The Dark Side (24 page)

VIVA REDEMPTION!

“Bullshit,” Chief Buchanan says again. “I told you we'd get more of the same.”

“You did,” agrees Justus. “And you also said we'd get more murders.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing—I just admire your foresight.” Justus hands the statement to Jacinta Carvalho, saying, “Get it to Forensics immediately—see if it gives off the same DNA signatures as the first statement. And don't let any of this leak to the
Tablet
until I say so, understand?”

“Too late for that,” says Carvalho.

“What's that mean?”

“It's already in the
Tablet
. Special edition. Front page.”

“And how did that happen?”

“They got their own copy.”

“They got their own copy? Well, okay, I want that too. And I want that with Forensics as well, before anyone else from the paper gets their paws on it.”

Carvalho looks dumbfounded. “You want
me
to go to the
Tablet
?”

“You got something better to do?”

“But it's lunchtime, and I—”

“No,” says Justus, “it's
hunting
time. So eat in the saddle. Or save your appetite for Chief Buchanan's barbeque. I'm sure the chief himself agrees.”

Silence from Buchanan—the whole mood in the room is that of a churlish road gang ordered back to work—so Justus turns and looks at the chief directly. “Isn't that right, Chief?” he says.

And finally Buchanan, like a man cornered, blows out his lips and forces a nod. “That's right,” he says to the others. “You heard the lieutenant—and
he's
the man in charge. So snap to it. Get back on your fuckin' ponies!”

The cops start filing out of the room. The surly Russian spares
enough time to snarl something in Justus's ear. Then Buchanan himself waddles over, looking disingenuously contrite. He slaps Justus on the back.

“Hey, we'll talk about this later, yeah? But for now, just don't get the wrong idea—it's just the way things are around here. The boys have to deal with so much shit in this town that they have a sorta natural reaction to a scene like this. But they'll get over it in time, you'll see. Just don't take anything personally, okay?”

“Yeah,” Justus says blankly, staring at the hacked-open body of Kit Zachary. “Yeah.”

But he's no longer thinking about insubordinate cops. He's no longer thinking of procedure. He's not even thinking about Kit Zachary and the dead prostitute. He's just trying to make sense of the word Grigory Kalganov whispered to him on the way past.

Pazuzu.

T
HE DROID IS NOW
inside the VLTV. When he first spied its deep tracks, twenty minutes earlier, his intention was to take over the vehicle as quickly as possible. Accordingly he followed its trail, came in sight of the VLTV itself, and then sprang on top, hoping to bust his way inside and kill the driver by depressurization alone. But the roof, he discovered, was sealed over with an impenetrable radiation shield. So he peered over the top of the vehicle, aiming to break the front window, but in so doing he could not help noticing the many passengers within. And it suddenly occurred to him that this was an all-new opportunity—to reach his destination incognito, as it were, hidden within a group. So he dropped to the ground and through gestures made it clear that he would like to be permitted inside.

The VLTV had its own cubicle-like airlock situated at the rear. After the customary pressure-seal checks and cleaning procedures,
the droid squeezed through into the passenger compartment, where his arrival was greeted with much amusement.

“—careful of his dust,” the driver was saying.

“Hey, dude, we're Dustproof, remember?”

“Step aboard, my man.”

“Someone make room for the new guy!”

“Brenda, you wanna sit on Daddy's lap?”

“Here's a seat, man.”

“What's your name, dude?”

The droid, lowering himself between the man with dreadlocks and the man with a blue spider tattoo on his forehead, sees visible affection on the faces of the passengers, as if he has relieved them of a great boredom.

“I am the Wizard,” he says.

“ 'Course you are, man.”

“I told you he was.”

“You said he was a kangaroo.”

“I said he
looked like
a kangaroo.”

“Sure you're not a narc?”

This last is said by the man with the imposing beard.

“What is a narc, sir?”

“Never mind. You're not one?”

“I am not, sir.”

“You're not a security guy or anything? You're not gonna arrest us?”

