Death Ray Butterfly

Chapter Twenty

The big question I had to answer was, should I try and chase after Jones, or should I give it up. Really, it boiled down to that. If I went after him, that would mean using the lighter, hoping that the next pre-set would take me to where he was. I had good reason to think it would. I believed he had programmed it that way, in which case I would always be at a disadvantage. I would be going there blind, and he would be there waiting, just as he knew where I'd be the last time I did it.

And yet, I still didn't quite believe. After all, I had clicked the thing and it seemed like nothing had happened. I remained at my house, I didn't feel a thing, and after awhile Jones had showed up, but that might have happened anyway, even if I hadn't touched the device. The peach-tie twins assured me I had crossed over, but why should I believe them any more than Jones? That bit about presidential elections was confusing. I did remember those, of course. They still had them when I was a kid, but things were much more orderly now the generals were in charge. There was no more gridlock, no more stalemate, no more political posturing, no more puny half measures. Things got done, and if we had initially complained about losing our "freedoms", we were reminded often enough that freedom wasn't free, in fact it was damned expensive, and we were all saving a whole lot of money this way.

So, maybe Jones did have some kind of magic trick he used to apparently vanish, and maybe he was just another psychotic serial killer, in which case I should try and track him down the normal, police procedural way. Legwork. Interviews. All that stuff. I ought to be getting off my fat ass and doing my job, but I remained, rooted to the spot. I had in fact already decided I would give it up. That's why I was even there at HQ and not at home, where the lighter was, where I would be tempted to click it, and keep on clicking it, as far as it went and until it ran out. I also had half a hope that by remaining in HQ I would be safe, not only from Jones, but from the repetitious twin officials as well. Where could be safer than national police headquarters downtown?

I couldn't stay in the break room. Too many people were coming by, giving me hangdog looks, reminding me that I hadn't solved everything yet. I went into my office and sagged down on the old maroon sofa in there. I kept the lights off and would have closed the door if they hadn't taken all the doors away for reasons of security. I slouched in attempt to be invisible but of course it didn't work. I was just too big and fat to hide. I stayed there all day, barely moving. Once or twice I got up and went back to the break room, grabbed some coffee and grub, and grunted my way through any attempts at conversation. By nightfall I was exhausted from doing so little. I kept an eye on the clock. That twenty-four hour deadline was approaching.

By "giving up" I knew I was tempting the fates. I was going to make those twins prove their assertions to me. If I was going to forfeit one of my souls, well, they'd damn well have to get to me first, if that's how it even worked. I have to admit, the whole idea was beyond my ability to grasp and I was content to leave it that way. When you can't even begin to think about something, it's better just to leave it alone. By my reckoning, I didn't have much time left when my visitors arrived.

I say it like that, pretty casually, "when my visitors arrived". Truth is, they scared the heck out of me. One moment I'm sitting there on my couch, staring out the window at the city lights below, and the next I hear a voice, two voices, and turn to see Racine and Arab "Cricket" Jones standing right in front of me.

“Evening, Inspector”, said Jones.

“Hi”, added Racine, with a little wave of her left hand. Her right hand was on the hilt of the sword she had buckled to her belt. Racine looked the same as I remembered her from long ago. I don't know how she could be that young. She was dressed the same, too, in her spiky black boots, denim mini-skirt and cobweb stockings, flannel shirt unbuttoned halfway down. Her cold black eyes were shining, even in the darkness of my office.