He filled out a report. They promised him they’d check into it and
shook his hand. They asked whether he’d been drinking. He admitted
that he had. They asked to see some credentials proving he was a
biotechnician, but in the rush to get out of the lab, he’d left his
employee pass behind. Slowly, he began to realize that they would do
nothing. His claims were ludicrous. It sounded like something from
a bad science-fiction novel. His appearance was abysmal. And
between them, Gareth and Barth had more power than two people
who were not involved in politics could ever hope to amass. He was a
nobody who could prove nothing about nothing to nobody.
And so, with no with nowhere to go but down, he left the police
station and drove straight home where he knew a good bottle of
Johnny Walker would kiss him and make it all better. For a while
anyway.
When Victoria finished recanting the scientist’s confession, she felt
sad and disgusted. It was a horrible, shocking tale.
Despite this, Madame Jewel was grinning. Rather obscenely, she
thought.
“Dammit, woman. What are you so tickled about?” Victoria said.
“Oh nothing. You look tired, honey. Why don’t you take a little
nap. We’ll talk about everything when you’re refreshed.”
It was true. Telling Harvey’s story had used up all the energy she
had left. She nodded and slumped down into the overstuffed futon-
sofa.
“This is it,” declared Jewel to herself. She jumped to her feet and
ran outside of the trailer. After a moment she returned with Vlad. He
struggled to contain his glee so that he would not wake Victoria.
“Long live the Millennial Liberation Front! We’re in beeswax!” he
whispered savagely, and ran to the phone.
H O L Y S H I T !
46
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