Serpent's kiss

'The tower.'

'The tower?' Andy Todd looked at the other man as if he'd just suggested that George Bush owned a complete collection of Liberace records. 'The tower? Nobody goes into the tower. Not you; not me. Hell, I've never even seen Bellamy himself go into the tower.'

'It's a thought. It's the only likely place left.'

The tower. Jesus God. Hastings had been built in Victorian times, when the architecture ran to sprawling estate houses with turrets and spires and widow's walks. Off the east end of the building rose a four-storey tower that, so far as Andy Todd knew, had been shut down. The windows were boarded up, the elevator that led to it had long ago been closed, and the door to the interior stairs was bolted closed and padlocked with a Yale the size of a catcher's mitt. Among the staff there was, of course, great speculation about what had once been in the tower-there was even the kind of urban campfire talk that passed for ghost stories, tales of lights shining in the windows and horrifying screams being heard on the wind.

'No way he's in the tower,' Andy Todd said, polishing off his Clark bar.

'Then where the hell is he?' Ames said.

'By now he could be back in his room. Lemme check.'

Just as Todd got up to grab the receiver from the wall phone, the thing surprised him by ringing.

'Todd here.'

'Andy, this is Frank at the front gate.'

'Right, Frank. I know where you are. I assigned you there, remember?' Dvorak had an irritating way of belabouring the obvious and with one of Bellamy's prize fruitcakes strolling around somewhere, Andy Todd was in no mood. 'So what can I do for you?'

'Wondered if we could talk a little.'

Todd sighed. 'You still want May off for vacation?'

'This time it ain't about vacation.'

'I'm real busy, Frank. Could it wait till tomorrow?'

There was a pained pause. 'One of the patients got free, didn't he, Andy?'

'How'd you know about that?'

Another pained pause. 'Something kind of happened earlier tonight, Andy.'

'Oh, yeah?' Andy Todd was preparing himself to get violently, explosively angry, high blood pressure or no high blood pressure. 'Like what?'

'Well, maybe I saw something.'

'Such as?'

'This face.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah, Andy. I can tell you're gettin' pissed. I can feel it over the phone.' Right now Frank Dvorak sounded as if he were about six years old.

'You screwed up, didn't you, Frank?'

'I'm real sorry, Andy. I was arguin' with Heather and-'

'What happened, Frank? About this face you mentioned?'

Pause. 'I know you're gonna get even more pissed off when I tell you, Andy. I mean, I know how you are.'

Andy had to hold in the rage or Dvorak would take all night getting it out. 'Tell me, Frank. Tell me fast. That way maybe I won't get so pissed.'

'I saw somebody in the back of the laundry truck. You know what I'm saying, Andy? Like the patient hid in the laundry cart and stowed away inside the truck and rode right out to freedom. You know?'

'The laundry truck left here about six o'clock.'

'Yeah, 'bout six.'

'You waited three hours to call me?'

'I'm afraid I did, Andy.'

Andy Todd then gave himself permission to slip into warp drive. He called Frank Dvorak so many names so fast and so loud that neither man could be sure of what was being shouted. All both of them knew was that it was awful, awful stuff. And Andy knew it was not exactly what the doctor had in mind when he said Andy should take things easier and not get so excited.

Andy Todd hung up by slamming the receiver back onto the cradle three or four times and so hard the whole phone started to tear from the wall.

'He got out in the fucking laundry truck,' Todd said to Ames who was sitting there watching the show his boss was putting on. 'The fucking goddamn laundry truck.'

The time was 9:46 P.M.

1

The jock on KFAB had just pronounced it 10:07 A.M. — 'ready with more of the hits you want to hear'-when the man in the back seat of the Yellow cab realised that he had no idea who he was.

No idea whatsoever.

He leaned forward, trying not to show the least trace of panic, and said, 'Excuse me.'

'Yeah?' the cabbie said, his brown eyes suddenly filling the rear-view mirror.

And then the man realised: How can I say it?

Excuse me, sir, but I don't happen to remember my name. Do you happen to know who lam?

And realising this, all he could say, his voice nervous now, was, 'I was just wondering if you had the time.'

'Like the guy on the radio said, 10:07.'

'Oh. Right. Thanks.'

And slumped back into the seat that smelled vaguely of vomit and slightly more so of disinfectant.

This was impossible.

Impossible.

He was merely a man-a nice normal man-riding along in the back seat of a taxicab and he'd merely forgotten his name.

But only temporarily. The way you forgot who you were dialling sometimes. Or the date of your birthday.

Or-

'Here you go,' the cabbie said.

'Pardon me?'

'I said here you go.'

'Go?'

'This was the address you gave me.'

'It is?'

This time the cabbie turned around. He was this little guy in a blue Windbreaker and a white shirt. Shiny bald with freckles along the ridge of scalp bone. 'This is where you said you wanted to be left off.'

'Oh.'

The cabbie stared at him. 'You all right?'

'Yes. Sure.'

'Because you don't look too good.'

'I don't?'

'Kinda pale.'

'No, really, I-'

'Maybe you got a touch of the bug that's goin' around. My old lady's got it and-' The cabbie shook his head