The Double Agent

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Billy clutched at his heart. Blood flowed from between his fingers. He turned slowly. I turned faster, but I had to make an allowance for the fact that he had just been shot, and he was very overweight.

Jessica’s gun was smoking. ‘Sorry, Billy,’ she said. ‘But you were just too damn fat.’

Billy fell to his knees with a crash that shook the room. I grabbed his gun from out of his hands and shot him five more times in the back for good measure.

‘Sam!’ Sarah said. ‘Are you sure that was necessary?’

‘Well, baby,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you what it wasn’t- unnecessary, that’s what.’ I grabbed the blueprints from out of Billy’s dead hand and placed them on the desk.

‘Sarah,’ I said, ‘I’d love a cup of coffee. Would you do me a favour and make me one? Atta girl.’

Sarah shot me a look as she walked out of the office. I’d have to do some pretty fast explaining later.

Jessica walked slowly towards me. Her hips moved as if they were greased, but with some kind of very attractive grease. ‘So, baby,’ she said. ‘It’s just you and me now. If we sell those plans, we can go anywhere, do anything. What do you say?’

I sighed. ‘Baby,’ I said, ‘you’re too much. You’re some kind of sex-powered super fox, and it drives me crazy. You’re like a woman version of Ebola- you set my blood on fire.’

She brushed her long blonde hair back from her face. ‘You really know how to talk to a girl, Sam,’ she said. She moved closer. I could feel her breath on my cheek.

And then I felt the barrel of her gun poking into my stomach. And maybe it was weird, but I was suddenly very, very turned on.

‘Just give me the plans, Sam,’ she said softly. ‘I want you to come with me. But I’ll kill you right here if you don’t give me those plans.’

‘Well, forgive me for being a little skeptical, baby,’ I said. ‘But you could have just asked without the gun.’

I was in trouble, all right. The woman, or the plans? Hell, why not both? I deserved a little reward, and if that involved selling the plans that men had died to protect, and shacking up with the wife of one of those dead men, well, what was wrong with that? Nothing- and everything.

I wished my old teacher, Nick Dalziel, was around to advise me right then. Of course, Jessica would probably make a play for him. Women couldn’t resist Nick, and I for one didn’t blame them. He had been all man.

‘Sam!’ Jessica said, more sharply. ‘You’ve been staring off into space for the last five minutes. Now are you going to come with me or not?’

‘Baby,’ I said, staring into her eyes, ‘you’re one spicy Eskimo Pie. But those plans belong in a museum. Or framed on my wall, where I can tell people that I drew them up, because I’m so smart. I’m afraid they’re not for sale.’

Jessica bit her lower lip and thumbed back the hammer on the gun. ‘God damn it, Sam,’ she said.

Jessica pushed the gun harder into my stomach. ‘Are you going to give me the blueprints, Sam?’ she asked, staring deep into my eyes. I slowly shook my head.
‘Does a Tibetan Dancing Cat grant wishes if it doesn’t feel like it?’ I asked. She looked blank.

‘No,’ I said. ‘No it doesn’t. And baby, this Dancing Cat doesn’t want to hand over those blueprints.’

Jessica’s face hardened. ‘All right then,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to have to do this, but you leave me absolutely no choice.’

I hurriedly grabbed the blueprints and gave them to her. ‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘You were actually going to do it. I just assumed that we’d go back and forth for a little while and then have sex on the desk. Here, take the stupid blueprints.’

Jessica smiled, and looked more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. She slipped the gun back into her pocket, and kissed me deeply, like a woman kissing a man who just gave her some very valuable blueprints. She broke away and looked me deep in the eye. Her eyes were as blue as some kind of lake that’s hidden under a mountain, and is very blue. ‘I knew you’d come through in the end, Sam,’ she said. There was a click from behind her. Jessica turned, and saw Sarah holding a pistol on her. Jessica went for the gun in her pocket, but I was faster and I grabbed it.

‘Looks like that’s it for you, Jessica,’ I said. ‘You should have killed me when you had the chance.’ Jessica swallowed.

‘Are you going to kill me?’ she asked. I shook my head.

‘No,’ I said, ‘but you’ve crossed the line, and a detective can’t love a woman who’s crossed the line. That’s what it says on that plaque on the wall up there.’ I pointed. Sure enough, the plaque on the wall read ‘A Detective Can’t Love A Woman Who’s Crossed The Line.’ Jessica sighed.

‘But I love you,’ she said, ‘doesn’t that count for anything? Doesn’t that mean anything?’

‘Sure it means something, baby,’ I said. ‘It means that in years to come, if you’re lonely at night, and you’re in my neighbourhood, you can call me, and we’ll get funky for hours on end, and then in the morning, you can make me breakfast. But that’s all. Now get out of here.’

She turned, and left. It was probably a good thing that she didn’t turn and look over her shoulder, because I was making faces at her behind her back.

Sarah walked up to me and laid her gun on the desk. ‘So that’s it, then, Sam?’ she asked me. ‘Case closed?’ I nodded and put my hands around her waist, and pulled her close.

‘Apart from Billy’s carcass on the floor over there,’ I said. ‘Which you should probably clean up in a little while, yes, that’s it. I didn’t get paid, but I can now build my own dancing robot, and that’s payment enough.’

Sarah put her hands around the back of my neck. ‘So what are you going to do with the rest of the day?’ she asked, leaning in closer and closer until I could feel her breath on my cheeks.

‘Baby,’ I said. ‘I’m going to get a start on my next case- the mystery of what you’re wearing under that dress.’

Mr. Coal didn’t have a gun, it seemed- he just threw scorpions at people. Which is really only effective if your opponent doesn’t have a gun too. He was the first casualty, which I didn’t really mind. Mr. Glaudio followed him soon after. I sprinted across the warehouse floor and grabbed Jessica’s hand. ‘Come on, baby,’ I said. ‘It’s time for me to get your pulse racing again.’

We hid behind a couple of barrels. I had a small derringer concealed in one of my socks and I pulled it out.

‘Oh, Sam,’ Jessica said. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’

‘Baby, I just don’t know,’ I said. ‘But probably, because you are very good looking, and you’re a dynamo in the sack.’

Jimmy and Billy Moqratombie were concealed behind a forklift. Two of the Limey’s men lay on the ground, proof of Jimmy Moqratombie’s skill with a pistol. But as I watched, Arthur the Limey sent two more of his men around in a flanking attack, and when Jimmy fired on them, the Limey shot him right through the heart.

The Limey roared in triumph, and Billy shot him five times. The Limey’s bowler hat flew off his head, rolled on the ground, and came to a stop. I took careful aim and fired at Billy, and he fell backwards.

‘Come on,’ I said to Jessica. ‘Let’s get out of here before any more of the Limey’s men show up.’

We made our way out to the street and flagged down a taxi. Jessica looked pale, and tired, but still very sexually attractive. I sat back into my seat with a sigh. Jesus. What a case. Could there be a more potent cocktail of sex, violence, and robots? I hoped so, because by now the bar had been raised pretty high. I also needed to find a new partner.

We got back to the office. We walked in to find Sarah behind the desk. She gave a low whistle. ‘Wow, what happened to you?’ she said. ‘You look as if you’ve been involved in some bizarre gangland shootout over blueprints of unquestionable value!’

‘Exactly,’ said a voice from behind us. I turned.

And there was Billy, pale, bleeding from his shoulder, and holding two pistols.

