by Tom Andry
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"What do you mean you're dropping the case?"
I was back in Doc Arts' lair. Assistant was no longer on the table but also not in sight. The little man with the little, red beard and little, mechanical eyes was more than a little red in the face.
"Listen Ignaro," I retorted, "I told you up front, when I'm satisfied that nothing is going on, I'm done. You promised to leave me and the cops alone. I held up my end, now you hold up yours."
"But, but," he was shaking, "I paid you for today!" he exclaimed as if he had just discovered some sort of glaring flaw with my plan. "You have to finish out today!"
"And I have every plan of doing just that. But tonight, if nothing happens, when nothing happens, I'm collecting all the trackers and it's over." I couldn't help but smile.
It was obvious that Medico had fully expected me to find something. I'd managed to stay around for a couple of weeks, which was more than enough time for something to happen. If it wasn't, he would have protested that fact by now. Instead, he was trying to reason with me.
"Wait... eh..." He looked around the room as if the answer were in one of the boxes or organ transport coolers that littered the room. "I'll pay you more!" he exclaimed. "Double!"
I shook my head. If I thought the money mattered...
I contemplated taking him up on his offer - or even asking for more. In his present state, he'd probably pay even if I did come up with a number high enough to hurt. I'd spent the better part of the last two weeks replaying our deal in my mind trying to figure out what I should have said. What other condition I could have added. But I had come up dry. He had to accept the fact that there was just nothing to this.
"Come on Medico. You're a scientist. You know that you can get a false positive. Observe enough phenomena and you'll see a pattern even if it doesn't exist." I reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, then thought better of it and drew my hand back through my hair instead, "You said yourself that a few you thought were missing had shown up. We gave it the ol' college try."
He paced and stammered for a few more minutes, talking to himself more than me. Finally, just when it seemed he had accepted, he turned and pointed at me, "Fine. You want to leave? Fine. But you follow me today. Not your lackeys, but you. You stay with me all day."
So much for feeling bad for the guy. The revulsion I normally felt when I was around Doc Arts returned in force. It was claustrophobic. I felt like the room was too small, the air too thin. I reached up to loosen the tie I didn't wear, "Okay... okay... fine. If that's what it takes. But you don't call me, you don't call the cops after today. When I leave, it's over. Agreed?"
He sighed, "Agreed."