes, Malcolm. How is he?" As she answered I tried to picture his mug-came up empty.
"He wasn't kidding, that's for sure," she muttered, fumbling for a cigarette before glancing toward the ring of Authority. She whispered. "Can we grab a cup of coffee somewhere? I'd like to ask you a few questions. I thought it over, our last conversation; I think you played me for a fool. I'm Mary Redding."
"If you wouldn't mind a walk down a two-way street, I'd be glad. My office?" I tried to be nonchalant.
She agreed to follow us. Elmo drove west until we could get onto a turnpike east. We passed the scene again, slowing as the flares illuminated our tortured fenders. For a moment I glimpsed technicians sliding Adrian's corpse onto a long strip of vinyl sheeting. Probably off to an Internment Facility. Suddenly a bomb went off. It was Ms. Redding. She started after us in an ancient Volkswagen Beetle with asthma. As we gunned away, I'm sure I felt Cane's eyes boring into us.
"Well, Elmo," I said, we'd left the flares behind. "Try not to lose Ms. Redding, if you can, and concentrate on keeping four wheels on the ground. It would be an exceptionally bad time to total the car."
I watched concrete abutments pass quickly through our headlights.