by John Vorhaus
And on.
And on.
Where a spiritual verse or two might have been appropriate, some “to everything there is a season” sort of riff, Vic seemed intent on reading the entire body of a strange testament that no one had ever heard before. As faux scriptures go it went well enough, but way too long, with labored accounts of wars, prophecies, and visitations from the Lord on High. And while it had a beautiful, lyrical quality to it, what it had to do with a wedding was anyone’s guess.
And, man, did it go on.
Radar and Allie didn’t seem to mind. They just stood there with their eyes on each other, blind to the rest of the world. But the guests grew restive, the hired ones because that was part of their script and the randomly invited ones because, really, how long does it take to beat a dead horse?
Sitting alone on the aisle, Sarah was suddenly aware that Adam would never give her a moment like this. He lacked both the imagination and the whimsy, and the thought made her sad—and miffed. Who was she to Adam, after all? She thought about Jessup’s confederacy with Ames. She wondered if Radar was right about that.
Was he right about the gun?
A tale emerged from Vic’s narrative: the saga of a Chosen people (or Afflicted, depending on how you looked at it) who took all the adversity their God could throw at them and used it to wise up. Who they were, exactly, remained unclear—some lost tribe from somewhere—but as the story unspooled, they seemed over time to become more collaborative, more productive, more accepting, more enlightened. Some would say more hip. Still, it was a dense text, and it made for the sort of soporific sermonizing that puts parishioners to sleep on Sundays.
At a certain point, Ames and Jessup exchanged looks. Jessup’s grimly set features made it clear that he regarded this delay as Adam’s fault. Adam just looked a little green around the gills. Although Jessup had been his partner and coequal at first, the past few weeks had brought out his bully side. And that Custer getup—a little too militaristic for Adam’s taste.
It was during a seemingly endless list of bogus begats that Kadyn started squirming in her seat. Genealogies never make for gripping prose to begin with, but she seemed to find this passage particularly infuriating, as if it were specifically delivered for her benefit or at her expense. She fidgeted, looking pissed, aggressively eyeballing Mirplo, trying by sheer force of will to shut him the hell up. At last she couldn’t stand it anymore. She jumped to her feet and clumped in her sensible shoes down the aisle to the arbor, where she stood, truculent, with her hands on her hips. When this brought no reaction, she waved her hand in front of Vic’s face, but he looked through her like a pane of cellophane and just kept droning on. She punched his shoulder. Nothing. Flicked his nose with her finger. Still nothing. At last, exasperated beyond patience, Kadyn said, “That’ll do, Vic. We get the joke already. Religions are funny, ha-ha.”
But Vic stayed right on his text. “…and Jasper begat Malachite and Malachite begat Larimar.…”
“Enough with the names, Vic!” said Kadyn. “Enough with the fricking Book of Mirplo! Just knock it off already, huh?”
“…and Mica begat Ruby and Ruby begat Jade.…”
Kadyn pushed her glasses up her nose. “Vic, we were never going to happen. I told you that but you didn’t believe me.” Her glasses slipped down. She pushed them up again. “We are not a thing. I don’t love you. I don’t even like you a lot. I only told you I did to keep you from freaking out completely, but we can all see that that didn’t work.”
“…and Gypsum begat Feldspar and Feldspar begat—”
“Vic, basta! This crypto-churchy bullshit is not going to change anything. So stop being a total douche and finish the wedding.” Kadyn’s glasses slipped down again. They wouldn’t stay. “Ooh,” she said, grabbing them off her face and hurling them away in frustration. “Last chance, Vic.”
“And lo was born to Onyx and Umber the child Obsidian, also known as Snowflake.”
Kadyn snarled, backed off three steps, bent at the waist, rushed Vic, and head-butted him in the gut. He went down and Kadyn jumped on top of him, straddling him and pummeling him with both fists. His tried to block her blows with his tablet, but she grabbed it and beat him with it till it broke. Enraged, he flipped her over, pinned her down… and kissed her hard. “That’s sexual assault,” she snarled. He kissed her again and her neck veins stood out as she suddenly strained to kiss him back.
