Free Summer 2007 by Subterranean Press Page A

held up my
well-worn copy of the good book.
    “Really?”
    “Well, a minister,” I said. “The Right Reverend Doctor
Lucifer Jones. Same position, different league.”
    “If you’re a minister, what were you doing with
Conchita?” he asked me.
    “Showing her what sins to avoid if she wants to move to
the head of the line at the Pearly Gates.”
    “I think I may convert,” he said with a great big grin.
“Will you bless me, Father?”
    He still had the wrong religion, but I didn’t have no
time to argue.
    “Domino nabisco, my son,” I said. “Now help me find some
duds before them brothers of hers bust the building down.”
    Suddenly a trumpet blared and everyone began rushing to
the door.
    “I am sorry,” he said apologetically. “My group is
beginning our march through the city now. We must continue our discussion
later.” As he reached the door he turned and yelled back, “If I see Conchita,
I’ll give her your regards.”
    Then he was gone, and I was all alone in the building.
At least I thought I was when I heard a very cultured, very familiar voice say,
“I see Fate has brought us together once again, Doctor Jones.”
    I kept my eyes on the door, because I didn’t want to
turn around and find out for sure that the voice belonged to who I thunk it
belonged to.
    “Have you no word of greeting for an old friend?” it
said.
    “Show me an old friend and I’ll let you know,” I said.
    “But it’s me, Erich von Horst,” he said, walking into my
line of vision, looking as trim and elegant as ever, kind of like a headwaiter
without a hair out of place.
    “So it is,” I said, walking around him and heading to
the door. “And it’s sure been nice seeing you again, but I got urgent business
elsewhere.”
    “I overheard what you were saying,” he replied. “If you
go outside, you’ll run into the girl’s brothers.”
    “The worst they can do is bust my arms and legs and
maybe break my back and gouge out my eyeballs,” I said, still walking away from
him. “That makes it an easy choice.”
    He grabbed my arm. “I believe the heat has gotten to
you,” he said. “You really should start wearing a hat. You know what the
vertical rays of the sun do to Englishmen.”
    “I’m from Moline, Illinois.”
    “Same thing,” he said, kind of pulling me over to a
chair and sitting me down. “You look well, Doctor Jones. How has life been
treating you?”
    “Just fine until about two minutes ago,” I muttered.
    He threw back his head and laughed. “Good old Doctor
Jones!” he said. “Always Johnny on the spot with a witty remark.”
    “I hope you didn’t come here all the way from England
just to bamboozle me again,” I said. “Because if you did, I got to tell you on
the front end that I ain’t go no money.”
    “When did I ever try to relieve you of your money, my
good friend?” he asked innocently.
    “Tanganyika,” I said. “Morocco. Mozambique. Greece.
England.”
    “You may have emerged the poorer party, but you were not
the innocent one.”
    “We ain’t neither of us innocent of much,” I said
bitterly, “but every time we hook up I wind up un-innocent and broke and you
wind up un-innocent and rich.”
    “Then perhaps you’ll let me make it up to you,” said von
Horst.
    “I don’t want to hear this,” I said.
    “There are millions involved.”
    I got up. “I’m going out into the street and challenge
Conchita’s brothers. I’ll be safer.”
    “The Pebbles of God,” he said softly.
    I sat back down.
    He grinned. “I thought that would interest you.”
    “Only because I’m a religious man, and I won’t have you
robbing my Silent Partner.”
    “Oh?”
    “Well, not alone, anyway.”
    “What if I told you that I know who stole them?”
    “If I’d known you were in the country, I could have
given 500-to-1 odds that I knew too.”
    “So…are we partners?” said von Horst.
    “You already got ‘em,” I said suspiciously. “What do you
need a partner