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THE CYCLE OF THE WOLF
CHAPTER 1: FROM THE JOURNAL OF RICHARD B. BERNSTEIN:
(SETTING: RBB'S apartment, in bachelorly disarray...)
RBB (VO): "I was rereading Sherlock Holmes after a particularly grueling session of grading papers from my summer course. I thought that it would help me to unwind better than re-reading The Federalist Papers for the 123rd time.
Holmes had just made his first deduction, when that tell-tale itching began at the back of my neck...someone was in the room with me!
RBB: All right, come out where I can see you...
WULFGAR010: Yer gettin' better at this, Sword-Brother ... (pause) how're ye holdin' up?
RBB (VO): Wulfgar, and it only a week after the slaughter at Rockefeller. I felt the same upwelling of grief that I had experienced at Namagomi-Chan's funeral, barely blunted.
I replied as evenly as could...
RBB: I've been better. (Pause) I expect that you aren't here to inquire tenderly after my health. You ALWAYS have an ulterior motive. Out with it.
RBB(VO): I could see that he was troubled, the swaggering, hairy-chested, cheerfully thuggish confidence that normally surrounded him like an invisible shield just wasn't there. Without so much as a "By-your-leave", he walked over to the VERY small liquor cabinet that I kept, pulled out a bottle of single-malt Scotch, poured a tumbler-full, and drank half in one gulp, then he plopped down onto my new couch, the Academia Special (tweed with leather patches on the arms and cushions).
RBB (sarcastically): Please, make yourself at home.
WULFGAR010 (distractedly): Zero has discovered something, Lad. He uncovered alaptop hidden in Nama-Chan's lab. Th' SAS yobboes didnae get to it. It contains most of her research notes, a diary, and...a hidden micro-burst transmitter.
Zero's nae 010, but he sussed out a few things:
First, it's ScotIntel technology, based on the designs of DrDan, the missing SI genius, and identical to some of the debris at the Kamchatka site.
However, the only branch of SI that was known to utilise it has been defunct for some time now.
Second, the transmitter was set to co-ordinates in New Brunswick, Canada, in an out-of-the way spot opposite an area of Northern Maine.
Third, the infernal device's internal transmitter-log indicated that its last transmission was shortly before Nama-Chan's lab was raided...it sent her co-ordinates to the SAS fookers...
Fourth, there-
RBB (VO): I cut him off-
RBB: Therefore, Namagomi's research, the disappearance of your 'sibs', the SAS raid, and a defunct branch of ScotIntel are linked -- probably joined at the hip.
You believe that the answers will be found somewhere in New Brunswick...and I imagine that you think you can avoid detection by sneaking through Stephen King Country. Does THAT sum it up?
RBB (VO): I was extremely pleased with myself until I realized how easily and unconsciously I had settled back into the role of detective...all TOO eagerly...
WULFGAR010: AYE, Sword-Brother; as I was sayin', the someone had scrawled in extremely bad handwriting on a sticky note-
..." Shields Brook"...
RBB: As in, the actress...Brooke Shields? What does a washed-up child-star have to do with with any of this? I thought that it was a long stretch that Mark Hamill was involved in the LAST case--and it was my LAST case--
WULFGAR010: WASHED-UP?!? What kin ye mean by THAT?!? BRENDA STARR was a tour-de-force, and SUDDENLY SUSAN is a joy to--
RBB: I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that.
WULFGAR010: But Lad, she may have some important information to impart-
RBB (abruptly): Oh, NO you DON'T. This is just another of your underhanded attempts to break my resolve about remaining in Academia, and giving up detective work.
Isn't it?
WULFGAR010: Richard, my sibs have been missing, and under bizarre circumstances, for TOO long now. The bastards who set up Nama-Chan may have had a hand in it. I have few allies inside ScoIntel anymore -
- I'm certain there's a "shoot on sight" order wi' my name on it. I need YOUR help, your brain. Zero's a gude lad, but YER analtical prowess outshines his.
RBB: Flattery and four bucks will get you an overpriced mochaccinno at a trendy Manhattan espresso bar. Try again.
WULFGAR010: DAMMIT, man, Nama was me friend, and YOUR LOVER...
RBB(blushes): I forgot you knew about that.
WULFGAR010: Well, I found you in her bed, didn't I? And she kept a diary on th' laptop. Zero sussed-out the passwords...interesting reading, that...do ye REALLY shout "Antidisestablishmentarianism" when ye-
RBB (in a cold, angry voice): You'll stop that line of questioning RIGHT THERE.
WULFGAR010: Sorry, Sword-Brother...tch, soometimes ye're nae fun...
RBB (thinly): Don't get me started on your idea of "fun." In any event, I am NOT going back into that world. With any luck, I can get my life back on track, and I can put behind me those bizarre complications that always impose themselves on my life when you come in the door.
WULFGAR010: But, lad, it's Nama's KILLERS-
RBB (abruptly): No, they're *dead*. You and the others saw to that-
WULFGAR010 (angrily): GODDAMMT, Bernstein, these were just th' fookin' button-men!! Someone ELSE pulled th' strings-
RBB: Whom do you think it was? HairHead?
RBB (VO): I knew better. I'd spoken with HairHead just after Namagomi-chan's death, and he was just as grief-stricken and bitter about it as I was.
WULFGAR010: NO! THAT twisted SHITE, whate'er ELSE he was up to, NEEDED Nama and her experiments for his fookin' games!
RBB (VO): The poor bastard had really lost it. He punctuated his outburst by bringing his fist down on the oak coffee table between us, and he was so overwrought that it shattered. I almost expected to hear bones break from the blow...
RBB: Are you about done? Or would you like to bust up the bookcases for an after-dinner snack?
WULFGAR010: Lad, I-
RBB (returning to the cold, even tone of absolute fury): Get this through your thick skull;
I-AM-DONE-WITH-THAT- LIFE! I have *finally* found some measure of peace, and I *intend* to HANG ONTO IT! Now, GET OUT.
WULFGAR010: Richard-
RBB: Get OUT of my home, and STAY out.
RBB (VO): I saw him stiffen, then his shoulders slumped, the way that a big man's do when he's been defeated, when he's lost inside himself.
It was the look of an aging prizefighter whose spirit has been crushed by the youngblood in the opposite corner.
He put down the half-empty tumbler, and silently turned to the door, and, without a look backward, went out into the humid New York summer night.
I almost wished that I could take back some of what I'd said...
If I could've seen the future...
To be continued...
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