The Three Sisters (19 page)

“Give the man a cigar, and they are not hostages,” confirmed cowdy K. “They are staying here of their own
free will.”

“Be that as it may, at this time we will presume that they are being held against their will since on any normal day they would have left at closing time, whereas today, they
did not.”

“This is no ordinary day,” promised K suggestively, interrupting the detective
once again.

“The fact that they are being held hostage is the only logical explanation for their behavior. Again, I repeat that we advise you to release your hostages. If you cooperate with us, I can assure you that we will help you once you are taken
into custody.”

“Of course,” Coito cheerfully answered, “we’d be happy to comply with your request, Detective Hole, but I really can’t see any reason why our guests would wish to leave. Besides, we haven’t even given them all we promised.” Mr. Yansky had been helping Coito for several minutes when the solution to their problem struck her. “And it is up to you whether they get their due.” K knew how to get rid of Detective Hole, but to do so, Coito would have to build up her idea to make it convincing. “Listen here, Wormwood, we came here with our minds set on doing one thing, and we won’t leave until our job
is done.”

Detective Hole noticed that Miss Gott had changed her tone and was beginning to take a harder line. This time, Detective Hole looked at the FBI men. “And may I ask what your plans are for the evening?” Detective
Hole inquired.

“You certainly may not. Go read the Bible or something,” retorted K harshly. Both FBI men looked at Detective Hole. They signaled him that it might be better to talk to
her later.

“My dear heatheness,” he said, growing angry, “I am afraid you have little choice as to whether you will release your hostages or not. The only question is when and how they will gain
their freedom.”

Firm as Simon the Stylite, Coito held her ground. “I’m sorry, Schmuck Hole, we will not let our people go unless you fulfill our ransom demands.” This time both FBI men, Captain Edwards, and Detective Hole looked at one another perplexed. None of them knew of any
ransom demands.

“And what are the
ransom demands?”

Coito fell silent. What could she ask for? She knew the detective would never meet the demands, especially her demands, but she had to stall him so they could have their orgy. “We have two little requests that will be very easy for you to fulfill. First, we want three well-built men to join us
up here.”

“What do you want
with them?”

“If you have to ask, Schmuckie-baby, you
wouldn’t understand.”

“And your
second demand?”

“We want to talk directly to the Pope. We just feel so bad about what we’ve done,” Coito feigned repentance, “that if only we could confess our sins to His Holiness, we would be happy to surrender.”

Coito knew Detective Hole would take this request seriously, not realizing she was just trying to buy time. In Schmuck Hole’s mind, the bizarre requests were signs that the three were beginning to crack under the pressure. No sane person would make such demands. Mental instability could account for the change in her tone a while back, but why would she want three well-built men? Why ask for three additional hostages? She should know the police would never give into such a demand, and the chance of the police persuading the Pope to speak to these degenerates was close to zero. Nevertheless, he would have to play along with her until they finished the conversation and he could discuss the ransom demands with
the FBI.

“And the longer you wait to meet our demands,” Coito added, “the more we will ask in return for
leaving here.”

“Very well then, would it be possible for me to speak with one of the hostages?” requested the eupractic detective, hoping to see whether the hostages were being treated well. He doubted he would get the chance to speak with any of the hostages, but it was worth
a try.

“Certainly,” she replied, shocking Detective Hole. Coito’s behavior was completely unpredictable, he thought. “But just for a minute, and no tricks,” Coito
told him.

A pause.

“Hello,” replied
the voice.

“Whom am I speaking with?” asked the
mirthless detective.

“This is
Mr. Yansky.”

“Are you doing all right? Does anyone need medical attention?” he
quickly asked.

“No, everything’s great.” It was obvious to Detective Hole by the bright tone in Mr. Yansky’s voice (though he did sound a bit tired) that he was not free to tell the truth. In reality, he feared for his very life, but could not reveal his fears with Miss Gott standing next
to him.

“Are the others all right,
Mr. Yansky?”

“Oh yes, we’re all having a
wonderful time.”

Though the detective could not discern the real situation upstairs, he could at least reassure the hostage. “Mr Yansky, I give you my personal word that we will do everything in our power to obtain your release. Don’t be afraid. I promise you, we will get you
out unharmed.”

“Time’s up, Philistine dog,” screamed colubrine K. Taking the phone in hand, she purposely dropped it on the floor to annoy
the detective.

“If you wish, I can have some food sent up,” he offered. Though the police had plans of the Washington Monument before them, they knew nothing of the criminals’ and hostages’ exact locations on the top floors, or how many and what kind of weapons they
might have.

“We’re not hungry, Schmuckie baby. We’ve got plenty to eat up here.” Coito laughed. Remembering the needs of her orectic orifice, Coito finished up. “Listen, we may consider releasing one of the hostages as a goodwill gesture, but we’ll have to think about it.” Everyone listening in on the conversation below the Washington Monument looked at one another. Coito had become conciliatory again.