“You have no reason to be concerned. I only want to sit here and enjoy your company. Are you the King?”

“The King?”

“Sure thinks he is,” says the girl in his lap.

The bearded man chuckles. “The King is in Memphis, man—in a coffin.”

“I am sorry to hear that, sir. Who are you, then, if not the King?”

“I'm Maxx Dee. With a double X and a double E.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dee with a double X and a double E.”

“And this here is Brenda, and that's—what the fuck's your name again?—Maia. And Q'mar Kent is my man on drums. And Massive Richard is the little guy who's totally wasted there. And that ugly motherfucker to your left is Spyder Blue.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Brenda, Maia, Q'mar Kent, Massive Richard, and Spyder Blue.”

“And I'm Torkie,” Macleod sings out from the front. “The driver.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Torkie. Why are you not driving, if you are the driver?”

“Yeah,” says Maxx Dee, “why are you not driving, man?”

“Let's get movin'.”

“Back on the road, man.”

“I wanna see those diamonds.”

“I wanna see those nebulas.”

“What about our new guy here?” Q'mar Kent asks. “What were you doin' out on the surface?”

The dreadlocked Q'mar has a red pulse-light in his left nostril that flashes with each heartbeat. The droid looks at him steadily.

“I am going to Purgatory, sir.”

“Purgatory, huh?”

“That is correct, sir. To Purgatory. El Dorado. Oz.”

Chuckles all around. “Hey, man,” says Spyder Blue, “you wanna go to Oz, we can get you there right now.”

“I
do
want to go to Oz, sir.”

“Just a sec.”

Spyder Blue reaches into a plastic bag and hands the droid a milky white tablet in the shape of the Moon.

The droid looks at it skeptically. “And what is this, sir? Is it sugar?”

“It ain't sugar.”

“Is it fuel?”

“You could call it fuel.”

The droid holds it up in front of his eyes, but Spyder Blue interjects. “It's best if you just swallow it, man.”

“And by performing this action, sir, I will get to Oz?”

“Oh yeah, man.”

So the droid places the tab on his tongue and gulps it down. But in analyzing its chemical composition he is severely disappointed.

“Sir,” he says, “this contains only trace elements of glucose. It does nothing for me. It takes me nowhere.”

Everyone laughs and mocks Spyder Blue.

“Hey, man, that was three hundred bucks right there.”

“Serves you right, dude.”

“Giving Blue Moon to a tinnie.”

The droid, still disappointed, looks at Spyder Blue. “You told me I would get to Oz, sir.”

“You just gotta wait.”

“Wait, sir?”

“Till Oz comes to you.”

Torkie Macleod interjects from the front: “Forget about Oz, man—we'll be hitting Nocturnity soon.”

“Nocturnity?” asks the droid.

“That's right—you got good visual sensors?”

“I do, sir.”

“Then turn your eyes to the sky, once we get there, and you'll see more stars than you ever dreamed of.”

“And is this Nocturnity to the north, sir?”

“Not really.”

“But I need to head north.”

“We're not goin' north.”

“But it is easy enough for you to change direction, if you are really the driver.”

“We're not goin' north because it's not what these folks paid for.”

The droid, still smiling, looks back at the others and says, “I need to go north.”

The others think about it but don't respond. So the droid says, more firmly:

“I need to go north.”

Q'mar Kent, to his right, is the most accommodating.

“Was it north where you were heading when we picked you up?”

“It was, sir.”

“To Purgatory, you said?”

“That is correct, sir. Purgatory. El Dorado. Oz.”

“Is it an emergency or something?”

“I consider it an emergency.”

“What're you gonna do when you get there?”

“I am going to be the Wizard. The conquistador. The King.”

Q'mar chuckles. “I can buy that, man. They got some serious Lucy in Purgatory, I know that much.” He half turns to the others. “Say, how about we go to Purgatory anyway? The Wizard here needs to go to Oz. And I want to check out their Lucy.”

Silence for a few moments, then Maxx Dee sniffs and says, “Nah, man, we can't go to Purgatory.”