Oh, Jesus. So it was going to one of THOSE cases. I made a mental note to plug everyone three times from that moment on. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s when you think you’re about to get down with a hot blonde, and a double-crossing partner that you thought was dead bursts in the door. If I had a dollar for every time that had happened, I’d be a rich man.

‘OK,’ Billy said. ‘Sam. Sarah. Up against the wall.’

Jessica reached into my jacket.

‘Baby,’ I said, ‘while I love getting freaky as much as any man, this is the hardly the time or the place….oh.’ It turned out that all she was after was my revolver. She stepped back to stand next to Billy.

‘Nice work, baby,’ Billy said. Jessica winked at him. God damn it. She was still so very good looking.

‘Now,’ Billy said. ‘Into your office, Sam. I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that you’ve got the blueprints in there.’ I opened my mouth to speak because I had a killer joke about Billy and doughnuts but there was a look in his eye that made me think better of it.

‘Sam,’ Sarah asked as we walked into my office, ‘what the hell’s going on? Why do Billy and Mrs. Zachary have guns?’

I looked at her. ‘They have guns so they can shoot bullets at us if we put a foot wrong, dollface,’ I said. ‘That’s why they have guns. That’s why.’

Jessica herded Sarah over to the far side of the room. I prayed that they would kiss and make up, but it didn’t look as if that was going to happen. Billy kept his distance from me, his pistol aimed right at my face- my magnificent face. It was just one of the many bodily parts I didn’t want hit by a bullet.

‘OK,’ Billy said. ‘Open the lock box. And don’t go through any of that rigmarole with the key in the safe inside the safe, or anything stupid like that. Just use your spare key.’

Damn it. He knew all of my tricks.

I couldn’t believe that this was how I was going to go out. Gunned down by a fat man. Why couldn’t I be killed by someone athletic? Jesus. It just wasn’t fair. But, that’s life- a sandwich that you take a big bite out of only to discover that the filling isn’t chicken, like you thought it was. It’s chicken-flavoured yogurt- and that, my friend, is a disgusting concept.

I fished my keys out of my pocket, and slowly opened up the floor hatch that concealed the lockbox. Billy stepped closer. His eyes were shining, which I put down to either greed, or a trick of the light. I lifted the lockbox out of its hiding place and put it on my desk.

‘You know,’ Billy said conversationally, ‘I’m rather glad that its worked out like this. All of my associates are dead, so I don’t have to worry about killing them. My brother is dead, which is great, because I never really liked him. And now I’m about to kill you, the one man who could stop me, and claim my reward.’

‘I’ll come back from the grave to destroy you!’ I said. Billy laughed.

‘No you won’t,’ he said.

I nodded glumly. ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘I won’t. But I figured it was worth a shot.’

I unlocked the box. The blueprints for the ALEMBS seemed to shine with their own funky light. Could I let the purity of science and breakdancing be used for profit? And for evil?

Yes. Yes I could. If it bought me my life in exchange.

I turned. I held the blueprints up in front of me. ‘If you shoot me, Billy,’ I said, ‘then the bullet will go through the blueprints- and then you’ll have nothing! Nothing! Ha HA!’

Billy aimed at my foot. ‘OK, here you go,’ I said, and handed the blueprints over.

‘At last,’ Billy said. And then he aimed the pistol right between my eyes.

I wasn’t sure if I should close my eyes or not. On the one hand, I could be brave, but actually see the gun fire. On the other hand, if I closed my eyes I’d be in blissful ignorance until I was actually shot, but everyone would be talking about what a coward I was for years to come. Oh hey, I thought. What if I just close one eye? That will work!

There was a gunshot, and the decision was taken out of my hands.

We drove in silence. I tried to make a couple of jokes about how uncomfortable the situation was for everyone involved, but they fell on deaf ears, which was a pity, because I personally thought that they were pretty funny. Especially the one where I said to Jessica that now she wouldn’t have to worry about whether I was going to call her or not.

We got to the Limey’s sauce factory on the East Side and the limo pulled into the big packing garage. I was dragged out of the car by his goons, which was unnecessary, because I was willing to go of my own volition, but dragging people around was what goons did, and I wasn’t about to stand in the way of a man’s trade. They lashed me to a chair. Arthur the Limey took a seat in front of me. Jessica stood in the background, smoking. The Limey’s goons waited, hoping, I am sure, for me to try to make a break for it so they could beat me up a little.

The Limey pulled his silver cigarette case out of his pocket and lit up. He smoked elegantly. ‘Mr. Black, my dear chap,’ he said. ‘We can avoid all this unpleasantness, you know. I don’t want to drown you in sauce. I’d be just as happy to let you go. But we need those blueprints.’

‘Who’s we?’ I asked.

‘We are,’ said a voice from behind me. Two figures stepped around to where I could see them. It was Mr. Coal and Mr. Glaudio. Mr. Coal pulled a scorpion from his pocket, tossed it in the air, and caught it in his mouth. Everyone looked away for a second. Mr. Coal chewed with a crunching sound.

‘Really,’ I said, ‘that’s disgusting. I can’t believe you even enjoy doing that. I just can’t. Please stop it.’

‘Oh, and by the way,’ I said, ‘I don’t have the blueprints.’ Damn it. I really should have said that earlier.

Mr. Glaudio smiled, thinly. Which was surprising, because he really was quite a fat man. ‘Don’t think us fools, Mr. Black,’ he said. ‘Unlike my partner here, Mr. The Limey, I have absolutely no qualms about killing you very slowly if you don’t give us the blueprints.’

‘OK,’ I said, ‘let’s suppose that I do have the blueprints. Why do you guys want them?’

Mr. Glaudio rolled his eyes. ‘Because they’d be worth a fortune!’ he said. ‘Can you imagine what the black market would pay for an invincible break dancing robot? Lots!’

I nodded. ‘So what- you’re the ringleader here, Glaudio? You organised everything?’

Mr. Glaudio snorted. ‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘Frankly, I don’t have the brainpower to put an operation like this together. But as long as you’re here, you may as well meet the real mastermind.’

Glaudio turned to a patch of shadow on the other side of the darkened room. Wait a second, I thought, that wasn’t a patch of shadow at all, but a man concealing himself. The man detached himself from his hiding place and came closer. Closer. Then he stopped for a second, and then he came closer.

Something was familiar about him. I squinted, trying to make it out. Was it my landlord? Was it my high school history teacher? Jesus, was it my father?

No. No, no it was none of them. The only way that the truth could have been more shocking would be if the figure was in fact myself- a clone, perhaps, or myself from the past, or the future. That would have really spun me out.

‘Hello, Sam,’ the figure said. The man came and stood in front of me. ‘Guess you’re surprised to see me here.’

I sighed. ‘I’m more surprised that you don’t have an ice cream in your hand, you fat bastard.’

For in front of me, smirking, was my partner. Billy Moqratombie. As large as life and as fat as ever.

Billy shook his head slowly. ‘Always with the fat jokes, Sam. Every single day. Just for once, couldn’t you treat me with a little respect? A little dignity?’

‘While we sit back and chew the fat, you mean?’ I said, and laughed. Despite the seriousness of my situation, I still thought that was pretty funny.

Billy chuckled. ‘Make jokes while you can, wise guy,’ he said. ‘Because it’s not me who is going to be going into the sauce. Why don’t you just give us the blueprints?’

‘Huh,’ I said. ‘Fat lot of good that would do.’

The Limey snorted and Billy shot him a glance. Billy’s smile was slipping off his features, as if he was an ice-cream statue of himself that someone had left out in the sun.