“We don’t want to be disturbed by you or any of your minions for the next five hours while we make up our minds, got that? If we hear so much as a peep out of you before two a.m., the hostages will suffer for it, and you’ll be responsible for what happens. Leave us alone until then, and we may release a hostage or tell you where the Rams are.” Coito slammed the receiver down, let out a deep breath, gave one of her wicked smiles to the others, and began
to laugh.

Detective Hole, Captain Edwards, and the FBI men began to discuss the conversation. They knew a lot more about the situation than before the phone call, but they were concerned, not only about the hard line Coito had taken and the abrupt end to the conversation, but about Coito’s sudden personality changes. Their worst fear was that she might suddenly turn on the hostages and injure them. A negotiated surrender was possible, but force might be needed. Detective Hole, being pessimistic by nature, gave the go-ahead to the SWAT team to prepare for an assault in case negotiations
broke down.

Locked in their enclave, Coito and the other two apolaustic penguins had no intention of harming the hostages, but acting tough was the only way she knew of getting rid of Detective Hole for a few hours. All that concerned her for now was her physical needs. What she would do when two A.M. arrived, she
knew not.

Thanks to K’s quick thinking, the six were free to execute the grand party which they had planned for the closing hours of the day. With red lights flashing above them, the group began their orgy, hoping to forget about Detective Hole, the policemen, and the reporters stationed below. That night the children of Peter did what was evil in the sight of the Lord (“God must be a real Peeping Tom,” Regina had once declared of the Omnivoyeur) when they participated in the most infamous platonic orgy of their lives.

For the next five hours, a symphony of sounds filled with dissonant crescendos and decrescendos was created within the tower which even the most avant-garde composer had never dreamed of conducting. The choral symphony that was performed atop the capital of the free world on May
1
8
/
19
,
1979
was one its participants never forgot. If you listen closely, you will hear things that go bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump in the night at the new Tower of Babel, so those who can hear, open your ears for the overture has already begun.

“JMJ.”

“AMDG!”
he groaned.

“Ah,” sighed K, her
cony caught.

“Begin the Beguine,” declared Regina, remembering Fred
and Eleanor.

“Cut and come quick,” added coved K, looking at Mr. Merring’s
coleatic column.

“Rock of Ages, Cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee,”

sang the Christians who had gathered below

to sing praises to the Lord and

pray for the
hostages’ release.

“Free will can co-exist with
absolute necessity.”

“Bring
us together.”

“
Tout est pour le mieux dans le meilleur des
mondes possibles.

“Cela est bien dit, mais il faut cultiver
notre jardin.”

“Who is worthy to open this book?”
asked Theodora.

“
In
His Steps
.”

“In her steppes,” confessed
Mr. Yansky.

“I AM,”
he answered.

“Behold, noise
and confusion.”

“And he has made
me glad,”

“
Gloria in
excelsis Deo
.”

“
In media res
again, I see,”
added Theodora.

“Ah, the
True Vine.”

“How goodly are
thy tents.”

“Vanity
of vanities.”

“Why not the best?” he
asked her.

“All
is vanity.”

“Why not
the breast?”

“Thus saith the preacher,” Mr.
Simpson concluded.

“The abhorred of the Lord shall fall into
her ditch.”

“Just as I am, thy love unknown,

Has broken every barrier down.

Now to be thine, now thine alone,

O Lamb of God,
I come.”

“Turn the radio on,”
yelled Regina.

“Dididideedee,
dididideedee, dididideedeedidididee.”

“Me a Valkyrie?”
asked K.

“Take that off. This is
holy ground.”

“Did the BVM
wear BVDs?”

“
Hoc est corpus meum
,”
replied Theodora.

“Lead us into temptation,”
requested Regina.

“
Non sequitor
.”

“Enchanted ground.”

“HVJ,” said
the radio.

“Enchanted sound.”

“Nothing like a coital catastasis,”
concluded K.

“Enchantment found.”

“Oh you must be a lover of the Lord

Or you can’t get to heaven when
you die.”

“Thou art fair to look upon
my dove.”

“Boy, are you going to catch hell tonight,” promised Theodora, recalling
Shakespearian English.

“It’s Grant’s Tomb,” cried
John Merring.

“No cherry orchard here.”

“Who knows what evil lurks in the minds of intellectuals?”
asked Regina.

“The
FBI knows.”

“Lord, by thy favor thou hast made my mountain to stand strong.”

“Holy,
holy, holy.”

“Selah.”

“I’m hungry!”

“Who
wants cum?”

“I do,
I do.”

“Aren’t platonic
orgies fun?”

“Much more pleasant are its waters
than honey.”

“Oh come let us sing unto
the Lord.”

“Is this the river of the Valley
of Life?”

“Well, at least
the riverbed.”

“Lo, he abhors not the
virgin womb.”

“Much
less us.”

“Let us make a joyful noise to the Rock of Salvation.”

“Don’t shoot ’till you see the whites of their things,” declared
Mr. Simpson.

“IHS.”

“Somewhere, over
my rainbow.”

“Regina,
stop giggling.”

“And the power of the most high shall
overpower thee.”

“Baptize me.”

“Praise the Lord!”
proclaimed the
preacher below.

“And pass
the ammunition.”

“It’s naughty but it’s nice,”
declared Coito.