This brought Jessup to his feet. “Get off of her!” the big man shouted. He ran up, pulled Vic from Kadyn and roughly tossed him aside.
Ames closed in as well, with his sidewheels right behind. Sarah edged closer, captivated by the tumult—during which tumult Allie slipped away, which is just the sort of thing a tumult is good for.
Mirplo got to his feet, straightening his dhoti and his chains and affecting a look of bruised dignity. Kadyn slumped into a wicker chair, panting, coming down off the surge of her fury. Jessup fronted Radar, his jaw clenched. “You don’t think I know what this is? This is bullshit, this is a stall. And now it’s over.”
“We haven’t finished the ceremony.”
“Finish it later! Right now, we’re goin’ someplace quiet and talk money.”
“Or what?” asked Radar, “You’ll sic Adam’s monkey men on me? Careful, I’ll sic Kadyn on them.” This elicited a wry, knowing smile from Jessup, which prompted Radar to say, “Oh, shit.”
“What?” asked Sarah. “Radar, what?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Radar, downcast, “just your garden-variety double-cross.”
“That’s right,” drawled Jessup. “Y’all thought you were puttin’ Kadyn with me.” He offered her his hand. She got to her feet and took a place by his side. “I saw it comin’ a mile away, didn’t I, darling? Offered her a better deal.” Kadyn said nothing. Mirplo just looked gutshot. Jessup said to Radar, “But none of that matters now. Now we wrap up this ol’ business once and for all.”
“No,” said Radar defiantly. “I’m walking away. Come on, Vic.”
Jessup unholstered his gun.
“For the love of God!” shouted Sarah. “Don’t shoot!” Jessup and Ames turned briefly to the sound of Sarah’s hysteria, and when they looked back, Radar and Vic were running off through the hologram woods.
“What’s the matter with you?” Ames yelled at Sarah.
“He could hurt someone. That’s a real gun.”
Ames gave her a dark glower, then chased after Radar and Vic, followed by Jessup and the sidewheels. After a moment, Sarah shrugged and went after them, her cedar chest tucked under her arm like a football.
All this time, Wellinov remained in his seat, unmoving and unmoved. Kadyn came over and sat down beside him. “Looks like they left us alone, Gramps.”
“Do not dare to call me Gramps,” he said jovially. But the lightness of his tone belied his inner disquiet.
Woody hoped his son would be all right.
Radar Fucking Hoverlander
The party was pulsing now, filled to fire-code trespass and fused by lights and trance music into a single, writhing, organic mass. It wasn’t a hard crowd to get lost in, and Radar and Vic proceeded to do exactly this. They ducked into the Betamax Viewing Room and Eight-Track Tape Exchange and paused there to catch their breath. “You all right?” Radar asked. “Heart in one piece?”
“Just wish she’d picked up the pace some. I was running out of improv.”
“Improv? You made all that up?”
“The whole thing. On the spot.”
“Jeez, Vic.”
“Don’t worry, I taped it. Might be good for something someday. Now that I’ve finished my book.”
“You finished your book?”
“Oh, yeah. Sent it to the publisher today.” Off Radar’s amazed look, Vic just spread his palms and said, “What? I had some free time.”
Radar shook his head. “The Amazing Dr. Mirplo.”
“Ever and always.”
“Come on, let’s go get found before their
ire cools.”
They moved to an open spot near the Midway and loitered there, looking as much like scared rabbits as two talented grifters intent on looking like scared rabbits can look. It wasn’t long before they spotted Ames, Jessup, and the sidewheels moving through the crowd, scanning for them. Jessup wore an expression of implacable fury; Ames seemed to be almost twitching with anxiety.
“He’s ticking,” said Vic.
“Let’s make him go boom.”
With that, the two of them suddenly and provocatively panicked and took off running. Of course the motion caught Adam’s eye. He and the others gave chase.
“So predictable,” said Radar as they ran.
“Candles from babies,” agreed Vic.
