MAXWELL› What line?
LILITH› You know. I’ve dated guys who’ve really been to the edge. Guys who could have killed every kid in that room and never given it another thought.
MAXWELL› You exaggerate, Lilith.
LILITH› No. There are men like that. I like men like that.
MAXWELL› Men who have killed?
LILITH› Not necessarily. But men who
MAXWELL› All men can kill, Lilith, if pushed far enough.
LILITH› I disagree. Physically, yes. But spiritually? No. Just as every man with a penis could technically have raped me that night, but mentally and spiritually some could not have. People are different.
MAXWELL› You are an interesting person.
LILITH› What would you have done if you’d walked into that room that night?
MAXWELL› I would have stopped it.
LILITH› You couldn’t have. My old boyfriend was there and he couldn’t. They beat him to a pulp.
MAXWELL› I am not your old boyfriend.
LILITH› How would you have stopped it?
MAXWELL› By deciding to. I am like John Galt. I can stop the motor of the world if I so choose.
LILITH› Who is John Galt?
Lenz must be reveling in the delicious irony of typing those words, that question, as though he had never heard of that literary character.
MAXWELL› A fictional hero in a magnificent but ultimately silly novel by Ayn Rand. The allusion seemed appropriate ten seconds ago.
LILITH› What are you really like, Maxwell? I want to know more about you. I’m curious.
MAXWELL› Curiosity kills cats.
“Here we go,” I say softly. “Here it comes.”
LILITH› Are you threatening me?
MAXWELL› Do you respond to threats?
LILITH› Not well. Why shouldn’t I be curious? You’ve been interrogating me as you please.
MAXWELL› What do you wish to know?
LILITH› How old are you?
MAXWELL› Forty-seven.
“Holy shit.” I glance right to make sure the printer is still recording every word. Is Brahma telling the truth? Turning toward the bed, I call, “Miles, wake up!” Then I turn up the voices.
LILITH› That’s a good age.
MAXWELL› How so?
LILITH› Old enough to know what you’re doing, not too old to do it.
MAXWELL› To what are you referring?
LILITH› Whatever you like in life. Do you like your work?
MAXWELL› I focus more on my avocation.
LILITH› You have your own company or something?
MAXWELL› I own several companies, but they’re merely paperwork. What most people call careers, I call glorified secretarial work.
LILITH› Do I sense an attitude?
MAXWELL› I do not suffer fools gladly.
LILITH› So-what’s your real work?
MAXWELL› I’m in the medical field.
“Score one for Drewe,” Miles says from behind me.
“You were right,” I admit. “Lenz seems to be pulling it off. He’s damned good at it.”
“I thought he might be.”
LILITH› Are you a doctor?
MAXWELL› Please do not pry too much. We don’t know each other well enough.
LILITH› How much closer can we get? I’ve already told you my darkest secret.
MAXWELL› Really? There must be more in your past than a postadolescent gang rape, however tragic. A woman who will ask “Who’s next?” to drunken fraternity boys has more in her closet than that.
LILITH› I don’t care for your attitude.
MAXWELL› You can always log off.
“Do it,” I say sharply, though Lenz is a thousand miles away.
“Log off, asshole!” Miles spits at the monitor. But Lenz is greedy.
LILITH› Why do you want to bully me like that?
MAXWELL› I thought you didn’t put up with bullying anymore.
LILITH› I’m not made of stone.
“Inconsistent,” says Miles. “He’s losing it. Goddamn it, log off!”
LILITH› I haven’t let a man into my life for some time. But I had a new feeling tonight.
MAXWELL› I must go now. Perhaps we’ll speak again.
LILITH› How will I find you?
“Stop pushing!” I yell.
MAXWELL› I’ll find you. _Auf wiedersehen_.
“He knows,” says Miles, staring at the letters still glowing on the screen. “Lenz spooked him and he split.”
“Maybe not. A lot of exchanges get like that at the end. One person is always needier than the other.”
“Maxwell,” Miles murmurs. “Brahma’s playing games all over the place, man.”
“What do you mean?”
“The name. What’s the first ‘Maxwell’ that pops into your head?”
“Maxwell Smart?”
He shakes his head. “Think Beatles.
“
Miles begins to sing: “Joan was quizzical, studied pata-physical science in the home. Late nights all alone with her test tubes, oh-ohoh-oh….”
I follow with, “Maxwell Edison, majoring in medicine, calls her on the phone-”
“Whoa,” he cuts in. “Maxwell was a doctor.”
“And the chorus. Jesus.”
Together we chant the now chilling words: “Bang-bang Maxwell’s silver hammer came down upon her head. Bang-bang Maxwell’s silver hammer made sure that she was dead.”
We stare at each other in numb silence.
“That’s a big leap,” I tell him.
“Except that his other aliases were Shiva, Kali, Levon. Shiva is the Destroyer. Kali is a goddess of blood and death.”
“Levon wasn’t a killer.”
“He wasn’t exactly Santa Claus either: ‘He was born a pauper to a pawn on a Christmas Day when the
“This is creepy, Miles.”