‘Come on, Sam,’ he said. ‘Give us the blueprints, and we can sort this out nice and easy.’

‘Don’t you mean fat and easy?’ I said, laughing. Then I realised that the last joke hadn’t really been clever at all, and wasn’t that funny. But it sufficed to knock the cap off Billy’s well-contained cocktail of rage, jealousy, and hunger. His face went bright red and he stormed towards me.

‘You think you’re such a great detective!’ he yelled. ‘But you ain’t!’

‘Yes I am,’ I said, as he paused to take a breath.

‘Shut up!’ he yelled back at me. ‘You ain’t! Didn’t you ever realise that every time you told me where you were going, somehow the Limey knew just how to find you? Didn’t you wonder how Mr. Coal knew how to tell the cops that someone matching your description was seen climbing out of Frank Rochester’s window? Didn’t you think about any of those things?’

‘Not really,’ I said. ‘Because I’ve been on to you from the beginning.’ Billy shook his head.

‘Like hell you have,’ he said.

‘Billy, my fat friend,’ I said. ‘You know a lot about blueberry pie, I’ll give you that. But maybe you should leave the detective work to me. Remember the day Jessica walked in to the office? You asked her if she’d like coffee- but you didn’t ask her how she drank it. At that moment, I knew that you had met her before, and that something was up.’

I held up my hands, revealing the fact that for the last ten minutes, I’d been slicing away at the ropes that held me in my chair with a razor blade concealed up my sleeve.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘That’s pretty impressive. Can someone say how impressed they are?’

And I grinned widely.

No-one really seemed that impressed, which I found a little disconcerting. When I told this story later, I’d be sure to describe their reactions differently. But I figured that for right now, getting out was the important thing. From my other sleeve I let a ninja smoke-bomb fall. I’ve been a huge fan of these things ever since seeing Michael Keaton use them in Batman. A cloud of smoke engulfed me and I moved.

I was up out of the chair and moving towards the door like a lemur with some kind of super fast, artificial legs instead of its real legs. But before I’d taken three steps somebody caught me by the wrist and hauled me back. I landed flat on my back on the floor. A man stood over me. He was as thin as a rail, and he had a vicious sneer on his face. In face, I realised, with growing dread, it was the most vicious look I’d ever seen on a man’s face.

‘Sam,’ said Billy, strolling closer, ‘I’d like you to meet my brother- Jimmy Moqratombie. The best killer this side of Seattle.’

Damn it. I hadn’t been counting on a brother. I threw up my hands in surrender. Of course, I never surrender- except then in the bedroom, and then only when I’m outflanked, if you know what I mean.

I walked back to the group. Jimmy Moqratombie kept a tight grip on my arm. ‘So you’re the one that killed Frank Rochester, right?’ I said. Jimmy Moqratombie nodded.

‘Sure am,’ he said. ‘And I’ll kill you too if you don’t give us those blueprints.’ He sat me back down in the chair. Billy smirked. ‘Not so clever now, are you, Sam?’ he said.

‘Jesus, Billy,’ I said. ‘Are you sure you got enough people involved here? You got the Limey and his gang in on this thing. You got Mr. Coal and Mr. Glaudio over there, you got Jessica involved, and now you drag your brother into this whole mess. Why not just contract the Yugoslavian Army and have done with it?’

Billy pulled out his gun. ‘Any more lip from you, wise guy, and I’ll…’

‘Give me a fat lip?’ I said quickly. Billy snarled and raised his pistol.

‘No!’ shouted out Mr. Glaudio. ‘We need him alive!’

Billy lowered his pistol. You’re right, Glaudio,’ he said. ‘And in answer to your question, Sam, I hired the Limey and his men to find the robot itself. I hired Mr. Glaudio and Mr. Coal to keep you under control. And my brother- well, his job is to tie up loose ends. Loose ends like you.’

‘And what about Jessica?’ I asked. Billy snorted.

‘I didn’t hire Jessica,’ he said. ‘I seduced her.’

And then it was my turn to snort.

‘Yeah, sure you did,’ I said. ‘You’re a fat idiot. Now I’d be more than ready to believe that I seduced her. In fact, I did. Over and over again. But you? No way, man.’

I sat back in my chair. The entire ant’s nest was coming to the boil, and it was eat or be eaten. Coincidentally, just as I was thinking that, Mr. Coal ate another scorpion, and everyone flinched.

‘Jesus!’ Billy said. ‘Can you stop doing that?!’

‘Tell you what,’ I said. ‘Arthur the Limey, seeing as how you’re a good fellow, and full of British pluck, if you kill everyone else, I’ll give you the blueprints right now.’

There was silence. And then I threw myself off my chair and everyone went for their guns.

By the time I stumbled through the darkened streets to Jessica Zachary’s house, the sun had come up and was shining down on the city. I wasn’t sure that the city deserved it. I’d watched an innocent man die the night before, and what’s more, I had slept with his wife. And was planning to do so again. There were some things that a man just shouldn’t have to see. Like the fiery death of a break dancing robot. I shuddered at the memory.

I looked at my watch. It was six in the morning. A time for pancakes, and coffee, and maybe a little action on top of the kitchen table. My kind of time. As long as someone else was making the pancakes and the coffee, I could make sure that the action took place.

I knocked on the door. It opened to reveal Jessica Zachary wearing pajamas and a dressing gown, neither of which did much to hide her curves. ‘Sam!’ she said, putting one hand to her chest. ‘You look terrible! Come in, quickly,’ she said, putting her hand to my arm and pulling me inside the house.

She made me coffee, and blueberry pancakes, and so, in return, I made her a big batch of sweet love in the shower. It was almost eight thirty by the time we were dressed again and sitting in her lounge, smoking cigarettes. ‘So, tell me, Sam,’ she said. God, she was good looking. I’d have to get some photos. People were never going to believe me. ‘Sam,’ she went on, ‘have you had any luck finding my husband?’

The only honest option I had was to lie my way out of the mess I was in. It would hurt her to know that her husband was dead, and I really felt like breaking the news over the phone, to avoid being caught up in any awkwardness. ‘Oh, shoot,’ Jessica said. ‘I just remembered, I’ll have to call and cancel work today. I want to spend the day with you.’ She smiled at me suggestively and got up and left the room. I sighed. Jesus. She was getting clingy already. It was a good thing she was so attractive.

I shifted my weight on the couch and I could feel something poking into my rear. I didn’t much care for it, so I reached back behind the cushions and fished the offending object out. It was a man’s black leather wallet. Curious, I flipped it open. I figured that it was Chester’s. But it was monogrammed ‘J. M.’ in golden letters.

Time seemed to slow down. In fact, it kept going at exactly the same pace as it always does, but my perspective was altered because I was in shock. J. M. The same letters on the handkerchief that had been left by the man who killed Frank Rochester. Was it coincidence? Maybe, but frankly, I didn’t give a Dandy Warhol for that possibility. I stood up. Something was going on, and I was going to get to the bottom of it. Like the detective I was.

There was a click from the doorway. Jessica stood there, holding a pistol. A pistol that was aimed at me. Her face and her voice were cold.

‘I’m sorry, Sam,’ she said. ‘If we’d met at some other time, in some other place, it could have worked. But true love wasn’t meant for people like you and me.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Can we at least have sex a few more times before you kill me?’

Her face twisted. ‘I’m not going to kill you,’ she said. ‘Unless you force me to.’