Vic and Radar raced past an installation called Tulpenwoede, a living model of the tulip mania of the Dutch Golden Age, where tonight hundreds of would-be tulip kings would ride its speculative bubble to riches or ruin. They ran on, past the Olestra and New Coke tasting party and the box wine bar. Outside the I’m OK, You’re OK Corral, they almost trampled a pair of Siamese Trumps, and that’s when Radar very convincingly tripped and went down. Vic looked back, and then he stumbled, too. By the time they righted themselves, Jessup and Ames were upon them, along with the sidewheels, who grabbed them and manhandled them out through a service door leading to the back of the house.
The sidewheels pushed Radar and Vic up against a wall. Jessup brought himself close, staring them down. His face was red and puffy from the effort of chasing them. Ames stood by, just watching, his control of the moment overwhelmed by the juggernaut of Jessup’s rage. “Can we assume,” growled Jessup, “that I am of serious intent? Can we assume that I’m the sort of man who will do what must be done?”
Radar said nothing. Vic squeaked, “We can.”
“Okay, then. So now it’s just a question of how hurt you want to be, and that’s on a scale of none to all. Adam saw your money. He says there’s a hundred grand, and that’ll do me fine for a clusterfuck like this. So let’s take a walk.”
They took it: a short walk back to meeting room 23, where Vic pulled out his card key, opened the door, and did his level best to look shocked and amazed at the discovery that his cargo bag was gone.
“Wha—?” he said.
“Where’s the money?” demanded Ames. “The vests. Where are they?”
“Well, gone,” said Mirplo sadly, and with finality. “Gone with the wind.”
“Or more precisely,” added Radar, “with Wellinov.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jessup.
“Vic gave him a card key.”
“He’s old,” explained Vic. “He needed a place to chill. How was I to know he’d go walkabout?”
“How do we know this wasn’t your plan all along?” asked Ames.
Jessup turned to his partner and asked in a cold voice, “And how do I know you ain’t in on it?”
“What? Cal, no, that’s ridiculous.”
Jessup glared at Ames, and Radar saw the smaller man wilt under the Texan’s threatening gaze. They saw Jessup’s fist go up.
Just then Kadyn walked in. “Ease up, cowboy,” she told Cal. “The money ain’t gone far.” She opened her library book and pulled out her Serengeti. “And who says I can’t track it?”
“You GPSed his vest?” asked Radar, seemingly incredulous.
Kadyn hooked her arm in Jessup’s. “All part of the service.”
Jessup looked pleased. “Ain’t she a pip?” He said to Kadyn, “Lead on, little gal.” As Kadyn led the little group down the hall to the elevators, Jessup asked her, “How did you know the old guy took the money?”
“Oh, I told him to,” she said brightly.
“What?” asked Ames, perplexed. “Why the hell would you do that?”
Jessup grabbed a fistful of Adam’s Joker coat. “Y’all don’t use that tone of voice, hear?” He released Ames and turned back to Kadyn. “Just the same, honey.…”
“The money was in their control.” She indicated Radar and Vic. “I thought it’d be better off in ours.”
Jessup nodded. “Makes sense. You’re a smart young filly.”
“I am, ain’t I?”
“Modest, too. But full of good ideas.”
“Speaking of which,” she said, “here’s one you’re gonna love.” She leaned up to whisper in Jessup’s ear.
Jessup listened at length and then said, “Yep, indeed I do.” He turned to the sidewheels and said, “Come here you boys, I got a job for you.”
“Hey,” said Adam, “those are my guys.”
“And you don’t mind lendin’ ’em to me, do you?” Jessup’s tone dared Ames to cross him, and he backed down. Then Jessup said something to the men in a low voice. They nodded and briskly walked away.
Kadyn, meanwhile, had come to a halt in front of the service elevators. She was looking at her tablet with a perplexed expression. “I don’t get it,” she said. “According to the GPS, he should be right around here.” She contemplated the reading for another moment, then snapped her fingers. “Of course!” she said. “Right place, wrong height.” She summoned an elevator, and in a moment they were heading down to the bottom level of the underground parking garage. There they found a utility door propped open. It led to the convention center’s engineering space and physical plant. Kadyn glanced at her GPS and said without looking up, “He’s in there.”
