by Nick Svolos
Dawson crossed his arms. “How ‘bout we skip the guessing games.”
“It was Shirley Richardson’s.”
The grumpy old detective had a puzzled look on his face before he caught the reference. “That was Jezebel’s alias, right?”
“One of many. The one she used in San Francisco.”
“Christ,” he grumbled. “That’s where she sicced that mob on you, right?”
I winced at the memory, feeling a psychosomatic twinge in my rib cage. The wounds have long since healed, but I still felt the pain from that beating when the weather was right. “Yeah.”
“So, what you’re sayin’ is, she’s behind all this?”
I shook my head. “Naw. She’s not above hiring a couple of goons to settle a score, but something like this is beyond her. She’s not the mastermind type. I’m thinking she and Backdraft were working for the same party.”
“So Schadenfreude’s behind this, then.”
“Unless Schadenfreude was working for someone else.”
“Conway, I’m startin’ ta get tired of tryin’ ta catch up to you. How ‘bout you just spill it?”
“Sorry, Captain.” I had to be careful here. I hadn’t told anyone about this, not even Helen, and I hated keeping secrets from her. This information came from the future—well, a possible one. One where the world was destroyed in 2029. It had taken some pretty serious sacrifices to prevent that timeline from coming into being, and saying the wrong thing could screw all that up again.
The future’s a touchy thing to mess with.
“Okay,” I said, coming to a decision. “There’s this thing. I don’t know if it’s a guy or an organization, but it goes by the name of Bedlam….”
***
The sun was just coming up as the Lompoc prison complex poked its grim head over the hills. Dawson and I had discussed my suspicions long into the evening and agreed a trip out here was necessary. If the answers we needed were anywhere, they would be here. I set out at oh-dark-thirty to beat the morning traffic. Despite the early rise, I was alert, running on a potent mixture of caffeine and terror.
The guard at the gate knew I was coming, but that didn’t stop him from going through the full security routine before waving me through to the processing station. After an hour of the customary indignities required to get into the place, I found the warden waiting for me with a two-guard escort.
“Thanks for getting me in on such short notice,” I said as we greeted each other.
He just nodded. “Captain Dawson said it was important.”
I fell into step as he led us through the labyrinth to an interview room.
“The prisoner is already inside. Is there anything else you need?” the warden asked.
“Uh, my questions might be of a sensitive nature. Are you recording this session?”
“All conversations are recorded, but I have trusted men in the booth.”
I supposed that would have to be good enough. I drew a breath, braced myself for what was coming, and walked through the door.
“Ach, Reuben, my boy,” a cheerful voice greeted me. It had a slight German accent. “Guten Morgen. How good to see you again.”
Dr. Schadenfreude sat in a chair on the other side of a concrete partition, smiling at me through a plexiglass window. Both sides of the room glowed in that orange light. Unnecessary for him, since the criminal genius wasn’t a super. No, I realized as my ribs began to ache, the containment field was meant for me. Maybe they were worried I’d lose my cool, smash through the wall and beat him to a pulp. Maybe they thought I might break him out and question him out of earshot. Didn’t matter. Either way, it wasn’t going to happen now.
“Likewise, Herr Doktor.” I smiled through the lie as I took the seat opposite him. “You look well.”
“Oh, I am quite comfortable, I assure you. I am finally catching up on some long-overdue reading. I find the peace and quiet most edifying.”
Lovely. Incarcerated, this guy had nothing better to do than increase his already mind-boggling arsenal of knowledge. He was becoming more dangerous than ever. I suppressed a shudder.
“So, you have come such a long way this morning.” He grinned in amusement. “What shall we talk about?”
“Bedlam.”
“A scene of uproar and confusion. Alternatively, an archaic term for a mental institution. Have you mislaid your dictionary and come all the way here to ask for a definition, young man?”
“It’s also a proper noun, doc.”
He smiled again, this time dripping with condescension. “Ah. Well, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do. They were funding you.”
Another smile. “I see you’ve been poking around. You should have a care, Mr. Conway. One fine day, things might poke back.”
“I’m sure they will. For now, I want to know who they are and what they want.”
He leaned back and crossed his legs. “Ah. ‘Want’. The human condition is one of want. We are always wanting something, ja?”
“You’re not trying to steer me off topic, are ya, doc?” I smiled to let him know it wouldn’t work.
“Of course not, my boy. I merely find the topic fascinating. Learn what a man wants and you learn how to control him. Bring him to heel. Such information has value.” He leaned forward. “Tell me, Reuben, what is it that you want?”
“I already told you.”
“Ah, yes—‘who they are and what they want.’ But that’s not what you really want. Those are mere stepping stones to your true goal. That’s what I would learn.”
“As you said, such information is valuable. Perhaps a trade?”
He slapped his knee in delight. “Just so! A bargain. You tell me what you want, and I will tell you what I know.”
“I want to stop them.”
“There. Now, was that so hard? Very well. I will keep my end of our bargain. Control. They want control.”
“Of what?”
“Ah, another bargain!” Schadenfreude was good at this. Everything was a chess game with him. I had to be careful. The kind of chess this guy played made use of dimensions most of us haven’t even heard of yet. “Why do you want to stop them?”