‘Ah, baby,’ I said. ‘I’d never do that to you.’
‘Shut up!’ she said. She looked tense. ‘Sit down. We’re both going to sit down, and wait for company.’

I smoked a cigarette as we waited for Jessica’s mysterious ‘company’ to arrive. Was it to be my last? Had she locked the door? Because, if she had to get up to answer it when the ‘company’ got here, I was going to be out the back door like a cheetah on jet-powered roller skates.

But I had no such luck. After about ten very awkward moments, which were mainly made up of Jessica and I avoiding each other’s gaze (although, I don’t really know why I was feeling awkward. I had done nothing wrong except for sleep with a married woman a bunch of times and not tell her that her husband was dead) I heard the door open.

‘Oh, by the way, Jessica,’ I said, casually, hearing footsteps neared the lounge room, ‘your husband is dead. Shot, I believe. Well, I don’t believe. I know. For, you see, I was there when he died, horribly, on the floor of his unpleasant-looking rented apartment.’

Jessica tensed her grip on her pistol. ‘I don’t care,’ she said, but her voice betrayed her. There was a look in her eyes that said ‘I didn’t expect my husband to be killed by the men I was working with’. It’s a look that every private detective knows- and what’s more, knows how to exploit.

The door to the lounge opened. Just as I’d expected, there he was. Arthur the Limey, the British king of crime.

He was wearing a three piece pinstripe suit and a bowler hat. His shoes were immaculately shined. He had a copy of the Times neatly folded under one arm. He was, as always, clean shaven. If it wasn’t for the goons flanking him, he could be a bank manager off to a hard day’s work in London, or a criminal who had embraced all things English- which, in fact, he was.

‘Good day, sir,’ he said, coming in and standing behind Jessica. ‘Good work, lass,’ he said. ‘You’ve succeeded where all others failed.’

Jessica turned to him. ‘What the hell is he saying, my husband’s dead? That wasn’t part of the plan!’

The Limey shook his head sadly. ‘What is your American saying?’ he asked. ‘You can’t make an omelette without shooting some people while you’re trying to steal their robot and sell it on the black market? Never before have those words been so true.’

Jessica sighed. ‘I guess I knew that it was coming from the start,’ she said.

The Limey patted her gently on the shoulder. ‘It was quick, my dear,’ he said. ‘A quicker death than Mr. Black can hope for, if he doesn’t tell us where the blueprints are. Come along then.’

He waved to his goons. They circled me and gripped me hard by the forearms. I’d left my gun upstairs after taking a shower with Jessica. And also, I wanted to see just what was going on. I let them manhandle me out of the room, out of the house, and into the Limey’s limo. As usual, the goons sat in the front, while the Limey, Jessica, and I, being of more importance than your average run-of-the-mill goon, sat in the back.

The limo started up, and we drove through the morning streets. I knew where we were going.

The Limey’s sauce factory, over on the East Side.

We drove in silence back to the office. I was silent because I was thinking deep thoughts. Billy was silent because he was eating, and I’ve taught him the hard way not to talk while he’s got his mouth full. While there was no wooden ruler around right now, he knows from past experience that should he talk, I’ll just wait until there is a wooden ruler around to unleash my pent-up fury.

Pent-up fury. I was chock full of that. Sure, he’d worn glasses, and I hadn’t really enjoyed his company, and I’d slept with his wife a bunch of times in between the first and second times I’d met him, but Chester Zachary had died on my watch. And that was going to make it very difficult to collect my fee from his wife.

Billy dropped me off in front of the office. He swallowed, hard. I waited patiently. He looked like a big fat trained otter trying to swallow a sandwich at the zoo, and I wasn’t shy about letting my disgust show on my face.

‘Are you sure I can’t drop you off at home, Sam?’ he asked me. I shook my head. ‘Once again,’ I said, ‘Billy, you’re an idiot. The office is far more secure than my house, and right now, the streets aren’t safe. And by that I mean, it isn’t safe to walk the streets. You’d best watch your back – although I realise that that’s a big job!’ Laughing at my own joke, I watched Billy drive off down the street. Knowing him, the fat bastard was probably going to that all-night burger joint down on Fifth.

As soon as I got into the office I went to work. I barred the windows, sealed the skylights, and bolted, double-bolted, and triple-bolted the doors. I thought briefly about getting some spiders and some paint-cans on rope the way I’d seen it done in that movie Home Alone, but then I’d have to leave the office and wait around for the shops to open.

I went to the painting on my wall, a rather good picture of myself that I’d had commissioned some years ago. Behind it was a safe, and inside that safe was another painting. Behind the second painting was another safe. I opened the second safe and took out the key to the lockbox underneath the floor. I opened the lockbox and stashed the blueprints. This would have to be secure enough for the time being. I closed the various safes and paintings and poured myself a big glass of Scotch. I sat down at my desk and lit a cigarette.

The phone rang.

It was five in the morning. If this was a call centre in India calling, I was going to be annoyed.

I picked up the handset. ‘Hello?’ I said.
‘Hello, Mr. Black,’ a voice said. It was Mr. Coal. I heard an unmistakable crunch on the other end of the line.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ I said, disgusted. ‘You’re eating scorpions again, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Mr. Coal said. ‘You are quite the detective, Mr. Black. And scorpions are quite the… delicious!’ He laughed, a high-pitched, trilling, giggle, that made me want to shoot him. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a high-pitched, trilling giggle.

‘What do you want, Coal?’ I asked. ‘We don’t have any scorpions here. Only the scorpions of despair, and the scorpions of waking up every day and trying to dig yourself up out of the dirt with a shovel made out of the only thing available to you, which is more dirt, and occasionally we have the scorpions of making love to a beautiful woman. And you can’t eat any of those.’

There was a thoughtful crunch from the other end of the phone.

‘Apparently there was quite an accident tonight, I hear,’ Mr. Coal said. ‘Poor Mr. Zachary and his robot were destroyed. And you were there.’

‘Uh… no, I wasn’t.’ I said. I cursed myself for not thinking of a better excuse.

‘Don’t lie to me!’ Mr. Coal snapped. ‘We know you have the blueprints. We will be outside in ten minutes. Give them to us, or die.’

He hung up the phone. I had ten minutes to figure out how to get myself out of this. After the time it would take to finish the Scotch and the cigarette, it would be five minutes.

I had better think quickly.

Damn! I was in a tight spot. I needed to escape, I needed to get the blueprints to safety, and I also wouldn’t have minded some breakfast. A big breakfast, with sausages and eggs and maybe some hash browns on the side.

But there was no time for that now. I had to kick start my powers of intellect and ride them all the way the hell out of here, like some kind of imaginary brain-horse. And then the answer hit me. It was simple, obvious, and perfect.

I ran into Billy’s office and pulled open the third drawer in his desk. There it was, underneath his pack of emergency doughnuts- his pornography stash. Four copies of Juggs. ‘Sorry, Billy,’ I said underneath my breath as I took them out. ‘Guess you’ll just have to get yourself a new girlfriend.’ I ran to Sarah’s desk in reception and rummaged until I found a large, buff envelope. I flipped briefly through the porn before putting the magazines inside the envelope and sealing it.

I blessed the day when I had thought to put a secret exit into the office. I had only really wanted one because it seemed like kind of a cool idea at the time. But now I was going to use it, and there was nothing cooler than saving your own life by the use of a secret passage.