“Well,” said Cal, “let’s go give ’im a howdy.”
They walked the length of an industrial space lined with repair bays and equipment rooms. At its dead end they found a small vestibule surrounded by chain-link cages in which thrummed giant air conditioning compressors. In the middle of the vestibule lay the cargo bag.
With Sarah kneeling beside it, rifling its contents.
She turned at the sound of their footsteps, stood, and said, “God, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then she held her nose and gave the cargo bag a big thumbs down. “That’s a waste. There’s no money in there.”
Said Adam, “But the vests—”
“Oh, the vests are packed with phony baloney. See for yourself.”
Adam dropped to his knees and inspected the pockets of both vests, finding nothing but a bounty of banking slips. “But I saw.…” He stopped. “Oh.” He looked at Radar. “You?”
“Us,” acknowledged Radar. “The ol’ switcheroo.”
“But how?”
“The eyes play tricks,” said Vic with a shrug. “So do reversible vests.”
Ames stood up. “Well, that’s that, Cal. There’s no money.”
“Is that right?” said Jessup. He pushed his cavalry hat back on his head, evidently not buying anything he was being sold. He asked Sarah, “Darlin’, how did you get down here?”
“Well, after you guys ditched me,” she said petulantly, “I wandered out. I thought maybe you were having another meeting in that meeting room. So I went looking. That’s when I saw what’s-his-name wheeling the bag down the hall. He went down in the elevator and came in here. I was chicken to go in after him, so I waited. After a minute he came out without the bag.”
“Where did he go?”
“How should I know? I didn’t follow him, duh. It looked like he stashed the cash in here so he could come back for it later.” She kicked the cargo bag. “But like I said, phony baloney. It was like a, what, a decoy like.”
“A GPS wild goose,” muttered Kadyn. “Okay, that’s one for you, old man.”
Ames picked up one of the vests and shook it at Radar. “Where is the money?”
“You mean the money we showed you twice and then romanced out the building?”
“That was a bad mistake,” said Ames. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh, here’s a thought,” said Radar calmly. “Why don’t we just say ‘good game’ and all go home? You tried to play us and it didn’t work out, so, ‘good game,’ all go home. Hell, I’ll even eat the cost of the shindig.”
Jessup said,
“Nah, buddy, I know horseshit when I smell it, and I’m smellin’ a powerful load of Flicka’s finest right now.” His eyes narrowed. He said to Radar, “I want the damn money.”
“Will you settle for sixty seconds of straight talk?”
Jessup considered this. Finally, he said, “No promises. Speak your peace.”
“Okay.” Radar sighed. “Here’s what I think. At some point in the past, Adam Ames somehow got on Allie’s and my trail. Maybe just Allie’s, maybe just mine, I don’t know, but whatever, he took it into his head to take us down. It wouldn’t be hard to figure we had cash. So he set up a Texas Twist, with a bogus allocation board as its centerpiece and you as his beard. Only problem is, Adam picked the wrong partner: a hard guy who’d insist on getting paid whether the play panned out or not. Then he was stuck, because you could squeeze him but he couldn’t squeeze me. So all he could do was roll through the Twist and hope for the best, but he’s not very good and he gummed it up. And now here we are, stuck in the fantasy world grifters live in, where a half-billion-dollar promise puts a few hundred grand in play. Only it’s not a few hundred, it’s only fifty.” Radar picked up one of the vests and idly peeled back the black sheath, showing the harlequin camouflage. “I made it look like twice as much, but that was just to get under Adam’s skin.” He looked at Ames. “Sorry, dude, I like getting under skin.” He turned back to Jessup. “The point is, are we going to fight over fifty grand? When we’ve already dropped the get from the lofty heights of half a billion? Could we be that desperate for a score? I’m not, but I didn’t know about you. So instead of fifty grand, I dialed it all the way down to zero. Wellinov’s gone. The money is gone. We’re sensible men, yeah? We don’t fight over zero.”