“. . . genital excitation . . . mammary manipulation . . . vaginal penetration . . .”
“I think you want the Vice Squad,” Inspector Greeknik interrupted the race results to say.
“No I don’t! I want you!”
“Sorry. I can’t tie up this wire,” Inspector Greeknik explained. “The Morning Line from Havre de Grace is due any minute.”
“Listen to me, dammit! I’m talking to you from the headquarters of the Mafia gambling syndicate in downtown Seattle, and—”
“Oh; Is that you, Luigi? I didn’t recognize your voice. But you shouldn’t call me here. You know the heat’s on.”
“For Christ’s sake! They’re trying to kill us!”
“Besides, I don’t have time to talk now, fellah.”
“It’s a matter of life and death!”
“I’ll connect you with the Homicide Division, Luigi.”
Buzz. Buzz-zz. Buzz-zz-zz. Buzz-zz-zz-zz! BANG!
“Homicide Division. Detective Slaughter speaking.” BANG! BANG! “Please state whether this is a perpetrator or a victim speaking.” BANG! BANG! BANG!
“. . . stabbed me to the quick . . . in to the hilt . . . again and again, brutally . . . tearing my flesh . . . a giant dagger plunging deep inside me until I felt I was going to faint . . .”
“A victim. I see.” BANG! BANG!
“What’s that noise in the background?” I wondered.
“Target practice. We always start out the day that way in homicide. The boys stick a picture of Mayor Lindsay up on the wall and shoot away at it.” BANG! BANG! BANG! PING! “Dammit, Buckley, watch it! You just nicked my shield!”
“But Lindsay’s the mayor of New York,” I reminded Detective Slaughter. “That’s clear across the country from Seattle. Why him?”
“Word gets around. Next week we’re putting up a picture of Knapp and his commission. That should really inspire the boys.” BANG! BANG! BANG! “Lis- ten, I ain’t got time to chitchat. What’s your problem? You a murderer or a murderee?”
“Column B. The Mafia’s going to kill us.”
“How?” BANG! BANG! BANG!
“With a bomb.”
“Then you want the Emergency Bomb Squad. I’ll switch you.” BANG! BANG! PING! “Dammit, Rocky! . . .”
“Emergency Bomb Squad. Chief Chicken here.”
“I want to report a bomb.”
“Detonated or un?”
“It could go off any minute.”
“Un. . . . I see. Well, be sure to notify us as soon as it explodes.”
“Wait a minute! Can’t you do something before it explodes?”
“Sorry. That’s not our policy.”
“What do you mean? Why the hell not?”
“Listen,” Chief Chicken explained. “Do you know how much it costs the taxpayers to train a policeman? Not to mention the cost of special training for the Bomb Squad. It’s maybe a twenty-thousand-dollar investment. You think we’re going to jeopardize that investment letting one of our men fool around with some live bomb?”
“But what’s the Bomb Squad for?”
“Well, certainly not to risk our necks foolishly. Don’t you know there’s a shortage of qualified police officers today? Besides, I would never betray the trust my men have in me by ordering one of them to fool around with a live bomb. Those things are dangerous!”
“You’re telling me!”
“So just call back when the thing blows,” Chief Chicken told me.
“There won’t be enough left of me to call back.”
“Well, don’t fret. Somebody will call. They always do. ”
Some consolation! “It’s a helluva way to run a Bomb Squad!” I snarled.
“You got complaints? I’ll give you Sergeant Padd. He’ll tell you how to file with the Complaint Review Board. . . .”
“Sergeant Padd speaking. State your name, address, phone number, and . . .”
“It’s me again,” I interrupted him.
“Victor? Now, you listen to me! You got this whole department in an uproar! Red alerts bouncing around from Vice to Homicide to Gambling to Narcotics to—”
“Narcotics? Why Narcotics?”
“You’re a junkie, Victor!”
“I am not!” I protested. “I’m not a junkie!”
“We’ve had lots of experience around here, Victor. You think We don’t know a junkie when we see one?”
“But you haven’t seen me!” I reminded him.
“Hear one,” Sergeant Padd amended.
“It’s not true! I—”
“. . . thrill upon thrill upon thrill building ecstasy . . . my body on fire . . . mind-blowing, brain-fragmenting lust . . .”
“Not true, hey? And I suppose you didn’t turn on that girl with you! Go on! Deny it!”
“I don’t deny it. I confess! I’m a hophead and a pusher! You name it! I’m guilty! Come and arrest me!” I pleaded. “Please come and arrest me!”
“You’ll just have to wait your turn, Victor! You know how widespread the narcotics problem is in this city? You think you’re the only one? Well, you’re not! Just wait! We’ll get to you. Just Wait your turn!” And Sergeant Padd hung up!
We were right back where we started from! Any second now the phone might ring and blow us to smithereens. And I was so disgusted I was ready to give up and let it!
Not so Liberty Dix! Never say die! That was Liberty! “I’ve always wanted to rape a man . . . to tear off his clothes . . . to force his face between my legs . . . to feel his fear turn to hardness with the licking . . . to twist and pull and bend that hardness while my juices flowed over his slavering jaws. . . .”
Again? A stirring? A hardness? . . . Well, whaddaya know?
“. . . to whip his ass . . . lash his balls . . . beat his meat. . .”
Erect and quivering! . . . Hallelujah!
“. . . pulsing . . . throbbing . . . burning . . . quaking . . . exploding . . . coming . . . COMING . . . COMING!”
Up, up, and away! It sprang! for the pushbuttons! But--
It missed!
I couldn’t help it. The cannon fired! The discharge arched through the air and landed—Splat!—-on the entrance to Liberty’s honeybox. Thus our juices mingled. This time I’d really done it! Old Lucifer was a fallen angel! There was no chance he’d rise again before the telephone sounded the last trumpet!
I’d filled out our death certificate: Cause of Death — Premature Ejaculation.
Premature ejaculation!
What a way to go!
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Premature ejaculation,” Liberty realized. “What a way to come!”
“I’m sorry.” I mumbled the apology.
“The mark of the sexually immature male,” she clucked.
“It doesn’t happen very often. Honest,” I muttered, ashamed.
“Once is enough! Particularly this once! Just look at you!” Liberty was disgusted. “Now it’s really useless.’
I hung my head. . . . Both of them. . . .
“What do we do now?” Liberty sighed.
“We wait.”
“Wait for what? The phone to ring? The place to blow up around us?” Her beautiful black face was wreathed with fear.
As if in answer to her question, there was the sudden sharp sound of steel striking steel. Twice more, and then an ax blade appeared through the locked metal door facing us. It was withdrawn, the ax struck again, the lock collapsed, and the door sprang open.
Immediately the room filled with blue fuzz. From the center of it emerged a young man with long hair and very mod clothes. “Detective Snowpush of the Narcotics Division!” he announced himself. “This is a raid! Nobody leave the room!”
Nobody leave the room? “We’re chained hand and foot,” I pointed out.
“Cool! Very cool!” He wagged his finger under my nose. “But I know all the hypes.”
“I never thought I’d be so happy to see a narc I’d want to kiss him!” Liberty exulted.
“No payoffs, baby!” Detective Snowpush told her. “Now, where’d you stash the shit?”