I pushed down on the decorative paper weight in my office and the bookshelf on the far wall slid back. The phone on my desk started to ring just as I ran into the opening of the escape hatch. Without a backwards glance, I closed it behind me. The hatch led into the crawl space between my office and the one downstairs. I nimbly dropped down into the downstairs office and then I ran into the garage. From the garage I snuck into the secret underground tunnel that I had installed there, at great expense. Right now, it seemed worth it.

But somehow, the secret was out.

Mr. Coal was standing in the secret underground tunnel. He had a pistol in his hand, and it was pointed right at me. With his other hand he fished a scorpion from his pocket, threw it up into the air and caught it in his mouth. No matter how many times I saw him do that, it was always going to turn my stomach.

‘Checkmate, Mr. Black,’ he said calmly, with a sneer on his face. ‘Where are the blueprints?’

‘Baby,’ I said, standing straight and tall, my muscles coiled, ready to explode into action, ‘we’re not playing chess. We’re playing fifty-two pick-up!’ I snatched the porn from inside my jacket and hurled it at him. Coal ran to catch the envelope. As I ran past him, I regretted that I hadn’t said something more clever that ‘fifty-two pick-up’, as there had only been one envelope, and so the ‘fifty-two’ reference was kind of wasted.

But it bought me time. As I sped down the tunnel I heard Coal’s scream of rage from behind me, and he squeezed off a shot. The sound of the pistol was deafening in the enclosed space, but he missed. Possibly he was distracted by Juggs, which was fair enough. I know I would have been.

I ran out of the escape tunnel and sure enough, there was the emergency escape motor bike that I had left there. I jumped onto it, kick-started, and then I was out of there. I figured the only place to go was Jessica Zachary’s house.

I wanted some breakfast.

She made love like a mountain lion – beautiful, fierce, and carnivorous. We managed to make our way to the bedroom in the dark, tearing our clothes off as we went. I felt a little guilty, as I knew her husband was still alive, but then I remembered that he had pointed a laser at me earlier that day, and also he wore glasses. So I figured to hell with it.

We lay in her bed afterwards, smoking cigarettes in the dark and listening to the sound of the storm outside. It was one of most atmospheric storms I could remember. I felt Jessica move in the bed beside me. She had rolled over to her side and was looking at me.

‘Sam?’ she said, ‘can I ask you something?’

‘Jesus, baby,’ I said. ‘Can’t you at least give me ten minutes? I’m smoking here.’

‘I’m sorry?’ she said. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Nothing. Nothing. What were you about to ask me?’

She drew on her cigarette. The flare of the ember in the dark dimly lit up her face. God, she was beautiful. She was as if some delicate ice sculpture had come to life and had been given the ability to get it on like some kind of ultra-sensual chainsaw.

‘Do you think,’ she said, ‘that a person can change? That if they’ve led a bad life, and done bad things, that the right person can give them the help they need to change?’

Alarm bells immediately rang in my head. What Jessica didn’t know – what Jessica couldn’t know, was that my mentor and teacher, Nick Dalziel, had been the greatest private detective the world had ever seen. How I had wept when they finally unearthed his headless, bullet-riddled carcass from out of that drum of concrete that had been set on fire!

Nick had made me memorise the great rules of private detecting until I could recite them backwards, forwards, and in Swahili, which was something of a waste of time because I didn’t speak Swahili then or now, and so I didn’t understand what I was saying.
But the Eighth Rule was this – ‘Once you’re slept with the female client, if she mentions a past of ANY kind, you’re in trouble.’

I had to get out of this apartment. After doing it a couple more times. ‘Sure I do, baby,’ I said. ‘Sure I do. Inspiration comes in all shapes and sizes. And it’s never too late to be what we could have been. Now come here and love me.’ I put out my cigarette and pulled her soft body in towards me.

A few hours later, however, as she was sleeping, I slipped out of bed and dressed silently in the dark. I left her a note in the kitchen telling her to call me. I needed time to think. Every time I pulled at a thread of this case, the whole sweater unravelled, only to be replaced by a bigger sweater – a sweater with spikes on it – a sweater that could talk. And it was talking to me right now. It was saying ‘Get out, Sam. Get out. This is too big. Go to that little country house your uncle left you. It’ll be nice there this time of year.’

But I wasn’t going to listen to that sweater’s voice. There was a case to solve, a woman to sleep with, and a fee to collect.

I was lost in thought, and that’s why I didn’t notice the car until it was right next to me. It screeched to a halt, and the driver’s door swung open. I reached for my gun, but I relaxed when I saw it was just Chester Zachary. Then I remembered I’d just been nailing his wife and I reached for my gun again.

‘Get in!’ Zachary said, leaning over to me. ‘I’ll show you what this is all about.’

Chester Zachary drove the car at a breakneck pace through the darkened streets. Seeing as how it was still early in the morning and the darkened streets were empty of traffic it wasn’t quite as dangerous as it sounded, but it was still a little unnerving. Especially as he insisted on talking while he drove.

‘I’m lucky that I stumbled across you,’ he said, wrenching at the wheel as he took a corner. I blanched a little. My stomach was starting to churn. ‘I was just driving to my hideout when I saw you. What were you doing out so early in the morning?’

‘Uh….detecting,’ I said. ‘This is a tangled case. I was doing some deep, deep investigation.’

‘Excellent,’ Zachary said. ‘I was a little worried that you might have been sleeping with my wife.’

‘Oh…no,’ I said. ‘I wa…investigating. I investigated from on top, I investigated from underneath. I even did a little investigating from behind. But sleep with your wife? No. God, no.’

‘Good man,’ Zachary said. ‘Because she’s not as innocent as she seems. I’m sorry to say that I think she might be tied up in all of this as well. That’s why I tried to warn you when I saw her go into your office.’

‘You did?’ I said, turning to look at him. ‘Really? You could have been a little bit clearer about it.’

Zachary looked puzzled. ‘Didn’t you get the message? The one that I threw through your window? With the letters A.L.E.M.B.S on it?’

‘Oh, of course,’ I said. ‘I just didn’t realise that was you. Why didn’t you just call me?’

Zachary shrugged. ‘I thought maybe your phone had been bugged.

I sighed. ‘And you couldn’t have just sent me a letter? Or a longer note? I had no idea what those letters meant. None whatsoever. How was that supposed to help me in the slightest?’

Zachary reddened and put his foot down on the accelerator a little more firmly. ‘I don’t know,’ he said petulantly. ‘You’re the detective.’

God damn scientists.

We pulled up in front of a tiny little house in the wharf district. I hate this district. It’s always cold, and quiet, and the sound of the sea creeps up on you as you’re walking. The sound of the sea is lonely in the wharf district, and it just wants a friend. But it’s a bad friend to have, and it takes much more than it gives, like a man that makes you buy his drinks and his dinner, but never returns the favour.

It was a perfect place for Zachary, a hunted, lonely man, whose wife, unbeknownst to him, had just slept with the man he trusted with his life. It was so sad it almost made me want to cry, but it didn’t.

Zachary grabbed my arm and hustled me from the car to the house. I noticed that there were at least half a dozen new locks on the door. Zachary pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and opened the heavy locks one after another. He pulled me into the house with a single glance around to make sure no one was following us.

He led me into the surprisingly spacious living room. And there it was. My jaw dropped.

It was eight foot tall and made from polished steel. It was the shape of a man’s skeleton, if a man’s skeleton was made from steel tubing and ball bearings. Flashing lights in its eye sockets hinted at some of the incredibly complicated circuitry held within. As I watched, its head turned towards me and I swear it was looking at me.

‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Zachary said. ‘Now watch this.’ Zachary pulled a silver remote control from his pocket and pressed one of the two buttons on it.

The sounds of Young MC seemed to emanate from nowhere, but after a few seconds, I realised the song was coming from the robot itself. And then the robot started to breakdance.

It started with a Valdez, then converted that into a perfect double Skyscraper. It went from there into a Rocket and it nearly punched right through the ceiling. Plaster dust fell from where its steel fists had hit the roof. The robot dropped to the ground and did a Six-Step faster than my eyes could follow, snapped up into an Icey Ice, and then started to do a Headspin. To end the show, it pulled out a 1990, moved into an Air Flare, and then, when it was back on its feet, shot lasers from its eyes and vaporised the couch.

‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘Now THAT was impressive.’

‘Yes,’ Chester Zachary said. ‘Yes it is impressive. So impressive that people are willing to kill for it.’

I thought that, coming from one of the inventors of the robot, this was a little conceited, but then I remembered how the ALEMBS had blasted the couch right out of existence with lasers from its eyes. That had been pretty cool. And then I remembered that someone had, in fact, been killing scientists to get their hands on this thing. It looked like Zachary was right.

‘So why is it here?’ I asked Zachary. ‘Why isn’t it locked up somewhere?’

‘It was,’ Zachary said, ‘I had it in a warehouse on the other side of town. But I got too nervous and so I wanted to bring it where I could know that it was safe every second of every day.’

I clicked my fingers. ‘Of course!’ I said. ‘That must have been what the Limey’s man meant when he told me to check the warehouse!’

‘Who is the Limey?’ Zachary asked, sitting down in his armchair. ‘He sounds dangerous.’

‘He is,’ I said grimly. ‘He’s quite the sauciest villain you’ll ever meet.’ Zachary looked confused. Why does no-one ever my jokes? ‘He drowns people in sauce,’ I explained, and Zachary’s face cleared.

‘Look,’ I said, ‘I’d better call my partner. We need to get you, and the robot, out of here.’ Zachary went pale. ‘Can your partner be trusted?’ he asked me.

‘Of course,’ I said, ‘I’d trust him with either your, or my, life. Not both at the one time, you understand. That might be asking a little much.’ I took out my phone and called Billy. His voice was fuzzy with sleep but as soon as I told him where I was, who and what I was with, and what he was to do, he woke up.

‘Don’t worry, Sam,’ he said. ‘I’ll be there with a truck quick smart.’

After he’d hung up I walked over to the ALEMBS. It was the single most impressive thing I’ve ever seen, after Jessica Zachary’s rack. But I wasn’t about to mention that. It looked as if it was strong enough to eat a mountain, to go sixteen rounds with sixteen clones of Mike Tyson, and then dance for two days and nights straight.

‘What’s it made out of?’ I asked Zachary.

‘Titanium,’ he said. ‘The joints are made out of titanium ball bearings, and you see all those wires? They’re made from titanium as well. Everyone said that titanium was a terrible conductor of electricity, but I showed them.’

‘So what are you planning on doing?’ I asked, turning towards Zachary. I looked at my watch. It had been twenty minutes. Where the hell was Billy? If he’d stopped off for a snack I was going to kill that fat bastard.

‘I don’t know,’ Zachary said with a sigh. ‘I think I might…’

But I never found out what Zachary might have done, which was just as well, because I wasn’t really interested so much as just making conversation to pass the time. A shot rang out, a window shattered, and Zachary pitched forward onto the carpet in a sudden spray of blood. I pulled my gun from its holster and knelt by him.

Zachary was in bad shape. I could tell by looking at him that he only had the time left to impart some knowledge of vital importance and then it would be lights out. Sure enough, he pulled out a sheaf of papers from inside his coat.

‘The blueprints,’ he said in a whisper. ‘Take them. Now… run. I’m going to hit the self destruct button. I’ll give you five minutes.’

I rose to go and he caught hold of my pants cuff. Annoyed, I was about to kick my way free when I realised that such an action would not be appropriate.

‘Did… you… sleep… with… my… wife?’ he asked, gasping the words out. Blood stained his lower lip. He looked into my eyes, pleading for the truth. He had the remote control in his hand. I could hear men outside, talking. A round of gunfire sounded, and the lamp on Zachary’s coffee table shattered. Not that it mattered, where he was going.

‘No…’ I said cautiously. I didn’t want to get lasered to death. Zachary nodded in satisfaction. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Because she’s not to be trusted…’ and with his last breath, he pressed the remote.

The door to the room burst open. It was the Limey’s men. Leading the pack was the man that had given me the tip about the warehouse.

‘Okay, Black,’ he snarled. ‘Time to say good night.’

And behind me, the ALEMBS started to move.

I dived as the Limey’s henchmen emptied their pistols at it. The bullets bounced off, and the ALEMBS walked closer to them. The sounds of Tone Loc filled the room. It was, as it always is, the sound of doom.

The ALEMBS took out the first man with an Air Kick, and I heard bones shatter. Then it dropped into a recurring series of Halos that must have killed at least three men. In a panic, the Limey’s men ran, and the ALEMBS pursued, blasting them with its laser eyes.

I ran out the back door. The sounds of old school hip hop and death still rang in my ears.
‘Sam!’ a voice yelled, and I spun. It was Billy. ‘Come on,’ he shouted, waving me into his truck. ‘Where’s Zachary?’ he asked me.

‘He didn’t make it,’ I said. ‘Now get out of here. Things are going to go boom any second.’

The truck roared onto the main road. Destruction reigned supreme. On the wide open road, the ALEMBS was throwing men this way and that like rag dolls – rag dolls that fired guns that had absolutely no effect.

Billy hit the brakes. ‘Wouldja look at that?’ he said, wonderingly.

‘Just drive!’ I said. And sure enough, we hadn’t got more than a block away when the ALEMBS detonated with a roar that would have deafened me if I’d had weaker ears. Fortunately for me I was always blessed with aural strength. An unusual quality, but one that’s saved my ass more than once.

And that was the end of the Automatic Laser Electric Monster B-Boy Supreme. But there was still a case to solve.

I patted the blueprints tucked safely in my jacket. That was the end of the ALEMBS….for now.

Jake had already left the office by the time I got there. The wind picked up outside, and the first few droplets of rain started to hit the windows. I looked up at the sky. The sun hadn’t set yet and already the sky was black.

‘Sam?’ said a voice from behind me, and I spun, reaching for my pistol. It was only Sarah, who looked as if she was about to leave.

‘Sarah,’ I said, relaxing. ‘You look as if you were about to leave.’

‘Why, yes,’ she said, putting her handbag down on the reception desk. ‘It’s six o’clock, and no-one knew where you were, and Jimmy left, so I thought I’d close up. I was just checking the back door when I heard you come in.’

‘Well, you’re not going anywhere just yet,’ I said. ‘I need you to get me a bottle of Scotch and a glass from my office and bring it into the bathroom. Atta girl.’

By the time she’d returned from my office with the Scotch, I was already soaking in the tub, bubbles tastefully arranged for the sake of propriety.

Sarah came in and placed the Scotch and the glass on the counter by the side of the bath. ‘Thanks, doll,’ I said. She smiled and swept her long brown hair back with one hand. ‘All part of a day’s work,’ she said. ‘You look awful, Sam. Where have you been?’

