Page 169 of Nearly Roadkill
Midnight. The building is quieter now.
Budge’s hands are tied. He has no authorization to move in. Poor slobs. Henderson doesn’t use kid gloves.
The phone rings.
“It’s Shel.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s about your being taken off this case.”
“Yeah?”
“I found a loophole.”
“Aw, Shel.”
“Get ready to be happy.”
END JABBA NARRATIVE ENTRY
16SIGNING OFF
PERSONAL LOG, JABBATHEHUT
I rather like my young friend’s habit of posting a thought for the day, though many were somewhat pedestrian. I shall continue the tradition, but from a somewhat loftier plane:
FUNNY OF THE DAY
Anyone who can be proved to be a seditious person is an outlaw before God and the emperor; and whoever is the first to put him to death does right and well…. Therefore let everyone who can, smite, slay and stab, secretly or openly, remembering that nothing can be more poisonous, hurtful, or devilish than a rebel.
—Martin Luther (1483–1546)
It is with great difficulty that I note that some Internet systems are actually closing down entire nodes, not to mention millions of people personally signing off altogether.
But, back to the cops chasing Thelma and Louise….
END JABBA PERSONAL LOG
NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT
A train is speeding northward along the Northeast Corridor. Wally Budge’s personal hacker, DevilsOwn, has intercepted an address in Manhattan where Scratch and Winc are headed this very minute. An office belonging to—Budge checks his notes again—a friend of Toobe’s, screen name Orlio.
Budge pauses, thinks. “Whoops, guess there’s no point sharing the address with Henderson, since he is working so very independently now.” This has given Budge no end of satisfaction and one of the biggest smiles of his career.
He has no choice but to capture his perps himself.
Lieutenant Budge is surprised to note that, even though it’s close to one in the morning, nearly every seat is taken. Talk is animated. Several boom boxes are tuned to public radio affiliates and AM talk shows, making conversation difficult.
“Isn’t radio use illegal on board a train?”
In the next seat, Shelly Dunlap turns to him and smiles.
“Not during a national emergency.”
“Oh, yeah.” He grins. “That.” He brings the portable radio closer to his ear, then goes back to his laptop to the email he’d downloaded before boarding.
To:Ms. Budge
