The Ticket That Exploded (Burroughs, William S.) (2 page)

Bradly’s left arm went numb and the tingling paralysis spread down his left side — He felt crushing weight of the Green Octopus who was there to block any composite being and maintain her flesh monopoly of birth and death — Her idiot camp followers drew him into the Garden of Delights — back into human flesh — The Garden of Delights is a vast tingling numbness surrounded by ovens of white-hot metal lattice with sloped funnels like a fish trap — Outside the oven funnels is a ruined area of sex booths, Turkish baths and transient hotels — orgasm addicts stacked in rubbish heaps like muttering burlap — phantom sex guides flashing dirty movies — sound of fear — dark street life of a place forgotten — “It might take a little while.” The Garden of Delights . . GOD . . Remember my old C.O. standing there with a hangman’s noose in his hands . . “You see this noose, Lee? This is a
weapon
.. an enemy
weapon.”

That was in 1962. In the years that followed I contacted a number of undergrounds with various aims methods and organizational setups among which was an equivocal group of assassins called the “White Hunters.” Were they white supremacists or an anti-white movement far ahead of the Black Muslims? The extreme right or far left of the Chinese? Representatives of Hassan i Sabbah or the White Goddess? No one knew and in this uncertainty lay the particular terror they inspired. The District Supervisor received me in a paneled room with fireplace, a country house it would seem rain outside a misty landscape. After motioning me to a deep leather armchair the D.S. walked around behind me talking in a voice without accent or inflection, a voice that no one could connect to the speaker or recognize on hearing it again. The man who used that voice had no native language. He had learned the use of an alien tool. The words floated in the air behind him as he walked.

“In this organization, Mr Lee, we do not encourage togetherness,
esprit de corps
. We do not give our agents the impression of belonging. As you know most existing organizations stress such primitive reactions as unquestioning obedience. Their agents become addicted to orders. You will receive orders of course and in some cases you will be well-advised not to carry out the orders you receive. On the other hand your failure to obey certain orders could expose you to dangers of which you can have at this point in your training no conception. There are worse things than death Mr Lee for example to live under the conditions your enemies will endeavor to impose. And the members of all existing organizations are at some
point your enemy. You will learn to know where this point is if you survive. You will receive your instructions in many ways. From books, street signs, films, in some cases from agents who purport to be and may actually be members of the organization. There is no certainty. Those who need certainty are of no interest to this department. This is in point of fact a
non-organization
the aim of which is to immunize our agents against fear despair and death. We intend to break the birth-death cycle. As you know inoculation is the weapon of choice against virus and inoculation can only be effected through exposure . . . exposure to the pleasures offered under enemy conditions: a computerized Garden of Delights: exposure to the pain posed as an alternative . . you remember the ovens I think . . exposure to despair: ‘The end is the beginning born knowing’ the unforgivable sin of despair. You attempted to be God that is to
intervene
and failed utterly . . . Exposure to death: sad shrinking face . . he had come a long way for something not exchanged born for something knowing not exchanged. He died during the night.”

