"No! Guns frighten me, Henderson. I'd never-"
"You came here wanting my help. That's what I'm giving you, best I can. If you feel like you're under threat, I'd advise you to buy a gun, and carry it. The only thing to be afraid of with firearms is having the wrong end of one pointing at you. Better that you have a say in that, if it ever comes down to it."
I felt a clot of phlegm lodge in my throat. It wasn't the thing I wanted to hear him say at that moment.
Henderson lowered his feet from the desk and rose from his chair. "Look, Pete, you of all people ought to know how things work around here. Do you actually think we're gonna give priority to some dead hoodlum that nobody gives a shit about, when there are a hundred other unsolved murder cases more pressing? Personally, I couldn't care less about Manny's physical sins-or, as you claim, the strange lack of same. Nor what happened to them, if in fact they got plucked. Manny ended up right where he deserved to be. Regardless, there's one big problem with his case: You won't reveal the names of your sin-seer buddies for us to check out. You told me that none of them were murderers. Forgive me, but I happen to hold the opposite view."
My head spun. He was right, of course. I knew the name of every sin-seer in North America. At least one of them was a murderer. And evidence indicated that I might be the next victim. But I'd taken a solemn Guild vow. Breaking it would destroy me, just as sure as having my throat slit.
"I . . . I just can't do that. I wish I could, but I can't. I'm sorry."
"Fine, that's your right under the law. But it seems to me you're making things more complicated for yourself, Pete. We can't help you if you don't help us." He paused, looked down at the floor, then said, "There's one other thing I ought to mention to you."
"Another thing?"
Henderson moved to the front of his desk, crossed his arms and leaned back against it. "The Commissioner's been reassessing our consulting contracts. Budget crunch time, that sort of thing. I hate to have to tell you this, but he's teetering on the edge of canceling yours. Not enough bang for the buck, he says. You know how it is: 'What have you done for us lately?' Sorry, but . . . there it is."
All the blood seemed to drain from my head at that moment, leaving me dizzy. "But, but-what about the Strauss case, just a few months ago? You told me yourself that the sin of incest I recovered was helpful in cracking it!"
Henderson shrugged his shoulders in that aggravating, condescending way he had. "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. The jury's still out on that one-literally. Who can say what we would have uncovered with our own legwork? How about the other two hundred-and-some-odd cases you've been called in on, besides that one? I count maybe a couple of useful leads you've given us in all that while. At most."
"Heck, I know there were a few more than that, Henderson. What about-"
"Be honest about it, Pete. You've been sucking on the public tit for a long time, and you've done pretty well with it. The good times can't last forever. You know that."
Shit. This couldn't be happening to me. How else could I make a living? I had no formal education, no skills save one: seeing sins. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.
"Look," Henderson said, "I'll do what I can for you, but no promises." He walked to his office door and opened it, a less-than-subtle invitation for me to get out of his hair. "You have to understand, Pete. A lot of folks around here just don't appreciate your kind. To be more precise, you give 'em the creeps. Hell, you even give me the creeps sometimes. Best you go on home and play with your cootie collection, and let me handle things on this end, eh?"
****
There have been a few times in the past, always under severe emotional distress, when I've been tempted to extract my own sins-even though I know that would lead to an excruciating, painful death.
It was one of the first lessons Gerd had taught me, many years ago: sins are symbiotic to a human. We cannot live without them. If we are separated, the power of our mutual longing will inevitably lead to human dissolution. Even the excision of a single sin from a living person could result in madness. A few unpublished, illicit experiments conducted by the HCG in its early days had confirmed that. Gerd had once let me read some of those private accounts. They were horrifying.
Just as one could never undo a sin he'd committed, so too could that sin's physical manifestation never be removed from a living body without severe psychical repercussions.
I stood nude in front of my bathroom mirror, looking at the horde of sins infesting my own body, from bottom to top, writhing languidly like so many crystalline larvae, occasionally exchanging positions, always on the slow move. They formed a colorful secondary skin, unseen by all but a few.
It was easy to remain professionally detached when viewing the physical sins that rode upon others. But it was never easy for me to witness the evidence of my own wrong-doings, all my many prior sins of both thought and deed. How could I have accumulated so blasted many of them in the span of my short life? Hundreds and hundreds of them, infesting every square inch of my body-each one a reminder that I was nowhere near the person I wanted to be. Even more distressing was knowing that I'd carry them to my grave-and beyond.
It was not a pleasant concept to consider.
I watched as a new sin appeared in the center of my chest, right above my heart, gleaming with the spectral glory of fresh birth: family "hatred," genus "self-loathing." I didn't recognize the species and subspecies. I'd have to consult my HCG directory to nail them down.
****
"Gerd, I'm sorry for the intrusion," I said. "I think I'm in big trouble. I've got to speak with you, and it can't wait."
The old man ushered me into his foyer. "Forgive me, Peter," he said. "I have some guests in the library. Business matters. Please, would you mind waiting for me in the parlor? It should not take more than a few minutes for me to finish up. Pour yourself a drink in the meantime. I will be with you as soon as I can."
Gerd went back into the library. I heard a loud voice from within the room, muffled by the thick door: "But for Christ's sake, it's the Sin Of All Sins! And he has it! We know he does."
I crept closer to the door and put my ear against it.
Gerd's voice: "As I said before, he would have told me if he did. I am sure of that."
The first voice: "So you continue to claim."
Another voice, heavily accented: "The man conspires with the police. He is not to be trusted. Regardless of his prior relationship with you, Vanderhout, we have good reason to be suspicious."
First voice: "We know it's not in his apartment. If he does have it, it's hidden. We must find out where it is."
Gerd: "You are making a big mistake. Bigger than you know."
Accented voice: //laugh// "Really, Vanderhout! Is that intended as a threat? You cannot threaten us. You may have held power in the old days, but no longer. Now you're just a weak old man, a has-been."
I heard sounds of movement and took that opportunity to retreat to the parlor until the men left. When they did, a minute later, Gerd rejoined me. I could see the signs of emotional distress written on his drawn face.
"Sorry, Peter," he said. "Some unpleasant business, as it turned out-but no matter. What did you need to tell me?"
"Many things, Gerd. But now it seems more imperative to ask you to tell me things. I overheard some of the conversation from your library. It . . . seemed to cut close to home."