“I believe they pose a danger to the future.”
“How so?”
“That’s another bargain, Herr Doktor.” So far we’d just exchanged pawns. I wasn’t going to let him take the center squares so easily. “Finish your end of this one. What do they want to control?”
“Everything.” He spread his hands. “They want the world, its governments, its population and resources. Nothing is beyond their grasp, and nothing is beyond their desire.”
“That’s pretty audacious.”
“Indeed. ‘Audacity’ could well have been their name.”
“Who are they?”
He held up a finger. “Ah, I have met the terms of our agreement. If you want to know the ‘who’, you must first provide in kind. Tell me, Reuben, whom do you serve?”
Several possible answers crossed my mind. “My readers. My employer. The people I love. Myself. I guess it depends on the context.”
“Indeed. This is a most interesting question, is it not? One that we rarely, if ever, confront. But again, those are mere fragments of who you really serve. Reflections, but of what, I wonder.” His intense stare reached through the partition and grabbed me by the eyeballs. It felt like matching the gaze of a cobra. “One cannot serve two masters, Mr. Conway. Who is yours?”
I sat in silence and considered his question. This was a tough one, like running out of options on that proverbial chess board. I wasn’t sure I’d ever really thought about it. Certainly not while seated across from a man who scared the crap out of me. It took me a while, longer than I cared to admit. Schadenfreude sat, grinning and silent, giving me time to think.
“It’s not a ‘who’. More like a ‘what’,” I said at last. “The Truth.”
He applauded in delight. “Ach. At last we have it. T
he motivation behind the great newsman. So pure! So noble! The Truth.” He regained his composure. “Please forgive me. I am moved by your revelation. I fear my contribution to our exchange is beggared by yours. You see, I cannot give you any names, for even I do not know them. They are people of influence. They are everywhere, infiltrated into the worlds’ very structure. The so-called ‘Deep State’. The press. The entertainment industry. The criminal elite. Wherever there is power, you will find them, but you will never know it.”
“So, your truth is that you were a catspaw? A mere pawn in their game and you never even knew the players?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. “The great Dr. Schadenfreude, a man to be trifled with, after all.” I was hitting him where it hurt, my metaphorical knight moving to reveal my fianchettoed bishop. I had control of the center and I pressed in, playing on his ego. “You were a puppet while these people pulled the strings. You danced while someone else called the tune.”
He fixed me with a glare as my point found its mark. “Hardly. Just because I didn’t know their names, it doesn’t mean I didn’t use them for my own ends. I controlled the relationship.”
“I’m starting to wonder, doc. As you said, one cannot serve two masters. I’ve always thought yours was your intellect. It’s what gave you integrity. You’re a man of science—you prove everything. I don’t believe for a second you’d take their money without knowing who you were dealing with. I think you know something. You’re protecting someone. We had a bargain and now you want to renege.”
I expected Schadenfreude to fly into a rage, to blurt out a name to spite me, but he didn’t. With visible effort—his bald pate was almost red—he fought it back. I’d somehow blundered into putting his king in check, but he wasn’t ready to concede the game just yet. “I was approached by an intermediary. He offered the resources I needed for my work. I took them, of course, with the intention of learning more about them. My intent was to turn them to my own purposes.” His voice became dark. “You and your friends interrupted that.”
I didn’t let him off the ropes. He’d sacrificed a piece to buy time, but I took it and pressed the advantage. “Wish I could say I’m sorry about that, but I’m not. What was this intermediary’s name?”
“That man’s name is irrelevant. He’s dead now, but not by my hand. Of course, I tried to track him back to his employer, but they covered their trail far too well, even for me. I found only shadows. Which is precisely why I’m sharing this with you. I look forward to watching you flail hopelessly against the tide as it overwhelms you.” He was throwing away material now, desperate to escape the trap.
“Intriguing, but I still think you’re holding out on me. Tell me what you know, or can’t you live up to your end of the bargain?”
“Very well, I’ll give you one, since you insist on fighting shadows, but it won’t be a name. That would be too easy, an insult to your reporter’s skills. No, I’ll give you a hint instead.” He leaned forward. “Look within your own house.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You owe me an answer, and you give me a riddle?”
He sighed, giving me a disapproving look. “Must we play such games? The Angels. That’s the name. One of The Angels is not what they seem.”
“Come on, doc. They were all in on taking you down. This is ridiculous.”
“Is it?” There was bitterness in his voice. “Or could it be that Bedlam decided I’d served my purpose and cut their losses?”
“Seems odd. If these guys are what you say they are, resources aren’t an issue. You were damned close to succeeding. Why not roll the dice and see if you could pull it off?”
He waved me off, conceding the match and knocking over his king. Great. I’d hit his ego so hard it had gone numb. Just when I needed it to fuel a narcissistic, aren’t-you-impressed-by-what-I-know monologue.
“Bah. Such is the game of shadows. One never knows the true motives of the other players. Believe me or don’t, as you will. It matters not to me. I have my own games to play.”
“Alright, if that’s the way you want it. I just have one last question, and I’ll leave you to them. Call it compensation for not fully answering the last one. Why haven’t you exposed me?”