A series of oblique references: “Zurich Saturday morning meet the so convenient Webber family at the B.P. Auto Stop. Hear realize that B.P. is not only and you’ll find them buying everything from organization Shannon believe they can tape recorded at 23 Mount St it is that’s what I thought and there’s a little boy that’s been reproduced in a lot of books hasn’t it? He has a plate camera is it going to be published in
Vogue?
Part of the city’s Friday child loving Tuesday for that matter oh really St. Louis Encephalitis of birth and nickname that’s the only time 19 have died but the disease quickly spread. What in
Germany? He had been meaning Sexexcellency Sally Rand cunning Navy pilot Alan B. Weld two acts for three saints in outer space proudly registered in Phoenix was it are you sure that’s right infectious night biter Mo. 18 I’m going to answer the doorbell definitely definitely the first time in thirty years Houston’s outbreak the first time in who said Atlantic City? I was supposed to have done the sets for it and B. was supposed to acquire the virus from birds yeah then I think they paid a dollar for infectious disease processing the actual film but the disease quietly spread to all West Texas beauty unscheduled in outer space . . ‘You mean you did it yourself you didn’t have your assistant do it?’ . . ‘Nope just spreading epidemic of St Vacine maybe we should’ . . ‘How long did it take you to process this photo to squirt at anything that flew dyeing and all that it’s all part of the city’s sudden healthy people infectious beauty disease spreading epidemic of immune humans . . Half an hour? St. Louis Mo. giving hope you mean it’s not finished yet? This photo the stripper exuberance its going to fade away? You should have that have a page fading away Time September— (a number not clear)—It is a musical family . . parachute just in case . . I can now drink reservoirs of the disease is that a new play to get at the source spray everything? I heard Friday’s child loving a registered stripper nicknamed Conny oh are you going to remember this later that last of the last ditches like you came through the door in his moon suit maybe he’s there? Oh no . . It’s getting too spooky I’m getting the spinal cord and brain a male with female laughter they have this script he just dropped it like that they always start hissing it’s all part of the game of war infants
pay the price female laughter just came out of Time Starlet Weld Tuesday what? That’s beautiful that is fogged out in distance there should be somebody so called actually this is how the old saw ‘I think sex is healthy’ just two stoned Germans naturally did the same long shuffle . . That’s the clock if you set it two hours in advance the last of the last like we are in London a sentence words together in and out you know Manic Goddess 18 of 19 was done the painting was done never look at a model uninhibited disease by us astonishing we had done it without ever having a model starlet trapped in the sentence with full stop young painter are models myself look have you been there already?”

Leafing through the GOD files . . Ref. The Big Survey page 71: “Monday May 9” chills light fever . . my brain feels like all the connections are burnt out . . electric sex prickles . . The Garden of Delights kinda run down now charred wooden beams blue and pink tinsel dirty pictures flapping in the wind smell of coal gas . . heavy darkness of underexposed film has settled in that gloomy valley . . The body of a hanged man the rope around his neck is laying across the trap of a wooden gallows.. Carl standing there..

“You led me into this ambush?”

He laughed and threw himself back on a bunk tossing his legs in the air, “What and me so young and genial?” a male with female laughter.

I walked away from him in disgust. Two guards were there one named “Rose.” “Rose” was the more communicative and friendly and I asked him about the hanged man I had seen. He shrugged . . “Thought he would learn something . . his pants . . the plague.”

I had walked up a slight incline. The garden was built in a valley quite bare except for scrub and vines. The whole place presented the sordid and run-down appearance of an abandoned carnival.

“Who planned all this?” I asked

The other guard answered: “Maybe it was him,” pointing to Carl. “He will show you his country card in the end and the end is you hang on Tuesday.”

Furniture stacked up for storage or removal and I find an old Webley 455 revolver in a dusty desk drawer. Standing there with the gun in my hand and Carl laughed again. The first bullet smashed into a beam a quarter-inch from his neck. Wood splinters spattered the young cheek with red dots. He rubbed a hand across his face and looked at the blood. He stopped laughing and looked at me his mouth a little open. At the second shot a jet of black liquid from the gun hit him in the mouth. His face turned black and old and he sagged against the beam muttering: “sleeping pills.”

“genial”? hummm an odd word to use . . Ah here we are . . ref. East Beach File page 156: “This is a novel presented in a series of oblique references . . shave? . . did he? . . an amputation . . three young burglars one wearing a black overcoat stopped on the stairs by two English detectives . .
One of the thieves is nicknamed Genial
. .”

I put through a call to Scotland yard . . “Inspector Murdock please.”

“Who shall I say is calling sir?”

“Klinker.”

“Just ‘Klinker’ sir?”

“That’s all.”

“Oh hello Lee what can I do for you?”

“Anybody in your files nicknamed ‘Genial’?”

“Hold on I’ll check ...” I put in another six pence waiting. “Yes here we are . . name Terrence Weld . . age 20 . . 5 feet 11 inches . . ten stone . . hair sandy . . eyes green . . known M.P. . . arrested three times suspected of breaking and entering.. no convictions ...”

“How did he get that nickname?”

“smooth talker . . cool . . laughs a lot . . well genial on the surface at least.”

“I see . . anything else?”

