The Tower

"That's right, you keen little copper. Was the corpse's head covered? Were the bodies posed? Were they… violated?" He paused for a moment, and Jade could hear him breathing. "I know the patterns so well I give them to you gift-wrapped. And you know the best part, Marlow? You still can't catch me."

Bluff called. They both knew Allander was right.

"I turned your prison inside out and killed everyone in it," he sneered.

"Not everyone."

"Oh yes. Mustn't forget Claudius."

Allander had lengthened Claude's name to Claudius. Jade caught the reference-Hamlet's uncle, who had murdered Hamlet's father and wed his mother. Another Oedipal figure, Hamlet's rival and the fulfiller of his desires.

"Well, before I go," Allander continued, "I was hoping you could allay my concerns about something."

A beat of silence.

"I was wondering why a grown man with no children would keep a picture of a retarded boy. Couldn't help noticing when I was in your bedroom. You know, Jade-it is all right that I call you Jade, isn't it?-I detect a similarity in the eyes. Between you and the retard, that is. It's amazing what one can find out with a little research."

Jade gripped the receiver so tightly that his entire hand was white. He was shaking all over.

"Just you push me, you fuck," he growled. Not the conventional way to keep a suspect talking, but he knew that Allander would time the call out at fifty-nine seconds anyway.

"Funny, Marlow," Allander replied. "That's precisely what I thought I was doing."

Jade heard him breathing on the other end of the line again, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Well, I had better let you get back to your case, hero. It seems you're a bit behind. But don't worry, I'm sure something will break soon."

"Only you, Atlasia. Only you."

Dial tone. Fifty-eight seconds.

Jade held the phone tightly to his ear even after the dial tone had faded to an automated recording. He rose from the couch and hurled the phone across the room. It smashed into a framed print, shattering the glass and bringing it crashing to the ground. The phone's cord snapped, its plastic plug still stuck in the jack.

Deep inhale. From the stomach to the rib cage to the chest. Exhale. Eyes closed. Jade imagined himself sprinting. Control, efficiency. He felt his shoulders loosen up. You never realize how tense you are until you relax, he thought. He walked his body slowly down a mental ladder, amazed at how many steps it took for his muscles to unclench. He was close to his end. The end of the fuse.

Allander had called him a "hero." The word rang through his head like a crash of cymbals. There are no fucking heroes, he thought. They're all dead and we've created playthings to fill the void.

The phone shrieked and Jade pivoted to his side, yanking his gun from the back of his pants and whipping it to aim at the door. His heart jerked in his chest. He couldn't remember ever feeling so jumpy.

On the second ring, he lowered his gun, walked over to the phone that lay among the broken shards of glass, and picked it up. Another ring as he realized he was holding the smashed receiver to an unconnected line. He shook his head and walked into the kitchen to pick up a functional phone.

"It's Darby. Bad time?"

Jade looked at the shattered picture frame and smashed phone lying at the base of the living room wall, and then at the gun that he was still gripping tightly. He let the gun clatter to the countertop. "You could say that."

"I was just calling to make sure you weren't wasting your energy and our time by sulking."

"What gave you that idea?"

Darby laughed. "I don't know. Motherly intuition. You can see how well it's served me in the past."

Jade wanted to say something reassuring, but couldn't find the words.

"We don't hold you responsible, you know. Just keep doing your job and we'll keep doing ours."

"I know," Jade said. "I am."

"Good."

"Get some sleep, huh?" Jade said.

"Oh sure. Then maybe we could play a few holes of golf in the morning."

"Good night, Darby."

He hung up and stared at the phone for a few moments before picking it up and ringing Tony.

"Hey. I need to talk to you."

"Fine. Beer. Pour Little Rich Kid. Twenty minutes."

The idea of going out caught Jade so totally off guard that he actually stopped to consider it. He hadn't realized how claustrophobic he'd felt the past few days, as if the sky were closing in on him.

He closed his eyes to think, and images pressed themselves into his mind-Orson Welles appearing out of darkness, Darby's swollen face, two graves with no grass grown over them yet, the stretch of a scarecrow's arms. A flicker of mania brushed against him, the edge of an obsession. He needed some distance. He was no good like this.

"All right," he said. He ran his fingers through his hair and then across the scar on his cheek.

Allander smiled when he heard the sound of the crashing phone echo down the line from Jade's house across the street. He lowered the cellular phone and slid it into his pocket.