“ 'Course we can—we're halfway there already. More than half.”

“What are we gonna do there?”

“Get some Lucy. Some White Lightning. Some Felix the Cat. You'll be needing some more by then anyway.”

Maxx Dee chortles but shakes his head.

Macleod speaks up. “I can't just take you into Purgatory, you know. You got your passports?”

Q'mar says, “We got our chips, man—that's the same thing.”

“They can still knock us back.”

“It's worth a shot.”

“Well, I can't take you there for free, anyway.”

The droid interjects. “I will pay.”

“
You'll
pay?” Macleod asks, looking at him.

“That is what I said, sir.”

“You sure you got that sort of dough?”

“I have unlimited resources at my disposal, sir.”

“You mean your
master
will pay?”

“You will be paid all that you require, plus a substantial bonus, when you deliver me to Purgatory, sir.”

“There ya go!” Q'mar says to the others. “The Wizard's loaded—and we're not even payin' for it! Whaddaya say?”

“Nah,” Maxx Dee grunts. “I want to see Nocturnity.”

“If we head north now,” Macleod points out, “Nocturnity will overtake us anyway.”

“I dunno, man,” says Maxx Dee. “I dunno.”

“Let's vote on it,” Brenda says.

“Yeah,” agrees Spyder Blue, “let's make it democratic.”

“Leave me out of it,” says Macleod, laughing. “I got no dog in the fight.”

“Well, okay, then,” decides Maxx Dee. “There's—what?—seven of us, including the narc. That oughta settle it.”

The droid shakes his head. “But I do not want to vote, sir. I already know where I need to go. And I will pay.”

“Chill out, dude,” says Maxx Dee. “We
gotta
vote. You believe in democracy, don't you?”

“I believe in capitalism, free enterprise, and natural rights.”

“Exactly—so we vote, and the majority rules, okay?”

“I am the majority,” says the droid.

“No, you're one vote. And I'm a second vote. That's one vote says we go to Purgatory, and one says we don't.”

“And I say we
don't
,” says Brenda. “That's two against.”

“Well, I say we
do
go,” says Maia.

“That's two votes all,” says Maxx Dee. “What about you, Massive Richard?” He prods the sleeping figure in front of him.

Massive Richard tries to open his glued-together eyes. “Wassup?”

“You wanna go to Purgatory?”

“Wha—?”

“Do you wanna go to Purgatory? Up north? We're having a vote.”

“Wha—?”

“Just say yes or no, man,” says Maxx Dee. “Yes or no.”

Massive Richard shrugs indifferently. “No,” he says. “I dunno—I just wanna fuckin' sleep.” He closes his eyes again.

“That's three votes to two,” says Maxx Dee.

“Well, I sure wanna go,” says Q'mar Kent. “So that's three votes all.”

Everyone turns to Spyder Blue. “Looks like it's your choice, man,” says Maxx Dee. “You hold the deciding vote.”

Spyder Blue laughs. “Anyone wanna pay me?”

“I will pay you, sir,” says the droid.

“I was joking.”

“Nevertheless, I will pay you.”

“That's not the way democracy works.”

“I believe it does, sir.”

“Sorry, man,” Spyder Blue says, “but as much as I like money, and as much as I like this acid, I always make up my own mind, okay? So it's no deal—I'm gonna say no.”

The droid stares at him. “Did you say ‘no,' sir?”

“Yup—I don't wanna go to Purgatory.”

“But I need to go to Purgatory, sir.”

“Sorry, man, but I don't.”

“But I do.”

Spyder Blue shrugs. “Sorry, man.”

“Well, that's it,” Maxx Dee says from behind. “That's it settled. Four votes to three. And you lose, man.”

The droid says nothing.

“Majority rules, okay?”

The droid keeps staring at Spyder Blue. And staring. And then a very obvious solution seems to occur to him. And he doesn't waste any time.

His fist shoots out and smashes into Spyder Blue's head with the force of a wrecking ball. And Spyder Blue's neck snaps and his head rebounds, flopping forward onto his chest.