“Ah, I was wondering when you’d get to that.” He leaned forward, a menacing smile splitting his face. “What makes you think I haven’t?”
“Jezebel sent some goons after me. I figure if you were gonna tell anyone, it would be your daughter. But these guys were normals, so she doesn’t know.”
“I see. Geneva’s been misbehaving again. Rather unprofessional of her.”
“Yeah. She seems to be taking things personally.”
“I’ll have to have a talk with her. Rest assured, I’ll put a stop to that nonsense.”
“Gee, I appreciate that, doc.”
If he heard the sarcasm in my voice, he didn’t show it. “Don’t. You see, the reason I’m protecting your secret, my dear boy, is that nobody gets to kill you but me. Rest assured, when the end comes, it will be I who authors your destruction.”
***
It was still daytime when I got to my car. While the sky was sunny and clear, my thoughts were anything but. Downright dismal, in fact. I’d come here for answers and they’d left a bad taste in my ears.
I probably should have been happy to learn that Bedlam was real. Questions about this shadowy organization had been nagging at the corners of my mind since I first read about them in a newspaper report from an alternate future. A piece I would have written some twenty years from now, in a future that wasn’t going to happen anymore.
Doughboy and I had seen to that, hadn’t we?
Now I had to wonder if we’d missed something. We saved the world from one threat, but in doing so, we may have cleared the path for something else. Something along the lines of a world-spanning conspiracy bent on global domination.
I had to shake my head, trying to get some blood moving around. This time-travel stuff could make you crazy. What was worse, you couldn’t tell anyone about it. You might make them crazy, too.
Speaking of time, I had another appointment to keep. I checked my watch and cursed. I wasn’t going to make it. It was a shame Doughboy’s pocket watch stopped working. I could have used a little time travel right about then.
I pulled my phone—the new one I’d picked up to replace the hacked phone—and dialed Helen’s number.
“Hey, babe,” she answered. “What’s up?”
“Me. Up in Lompoc, still.”
“Lompoc? What, you taking a victory lap?”
“Hardly. Had to do some information gathering.”
“Leaning on the bad guys, huh? Sounds nefarious. Who was the lucky questionee?”
“Schadenfreude.”
“Oh, Lord.” Her voice became serious. “That can’t be good. Find out anything?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it over the phone.”
I could almost hear her nodding. “Smart. I take it you’re gonna miss date night.”
“I’m afraid so, honey. Sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it. Duty’s duty. Just tell me you love me.”
“I do. More than anything.”
“Then your debt to me is paid. Drive safe, hon.”
I assured her I would, even though I was already breaking every speed law in the country. Something about Lompoc always made me feel like I couldn’t get away from it fast enough. I forced myself to drop it down to eighty. The last thing I needed was to cap my day off with a speeding ticket. Yes, I knew eighty was still over the speed limit. The logic part of my brain was occupied with other matters.
At least I wouldn’t be entertaining any more of Jezebel’s goons for a while. Dr. S would see to that. He wanted me all to himself.
Always looking on the bright side. That’s me.
I drove on, letting the miles and road noise wash over me, clearing my thoughts. I didn’t even turn on the radio. Traffic started to build up on Highway 101 as I approached Sa
nta Barbara. My phone rang. It was Ratna.
“What’s up, my young apprentice?” I answered, forcing my voice to be more cheerful than I felt.
“Well, this trip was a bust.” She sounded frustrated, but there was something else. Fear? Worry? “Nobody in the Winters family had anything new to say. Maybe I shoulda brought you along, after all.”
“I doubt I’d have done much better. That’s a cold trail. You still in Tucson?”
“At the airport. My flight leaves in an hour. But I got a problem, boss—I think someone’s following me.”
I felt a chill creep through my bloodstream. “What?”
“Two guys. Suits. I’ve seen ‘em three times now.” She sounded on the verge of panic.
Crap. “Okay, stay calm. Describe ‘em to me.”
She did. The descriptions didn’t match any of the FBI guys I’d seen. “After the second time, I watched for them to come through security, but they didn’t. Now they’re in the terminal, waiting at the same gate I am.”
I knew where she was going with this. If these guys were legit, they’d have flashed their badges and bypassed the check. If they weren’t armed, they’d have just gone through the TSA screen like anyone else. They were armed and they weren’t cops.
I pulled off to the side of the highway. I needed to put together a plan on the fly, and I couldn’t afford any distractions.
I forced a calm into my voice that I didn’t feel. This could all be the product of an overactive imagination, but I didn’t want to take the chance it wasn’t.
“Got it. Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but just act natural. Stay in public places. Don’t use the ladies room unless you really have to. You don’t want to be any place where you’re alone. You got that?”
“Roger. Stay in public places. Don’t go to the bathroom. Damn, Reuben, I’m spooked. How am I gonna get out of this?”
“You’re doing fine. You’ve already spotted the tail, and that’s half the battle, so stay calm. If they’re planning something bad, it won’t be in the terminal. Watch where they sit when you get on the plane. If they don’t get on, it means they’ve got people waiting on this end. Where’d you park?”