Skip to main content

Chapter XIX

First there were only impressions: the delighted and meaningless chatter of people, the cherry wood panels of the hall, the portraits of old stuffy men. Then, looking down through and beyond Spaceman’s eyes, D and Marcus saw Gunther Thulewaite waiting patiently for the answer to his question. His face was hard and unpleasant even with a superficial smile. This was the face of someone getting ready to put down a rabid dog or squash a cockroach.

The charm D was using to observe Spaceman was dim and obscuring. The gist was clear but details remained murky. The emotions of passing guests became intertwined with the smells of food and drink. The impressions of menace from Thulewaite’s guards had somehow the same flavor as the stuffed canapĂ© that Spaceman was chewing on contentedly.

In a similar way, D’s observations came tinged with Marcus’ own alarm.

“Oh, there was no escape,” said Spaceman/Rasheed, relaxed and lucid. “I imagine there was some instant where Rasheed believed he would attempt to crawl out of the room, but ultimately, the room is where we found him, quite dead. It’s hoped he succumbed to the fumes before the flames.”

Gunther’s lips revealed tobacco-stained teeth and he nodded. “You are telling me things I already know. That’s merely one less thing I’ll have to whip out of you. You still haven’t told me who you really are.”

Still untroubled, Spaceman raised his hand. “Oh, I am Rasheed Suliman. I am the man you invited to your Ranch. Allow me to explain. I am the seventh generation of Rasheed Sulimans. You see in my family, there has always been a Rasheed Suliman, the second son of a second son, raised from birth to appreciate the more refined pleasures of life and to guarantee their ready availability to men of taste. From the moment I was born I have studied Rasheed Suliman, waiting for the moment my family would need me. I know his long history, his habits and his many, many deaths. When you killed your Suliman, I shaved my beard and gave up my childish clothes. I am now Suliman. I will be Suliman until I die and am reborn. I don’t know about you, but I feel a certain reassurance in that.”

Thulewaite laughed. “I’m not sure if I believe you, Rasheed, but I do have to say I like you better than the last man with your name.”

“Excellent,” Spaceman bowed. “Then perhaps you will be so kind as to allow me to do what you brought me here to do.”

“I’ll do better than that, Mr. Suliman,” said Thulewaite. “How would you like to meet some Senators?”

The Zanzibar room retreated and both Marcus and D returned to the limousine. LeHaze lifted her eyebrows.

“He’s in,” she said.

“Can you communicate with him?” Melissa asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” said D, “The mystical byways function on the basis of correspondence, or the proximity of certain symbolic catalysts. Without a mutual associations, there can be no common basis for—“

Shield’s eyebrows came together in consternation. “I know you’re speaking English because I recognize some of the words…”

“Sorry,” she said. “Basically we saw what he’s doing because I have his cigarette. In order for us to talk, he must have something that belonged to me.”

“Hmm. Too bad, then. But we’ll sort that out at some point tonight. The important thing right now is to keep an eye on Spaceman until we get there, can you do that?

D nodded, “I just wonder who’ll be watching us once we’re inside.”

Link to Next Chapter

Link to First Chapter


Popular posts from this blog

Chapter I

When the light came back on, the room was empty save for a corpse and two baffled agents of Section Starfire, the premier Anarchist Spy Agency employed by the United States government.

Two trained pairs of eyes quickly scanned the room and found it devoid of anything worth mentioning besides an old battle-scarred table along one wall and a book shelf against the other and, of course, the body of the man Spaceman had just shot. For his part, Marcus Delacroix, Agent Shield, stood across the room from him, blinking in the sudden light, unable to focus. On the table by his right hand was a squat metal object about the same color and shape as a wheel of cheddar cheese. Instantly recognizing this object, Spaceman allowed himself a rare moment of panic.

Pushing past Marcus, Space dashed to the door and tried the handle. Inevitably, it was locked.

“Do you know what this is?” said Marcus, slowly regaining his faculties.

“Yes,” said Spaceman as he darted to the b…

Chapter LIX

“Do not worry,” said Necropolis. He was sitting at one of the pews, his legs kicked up on the headrest in front of him. There was a hymn book flopped over one knee and Nikolas was smiling. “What we need to do is not complicated.”

“Are we talking about the ten-hour long ceremony with an entire freight car of exotic compounds and rare animal parts, and enough priests for a baseball game? That ceremony? The Gemini program seems somewhat less complicated.”

“Reasonably complicated, is how I’d describe it.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“The ceremony is window-dressing. I need the priests and their descendants to keep this place sacred and unmolested, and they need something to believe in. We both get something.

“No, Spaceman, what I was referring to was your part in all of this. All you have to do is survive. After that your life will become as complicated or as simple as your will dictates.”

“I don’t buy that either.”

It was late in the day, and the change had begun for Necropolis. His face…

Chapter LXI

“Frankie, listen to me. You have to pull the trigger.”

Frankie was silent. The rifle rested at his shoulder, just like he had practiced. He had D sighted, the slender cross-hairs pointing to spot just over her right eye. There was a slight Eastern wind which would pull the rifle to the left. He made his calibrations and rested his finger on the trigger. Perhaps a dozen men who could make this shot. He was one of them.

“This is the way it has to be, Frankie,” Marcus said. Was that nerves in his voice, or genuine terror. “If she doesn’t die, then The Master will just go on. We get this one chance and that’s it.”

In the scope, D was going through a strange contortion. Her body shuddered and she threw her head backwards as she rose first to her feet and then straight up into the air, suspended a full foot above the ground. When he had her reacquired, she was looking right at him. This was impossible, but it was plainly and obviously true. The girl knew where they were.

“Why do we need to kill…