"Confused and embarrassed. He doesn't remember throwing me. I went into his mind and there's simply a blank spot during that period. Like he was blacked out."
Tachyon touched the purple skin above his eye and winced. `The timing for such an incident couldn't have been worse.
"Could we talk alone for a few minutes?" Jerry looked over at Blaise.
Blaise glanced hatefully at Jerry, then looked at Tachyon, who was pointing to the door. The younger Takisian stood his ground for a moment, then stalked out of the room.
Tachyon sighed. "Now, what is it you want to discuss?"
"What happened to Troll was no accident. He wasn't in his own body when it threw you. Somebody else was."
"You've heard the reports about people having their bodies switched with someone else? There was a bank robbery-"
"Yes," Tachyon interrupted. "We have a mother and daughter in our psychiatric ward who claim their minds were somehow switched by a third party. Do you believe that's what happened to Troll?"
"I know it," Jerry said. "And I think I know who's behind it, too."
"Who?" Tachyon snapped out of his exhausted state. "David Butler. He works at my brother's law firm, Latham, Strauss." Jerry leaned forward in his chair. "I've been tailing him off and on, and he was at the riot tonight with some of his friends."
Tachyon sighed and nodded. "A year ago I might have been tempted to intervene myself, but I've seen the folly of that. I think our best course is to turn Mr. Butler in to the authorities. You're not making any of this up?"
"Of course not," Jerry said. "I don't go around accusing people of being criminals unless I'm sure of it. My brothers a lawyer."
Tachyon pushed the intercom button on his phone. "Could you get me Lieutenant Maseryk?"
Jerry wasn't sure this was such a good idea, but Tachyon seemed sold on it. What kind of prison could hold David anyway?
Jerry was sitting on the couch outside his brother's office. Presumably, he was there to have lunch with Kenneth. But he was really there to see the look on David's face when the police came for him. He'd made Tachyon find out for him where and when the arrest would be made. It was a small price to pay for the information he'd provided. Seeing the young Adonis arrested would provide him with some much-needed satisfaction.
He was thumbing through a copy of Aces. There was a paragraph on him in the "Where Are They Now?" section. They'd also printed a picture of Jerry as the giant ape with the word "retired" underneath. Little did they know.
The doors opened and two detectives walked in. At least Jerry assumed that was who they were.
"Could you ask David Butler to come out and see us?" the older of the two asked while flashing a badge. "It's an official matter."
The secretary made a quick call and David appeared moments later. He stopped short and frowned when he saw the policemen, then recovered.
"David Butler?"
"Yes, how can I help you?"
"We'd like to ask you some questions." The policemen walked up to him. "If that's all right with you?"
"Certainly," David said stiffly. He turned to the secretary. "Tell Mr. Latham I may be out all afternoon."
"Of course," she said.
"Shall we go?" David asked.
The detectives stood on either side of David and walked him from the room.
Jerry sighed. He'd hoped that David would react a little more, not that he'd expected him to break down and confess. But a little whimpering would have been nice.
Hopefully, that would come later. Jerry was only sorry he wouldn't be there to see it.
He was asleep when the phone rang. Jerry picked it up and yawned into the receiver. "Sorry, hello."
"Jeremiah." It was Tachyon. His voice was somber."I 'm afraid I have some bad news."
Jerry sat up. "Not too bad, I hope. I'm not sure I'd be up for that."
"David has escaped."
"What?" Jerry yelled without meaning to. "How did it happen?"
"The police were interrogating him and getting nowhere, so they decided to call in a skimmer, someone who can pick up surface thoughts." Tachyon paused. "David panicked and switched bodies with one of the officers. He made the man knock out his partner, then returned to his own body. The officer blacked out from the shock. Then, apparently, David just walked out. No one has seen him since."
"Great, Doc." Jerry didn't want to sound angry, but he was. "Thanks for calling."
"I'm sorry, Jeremiah. I did what I thought was best."
"I know. Good-bye. " Jerry hung up and flipped through his Rolodex for Jay Ackroyd's number. Maybe Jay could get a lead. If not, it was out of Jerry's hands.
Jerry sat on the couch in his projection room, massaging his crotch. He'd watched the first half of Jokertown, but had stopped when Nicholson got his nose slit. It was just too damn depressing. He'd popped in a porn video, but it wasn't doing much for his morale, either. He had another porn movie, jokers and Blondes, but that might be a little weird for his taste.
He turned off the TV and sighed. He'd had a couple of shots of whiskey and his brain felt as soft as his penis was hard. He thought of Kenneth and Beth upstairs, probably fucking like weasels. "Enjoy yourselves. Don't think of poor, old Jerry. Have an orgasm for me."
He'd considered sneaking up to their bedroom door and listening on several occasions, but had never actually done it. Maybe tonight would be the night. He got his feet under him, wandered into the living room and up the stairs. He stopped at the top and steadied himself on the banister. Beth was probably a great fuck. It would be consistent with her character. She was great at everything else. He took a step toward their bedroom door.
No, he thought, you're not that far gone yet. It's none of your damn business. Shame on you.
Jerry turned and headed for the upstairs bathroom. He quickly stripped and turned on the shower. The water was cold, like the air outside, but it didn't seem to help.
Nowadays Clancy Can't Even Sing by Victor Milan
The tall man opened his mouth and said, "Beware. There is danger here."
Mark Meadows swayed like a radio mast in a high wind, sat down on the hood of a black stretch limo parked in front of the store to wait the dizziness out. It had been a woman's voice, tinted with Asian accent like ginger flakes.
The slim, blond twelve-year-old girl with him watched him closely, concerned but not afraid. She'd seen these spells before.
He looked up and down the block. Fitz-James O'Brien Street was about the same as always. This fringe of the Village had grown rougher the last few years. But so had the world. And people left him pretty much alone.
He had friends.
You guys are getting pretty restless, he thought. He felt furtive stirrings in the back of his brain, but no more words came unbidden.
Deciding her father was all right, the girl began to swing pendulumlike on her father's arm, chanting, "We're home, Daddy, we're home." Her voice was that of a four-year-old. The rest of her was twelve.
He gazed down at her. A rush of love suffused him like a hit of windowpane. He pulled her close, hugged her, and stood.
"Yeah, Sprout. Home." He opened the door beneath the smiling hand-painted sun and the legend COSMIC PUMPKIN-FOOD FOR BODY, MIND amp;
SPIRIT.
Inside was cool and almost dark. It used to be sunny in here on spring days like this, but that was when there was still plate glass in the windows instead of plywood sheets. The sound system was on, tuned by one of his clerks to one of those New Age easy-listening stations popular with people who spend their evenings watching Koyaanisqatsi on remote-programmable VCRs. A little thin for even Mark's blood, but at the moment better than the usual fare: Bonnie Raitt, something recent with a soft ska beat.
Good business for midafternoon, he thought, with the reflex twinge of guilt he got any time he had such commercial thoughts. A small guy with a fleshy, pointy nose and a silklike jacket with a strip-club logo on the back was haunting the glass-top counter that displayed the dope paraphernalia the Pumpkin was carrying until the inevitable Crusading DA finally got around to cracking down. He seemed to be thinking of hitting on one of Mark's stumpy, brush-cut clerks, who was sweeping the floor behind the deli counter with muttering bad grace and shooting him hate looks. She gave Mark one, too, when she noticed him. He was a man; this was all his fault.