‘First off, do I criticise you on your appearance?’ I asked. ‘Because that hurts my feelings, and damages my self esteem. How am I supposed to detect with low self esteem?’

‘Sorry, Sam,’ she said, with downcast eyes.

‘Ah, forget it, baby,’ I said. ‘You’re too pretty to look so sad, or to understand the finer workings of the human psyche. And for your information, I was drugged and thrown into an alley by a scorpion-eating psychopath.’

‘Oh, Sam,’ Sarah said, moving a little closer. ‘How awful. You poor, poor, man. Is there anything I can do to help you recover?’

She leaned in a little closer. I leaned in towards her. ‘Well, now that you mention it,’ I said. The air seemed to take on an electric charge. Maybe it was the thunderstorm that howled outside, or maybe, it was just ten thousand volts of love. There was an inch between us. Half an inch. A centimeter. I closed my eyes. I could feel her lips about to touch mine.

The phone rang, absolutely ruining the moment.

‘I’ll get that,’ Sarah said, thickly, rearranging her skirt as she stood and left the room. ‘Let the answering machine get it, baby,’ I said, reaching for her, but it was too late.

She came back in five seconds later. In the interim period I thought about getting out of the bath and greeting her naked, but that’s a ploy that has gone sour for me before. Best to play it safe.

Sarah came back into the room and stood in the doorway. She didn’t make any move to approach any closer. ‘It’s Jessica Zachary,’ Sarah said flatly, her arms crossed. ‘She wants to know if you can come over.’

Now I was in a bind to tax the brains of the greatest minds of history. Aristotle himself would have to go and sit in a sauna by himself for an afternoon while he thought about it. Did I bust a move on the woman who was definitely eager, but sure to be around later? Or did I bust a move on the woman who may not be eager, but who was married, and therefore unlikely to in a position to be move-bustable for much longer? Either course of action would leave the other woman upset, vulnerable, and in need of comforting.

Whichever way you sliced it, there was no bad side to this situation.

Sarah was watching me, her big green eyes trying to puzzle out what course of action I was about to take. Forget about it, baby. There was only one detective in this room, and that was me. Perhaps if the figuring out of what I was about to do next was a secretarial task of some kind, you could do it. But it’s not, and you can’t.

I stood, reaching for a towel. Sarah gasped and quickly turned away. ‘Sam!’ she said, blushing furiously. ‘You’re not decent!’

I stepped out of the bath and wrapped the towel around my waist.’I'd say it’s decent, baby,’ I said. ‘In fact, I’d say it’s a little oversized.’ Jesus I crack myself up sometimes. I should be writing this stuff down.

‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it!’ Sarah said, turning back to face me. She ran a hand up to the back of her neck. ‘I guess this means you’re going over to Jessica Zachary’s place, then, right?’ She looked sad. In fact, a hundred hungry, cold, wet kittens couldn’t have looked sadder. Not even if they were wearing bows made of ribbon around their necks.

‘I guess it does,’ I said. ‘But only because she’s a client, and she needs me. This case is going crazy, like a pot full of Guatemalan jumping lobsters, and I’m going to the man to serve them up for dinner.’

Sarah shrugged. ‘Whatever,’ she said, and the coldness in her voice could have frozen the blood of a man made out of fire.

It was a crazy thing to do, but crazy is my middle name. Samuel Crazy Black. Poor ma never had much of a way with names. As Sarah turned to storm out of the room, I caught her by the wrist and swung her in towards me. ‘Tell this to your whatever, baby,’ I said, and I swung her down by the waist and planted one right on her lips.

I counted to sixty in my head. I’m a firm believer that a first kiss should never last more than a minute. After those electric sixty seconds were over, I let her go and stepped back. Sarah slowly opened her eyes. ‘Why… Sam,’ she said. ‘I do believe there’s something in that towel with you.’

‘I do believe there is,’ I said, ‘but as you can see, my pistol is sitting on the shelf over there.’

I shooed her out of the office with promises of more making out to come, and then I got dressed to go and see Jessica Zachary. Having been in similar situations to this before, I always make sure that I’ve always got a back-up seduction suit hanging in my office closet. And there it was – black, sharp-lined, and guaranteed to make yours truly look like a wolf in wolf’s clothing.

I dressed quickly and made my way to Jessica Zachary’s place. The rain was really starting to come down and I ran from the awning of one building to another, not wanting to ruin the lines of my suit. Then again, I thought, with me inside of it, it would be pretty hard to destroy how good this suit looked.

I got to Jessica Zachary’s place just as lightning flashed in the sky. I knocked on the door three times and waited for the door to open.

The door opened. Framed by the light behind her, she was a dream come to life. Not the bad kind of dream, where you’re not wearing any pants, but the good kind of dream, where you’re not wearing any pants. The cold night air swept around us both. The wind carried my breath from my mouth to hers, bringing with it all my hopes, and fears, and secret longings. And, I assume, vice versa.

She wore her hair loose, and the wind lifted it gently around her face. She was wearing a thin cotton dress, which seemed impractical considering the weather. It clung to her body like the cobwebs of some giant, sensual spider. No, wait. That’s a disgusting image, and it is turning me off. It clung to her body like the finest silk, outlining her bust, and her slim waist, but mainly her bust.

She leaned up against the doorframe. ‘Hello, Sam,’ she said. Her voice was low and husky, and carried undertones that hinted at secret valleys of desire that Swiss poets of lust go yodelling in. I was smitten. My heart felt as if it was about to burst in my chest.

‘Tell this to your whatever, baby,’ I said, and reached for her.

I woke up in an alley with a bad taste in my mouth and a fuzzy pounding feeling in my head. Jesus, was it any one of the mornings from Monday to Sunday? Again?

Then I remembered – I’d been drugged. By Coal and Glaudio. I hastily checked my wallet, my gun, my watch, my phone and my expensive belt, which had been a gift from the Countess of Malta (a long and convoluted story, that one. But I got a belt out of it). Everything was still there. In relief, I breathed out a long sigh of relief.

But my relief was to be short lived. After sitting up gingerly from the middle of the bags of garbage that I’d been casually dumped on like so much meat that the cat refused to eat, I heard an unpleasant little clicking sound. It sounded almost exactly like the safety catch being removed on a pistol, but much more high tech.

I turned and looked down the length of the alley. A plastic bag, picked up by the wind, scudded across the ground and through a pool of oily water, splashing black droplets around in a fine spray. Man, this alley was a mess. Did Coal and Glaudio drop me here not knowing how dirty it was? Or did they did it intentionally, to hurt my feelings? And why an alley, anyway? I already knew where their base of operations was. They couldn’t have just left me there on the couch?

But these were all for considerations for another time. Standing in the alley, his coat flapping in the wind, his hair looking uncombed and with three days worth of stubble on his face, was none other than Chester Zachary, the very man I’d been hired to find. He was holding a strange, futuristic looking gun in his hands. And it was pointed at yours truly.

‘What the hell is that thing?’ I asked, pointing at the elongated, silvery gun he was holding. He didn’t so much as glance down. ‘It’s a laser gun,’ he said. ‘Now listen to me, Black, if that IS your real name, because…’

‘No way,’ I said, my mouth rising at the corners in an unbelieving grin. ‘Really? A laser?’

‘Yes,’ Zachary said, beginning to look annoyed. ‘It’s a laser. Now listen to me.’ Behind his glasses, his watery scientist’s eyes narrowed. ‘It’s of the utmost importance that you….’

‘Prove it,’ I said. ‘Zap something. Come on. I dare you.’