“Well yes . . about two years ago a chap named Harrison John Harrison hanged himself in the barn of his country place near Sandhill . . Harrison was living with young Weld at the time . . Weld was picked up in Harrison’s car . . That’s how it came to our attention . . needless to say no charges ..”

“Needless to say . . Was Weld staying with Harrison in his country place at the time of Harrison’s death?”

“No he was in London.”

“Nothing to connect him with Harrison’s death?”

“Nothing whatever.”

“Anything unusual about Harrison’s suicide?”

“Well yes . . He’d rigged up a gallows with a drop . . must have taken half an hour to build.”

“Anything else?”

pause . . cough . . “The body was completely naked.”

“You’re sure he was alone at the time?”

“Quite sure . . It’s a small town . . easy to check.”

“And his clothes . . all in a heap?”

“Neatly folded.”

“And the tools he used?”

“Each tool returned to its place . . the barn was used as a workshop . . Carpentry was one of Harrison’s hobbies.”

“Did Harrison own a tape recorder?”

“How should I know? If you’re all that interested I can give you a number to call in the S.B.”

“Seems odd they should be interested in a routine suicide.”

“A lot of the things they do seem odd to the rest of us. I do know they spent some time on the case . . Ask for Extension 12 . . Mr Taylor.”

I could tell by the way he repeated the name Mr Taylor knew who I was

“Yes Mr Lee?”

“I’d like some information about a man named Harrison who killed himself two years ago . . country place near Sandhill..”

“I remember the case . . rather not talk over the phone . . Can you meet me this evening in the Chandoo Bar? around six?”

Mr Taylor was dressed in a light-blue suit the shoulders so broad as to give an impression of deformity . . little scar where a harelip had been corrected . . red face . . light-blue eyes. We found a quiet corner. Mr Taylor ordered a Scotch Old Fashioned.

“John Harrison was 28 at the time of his death . . He was fairly well off . . flat in Paddington . . country place . . interested in the occult . . wrote bad poetry . . . painted bad pictures . . good at carpentry though . . made his own furniture.”

“Did he own a tape recorder?”

“Yes he owned three tape recorders arranged with extension leads so he could play or record from one to the other. They were in the Paddington flat.”

“You heard his tapes?”

He drank half his drink. “Yes I heard his tapes and read his diary. He seems to have been obsessed with hanging . . the sexual aspects you understand.”

“That is not so unusual . . when you consider the extensions . .”

He finished his drink. “No it’s not so unusual and that is precisely what concerns this department.”

“Did you interview a young man named Terrence Weld in this connection?”

“Young ‘Genial’? Yes I interviewed that specimen.”

“He was genial?”

“Impeccably so. I considered him directly responsible for Harrison’s death. When I told him so he said

“‘What and me so young?’

“Exactly. And then he laughed.”

“Interesting sound.”

“Very.”

“You recorded it?”

“Of course.”

“Rather stupid on his part wouldn’t you say so?”

“Not stupid exactly. He simply doesn’t think the way we do. Perhaps he can’t help laughing like that even when it would seem to be very much to his disadvantage to do so.”

“I would suggest that ‘Genial’ is that laugh . . only existence ‘Genial’ has.”

“Infectious laughter what? Yes he’s a disease . . a virus.
There have been other cases. We try to keep it out of the papers.”

“And cases that no one hears about? Perhaps the operation has been brought to the point where actual hanging is no longer necessary . . death attributed to natural causes . . or the victim is taken over by the virus . . ‘Genial’ himself may well have been ‘hanged’.”

“I’d thought of that of course. What we are dealing with here is a biologic weapon used by what powers and for what precise purpose we don’t know yet.”

“Also an ideal weapon for individual assassinations. Any reason why anyone might have wanted Harrison out of the way?”

“None whatever. He simply was not important. I concluded that his death was purely experimental.”

“Was ‘Genial’ paid off?”

“It would seem so. He went to America shortly after I talked with him.”

“Still there?”

“No he’s back in London.”

“You’ve seen him?”

“Yes. He didn’t recognize me . . on junk and barbiturates . . looks ten years older . . down for the count I’d say . . But any one ‘Genial’ isn’t important plenty more where he came from: out of a tape recorder.”