"No, thank you, Hare," Baron said. "I believe we're all set."
"Best we be off then," Burke said. "Lot of work to be done."
"No rest for the wicked, eh?" Hare said.
Both men laughed at that, tipped their caps to Baron, and then turned and left.
When they were gone Baron said, "Two of our best Bonegetters. They have quite a knack for the work, don't they, Henry?"
"They're very reliable," Henry said noncommittally.
Baron clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. "Time to get to work then. Henry, if you'll help me get everything ready?"
"Of course," Henry said, sounding as if he'd just as soon have a hydrochloric acid enema. He lurched off to one of the work tables and began gathering surgical tools.
"Would you like me to step outside?" Devona asked Baron.
Baron answered while he donned a pair of black rubber gloves that looked as if they could use a good disinfecting, or better yet, a thorough going over with a blow torch.
"There's no need, Ms. Kanti. Since Mr. Richter's already dead, there's no risk of infection to him, and as he cannot experience physical pain, there's no need for anesthetics, so he'll be conscious and awake during the procedure. You're welcome to stay, as long as it's all right with you, Mr. Richter."
"Sure. Devona's seen me come apart before. She should get the chance to see me get put together for a change."
Devona smiled at me. "I'd hold your hand, but I know you can't feel it right now."
"Hold it anyway," I said. "For luck, if nothing else."
She nodded and took hold of one of my hands. Henry wheeled over a surgical cart containing a dozen different instruments that wouldn't have been out of place in Torquemada's playroom. One by one he held an instrument and the arms extending from the fleshy mass above me stretched down and grabbed hold of it.
I'd forgotten about the bizarre piece of fleshtech hanging down from the ceiling, but now I looked up at the hands gripping the surgical instruments and I saw that the mass was slowly descending toward me. When the hands were within reach of the table the mass stopped moving.
"Please tell me those things are just going to hold the instruments for you," I said to Baron.
He gave me a smile that did nothing at all to reassure me. "Don't worry. I'll be guiding them every step of the way."
And before I could say anything else Baron gave a command and one of the hands reached toward me.
The operation had begun.
At one point during the procedure Baron said, "Something just occurred to me, Mr. Richter. You're in a rather unique situation."
I tried to ignore the disembodied hands of the fleshtech device as they worked on restoring the connections between my brain and my central nervous system. "Considering that I'm a zombie having my head put back onto my body by the Frankenstein Monster, I'd say that was an understatement."
Baron chuckled. "Besides that, I mean. Tonight someone attacked you, cut off your head, stole your body, and later dumped it rather unceremoniously in the Sprawl. This puts you in a unique situation in that, since the beheading didn't kill you, you are in a sense able to investigate your own murder. How many private detectives can say the same?"
"I hadn't thought of it like that. I'll make sure to highlight it on my resume."
Baron was right about one thing. When the operation was finished my first order of business was to find out who'd done this to me and why. And once I did I intended to lay a serious hurt on them.
I gritted my teeth as the arms continued their work.
"Now stand on your right foot and touch your nose with your left index finger," Baron said.
"Is this really necessary?" I complained. "We've been at this for twenty minutes now. I've walked back and forth across the lab numerous times. I've clapped my hands and tapped my feet in various rhythms. I've written my name on a piece of paper a dozen times. If anything had gone wrong during the operation I think we'd know it by now."
Baron, Henry and Devona had been standing by the operating table watching me go through my paces ever since I'd climbed off the operating table and gotten dressed. And while I was happy to be in one undead piece again I was getting tired of being treated like a performing zombie monkey.
"Indulge me, please," Baron said. Despite my complaining the man didn't sound the least bit irritated. He had the calmest disposition of any monster I'd ever met.
I sighed, did as Baron asked, and promptly poked myself in the eye.
"I was afraid of that," Baron said. "The coordination is a bit off on your left side. If you'll just hop back onto the table, I'll take care of that."
The thought of lying on the operating table while those disembodied hands worked on me some more wasn't exactly appealing.
"I'm not sure that's necessary," I said. "In general, I'm more coordinated than I have been since I died. So I can't hop on one foot and touch my nose. It's not exactly a skill I use every day."
"Even so, Mr. Richter, it'll only take a few minor adjustments. I really-"
Henry interrupted. "The man seems satisfied enough, Victor. Remember, not everyone shares your drive for perfection."
"I suppose so," Baron agreed, but he didn't seem very happy about it.
"I think you should reconsider, Matt," Devona said. "Given the kind of work we – I mean you – do, you often end up in physical confrontations. The more coordinated your body is, the better."
"You're exaggerating," I said. "Yeah, I get in a fight every now and then, but I hardly think-"
The entire time we'd been in the lab the woman's head attached to the computer had been silent, but now she shouted, "Mr. Baron! An intruder has just forced his way through the main entrance! And he's heading this way – fast!"
"Alert security, Elsa," Baron said as he headed toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Henry said. "This is why you built a security force – to take care of problems like this."
Baron spun back around to face Henry and for the first time since we arrived I saw him lose his composure. "This is my home and I will not allow others to defend it for me!"
Baron whirled around and shoved his way through the lab doors.
Henry shook his head. "He's as stubborn as the night is long." He turned to us. "Stay here. You should be safe enough."
Moving with his spastic, lurching gait, Henry went after his master. When he was gone Devona looked at me.
"What were you saying about how rarely you get into fights?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Let's go."
I took her hand, grateful that I could at least once again feel the pressure of her grip, and we hurried after Baron and Henry.
• • •
We found them standing in the hallway near the entrance, the one where the paintings of Frankenstein's homeland were displayed. A trio of hulking monsters – one male, one female and one which could've been either or both – stood battling a shadowy figure in a top hat and cape. The bodies of several other monsters lay behind them in the hall, heads and limbs severed from torsos, blood splattered on the floor and walls. The dark man held black knives in each hand, the blades of which seemed formed from solid shadow. The surviving security monsters attempted to grab hold of him but he avoided their hands with almost casual ease, deftly slicing out with his blades, their edges passing through flesh and bone as if they were no more substantial than air. The monsters roared in fury as they lost hands and arms and the dark man's attacks increased in speed, until he became a shadowy blur impossible to track, and when he once more grew still, the last three monsters had joined the others as bloody piles of severed body parts scattered across the floor.
I remembered something Baron had said: "There's always a spare body or two lying around here". If I'd been a living man, I'd have tossed the contents of my stomach right then. I consoled myself by remembering where we were. If anyone could put all those poor Humpty Dumptys together again, it was Victor Baron.