‘Shut up!’ Zachary said. ‘I’ll zap you in a second.’ I held up my hands in the universal gesture of defenceless innocence. ‘Hey, whatever, man,’ I said, and Zachary seemed mollified. Under my breath I added ‘Real laser, my ass.’

‘What was that?’ Zachary asked sharply, pointing the laser right at my face.

‘Nothing!’ I said, giving him my best smile. It figured, though. The fact that he invented a laser would explain why a woman as fine as Jessica would marry a chump like this. Even if he was looking his best, he still couldn’t cool a glass of water with his presence.

‘Listen to me,’ Zachary said, coming closer. ‘I don’t have much time. I wasn’t sure whose side you were on, so I’ve been following you. When I saw Coal and Glaudio throw you in here, I knew that I could trust you. I can trust you, can’t I. Mr. Black?’ He had a pleading tone in his voice, and I saw that for all his assumed toughness and laser guns, he was just a scientist, playing detective in an arena where scientists never come out the winners. My heart went out to the little nerd.

‘Of course you can,’ I said, as gently as possible. Under my breath I added ‘Just not with your wife.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Zachary said. ‘Did you just say something about my wife?’

‘Uh…no,’ I said. I gave him my friendliest smile. ‘I said that you could trust me with your life.’

‘Oh,’ Zachary said. ‘How come you said it underneath your breath?’

‘Did I?’ I asked. ‘Oh. How strange. I don’t know. Anyway, what were you talking about?’

Zachary pulled himself together. ‘I was part of a research team at McBain Research,’ he began. ‘We were working on a secret robotics project. There was an accident at the lab and suddenly the project was sent off on an entirely new tangent.’ He paused and looked at me significantly. ‘Mr. Black,’ he said, ‘we had invented the world’s first dancing robot!’

I think he thought that I would find the news more impressive. ‘You mean, like one of those ripped open coke cans that dances to a tune?’ I asked. ‘Big deal.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s impossible to understand unless you’ve seen it. And see it you will. We called it the Automatic Laser Electric Monster B-Boy Supreme. And people will kill to get it. I’m in hiding for my life right now.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Well, you should probably stay that way. Absolutely no contact with anyone. Especially your wife.’

‘But you can tell her that I’m alive, though, can’t you?’ Zachary asked me.

‘Sorry, Chester, no can do,’ I said. ‘No-one can know.’

Zachary took a single, hunted look around. ‘You’re right, of course,’ he said. ‘And now I must go. I’ll call you when it’s safe enough for you to come and see the Automatic Laser Electric Monster B-Boy Supreme.’ He gave me final nod, and bolted. I pulled my packet of cigarettes from my pocket.

This case was starting to get weird.

I dusted garbage from my coat and walked out to the street. I needed a drink. I looked up at the sky. Black clouds were streaming in from the east. Damn east. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and turned the collar up. Sure, it stank like garbage, but with any luck the smell of mint that still lingered on me would counteract that. At the very least I’d confuse any sniffer dogs.

I found a street sign. Coal and Glaudio had dumped me about five blocks from my office. I wish I knew where they had put my car. A detective who can solve a case without a car is like a day when Elle Macpherson admits she’s always loved you – they only exist in dreams. And this wasn’t time for dreaming. This was time for solving a case, and having my second bath of the day, and drinking a relaxing glass of fine Scotch.

People gave me strange looks as I walked through the streets, my hands deep in my pockets, lost in my own thoughts. One man wrinkled his nose and made a ‘pee-yuw’ sound, waving his hand under his nose as he saw me. I was tempted to sock him right in the jaw, but he was bigger than me, so I didn’t.

I arrived at the office in a cloud of stench. Fortunately, there is a small bathroom on the premises for just such an occasion. It seems like every week either Jake or I gets thrown into a dumpster, or a garbage-filled alley, or, on at least one occasion, a pit full of angry skunks. So the bathroom comes in handy.

To my darling Cecilia,

The cold winds of San Francisco chill me to the bone, Cecilia. Not literally, you understand, because I have the heat turned up and it’s really quite pleasant in here, but their horrible wailings echo down the chimney and remind me of the sounds that I made the time I came home to find that you had forgotten to TiVo the episode of Heroes where Ando finally makes it onto the scoreboard.

But then again, such betrayal was always your stock in trade, wasn’t it, Cecilia? You could scarcely make it past breakfast without betraying me at least once. I would sit and drizzle my delicious, home-made maple syrup over my moist breakfast waffles and then silently cut those waffles into bite-sized pieces with my fork, all the while thinking How is she going to doublecross me this time? I don’t think I was able to relax and enjoy a single morning meal during the entire tenure of our relationship, except for those mornings from November 2003 to March 2004, a period of time that you spent immobilised in a full-body cast.  Oh, how I wish we could go back to those days! Seeing you there, strapped motionlessly into place, unable to help or defend yourself… God, it made me the happiest man on Earth.

San Francisco is a brutal and unlovely city, Cecilia. Acceptance, brotherhood, Geena Davis… such things are only legends here, tales to be told by homeless people (a large number of whom are solicitors these days, and who break my heart as they stand on the street corners, signs around their necks that read ‘Will work for six-figure salary and good dental’) over a blazing fire of yoga mats shortly before being dragged off into the shadows and mercilessly beaten by the gangs of thugs who roam this godforsaken place. It is barren and lifeless and covered in concrete, Cecilia, which is why I like it so much, as it reminds me of both your soul and the bed that we shared for so long.

The utter joylessness of San Francisco is a sweet balm to me, Cecilia, and I hope that one day you too will find yourself in this awful city, and that it will turn you into same kind of monster that I find myself becoming the more that this place seeps into my bones. A guitar-playing, organic-food-eating, gym-going-to shadow of my former self. I can’t even remember the last time I enjoyed rare steak, unless it was approximately fourteen weeks ago, which sounds about right. My memory is also hazy on the issue of side dishes, but I believe a fragrant chipotle was also served. On a bed of sliced and fried cassava, the dim recollection of which makes my mouth water.

I moved here to San Francisco to escape you, Cecilia, but, like Aaron Eckhart explained so clearly in the closing scenes of The Dark Knight, there is no escape from this. And by ‘this’ I mean ‘you’. You are my half-burned face, Cecilia, and I feel the torment of Harvey Dent like no other man ever could. Like a head that was soaked in oil and set aflame, you are a pain that never leaves me. Like a skull with the muscle and bone exposed, you are an ever-present stain on my soul. Like a monstrously-damaged face, you are the person that I see in the mirror (which makes it difficult to shave, and every time I run my fingers over my face only to feel a patch of stibble that I missed, I pray for your doom).

Dear God, Cecilia, what happened to me? Apart from you? I know what happened to our love (Steve Buscemi), but I never wanted this life for myself! I would have run screaming across the Northern Hemisphere, stopping only to sleep, eat, and stretch my quads if I had ever thought that I would wake to find myself in San Francisco with my hands tenderly holding the neck of the guitar that has become my only friend on a regular basis. My dreams of conquest, and eating at Burger King two to three times a week, and of lulling myself to sleep at night with the sound of money piling up somehow faded and disappeared behind the mental miasma that permeates this awful town.

But no more, Cecilia. The slow engines of my torment have provided more than enough grist to my grind, and now I see the truth of the matter. I shall return, Cecilia, return to claim what is mine, and, what’s more, to claim what belongs to other people! Beware, Cecilia! Beware!

Yours,

Simon