Pandemonia City

"Yes sir."

"This Wright woman's disappearance won't look too good for Johnnie if it becomes public. The papers will imply some sort of hanky-panky. The Hollywood people like a clean-cut wholesome image for their stars. You must find the hussy before the rumors start."

"Sir, you have a large organization. Don't you think one of your own--"

"Its important for Johnnie's career that I appear nowhere around this affair. You're already involved. Find the whore. A clever fellow like you shouldn't need more than a couple of days."

"Sir, I--"

"Two days, Mr. Titan. I'd advise not wasting time."

I'd been dismissed. I set the snifter down on a table and stood up, buttoning my jacket. I knew it wouldn't do any good to give Scaliari my standard I-don't-work-for-mobsters speech. Not only could he have my ticket jerked with one phone call, he could have me killed easier than stepping on a bug.

"I'll see what I can do, sir."

The old man nodded. "What more can be asked of a man?"

The servant appeared and showed me the way out. A goon returned my gun and the chauffer gave me a lift back to the office.

:.

Two days can be a long time if you're lost in the woods, or buried in a coal mine, or even waiting for owed money. Forty-eight hours can seem an eternity. But, its damn thin time to hang your life on.

There was one thing I was sure of, Tessa Wright was dead. And Scaliari knew it. He hadn't lit a fire under me to find the broad. What he really wanted was for me to ferret out her killer.

The question was why? Was he afraid Johnnie Romano had offed her? Did it have anything to do with Vinnie Falcone? Suddenly, there were hoods in my life everywhere I looked and no answers.

I did have one ace in the hole, but it wasn't one I was anxious to play, because I didn't like who I'd owe for the favor. But, I liked the idea of me wearing cement overshoes at the bottom of the Stygia River even less.

So, I made the call.

:.

The Iridescent Building was constructed in the previous decade during the boom times. It was an Art Deco masterpiece of steel, granite, and glass, its airship mooring spire thrusting toward the clouds. Not wishing to draw undue attention to my visiting the location, I left my machine at home. Instead, I took a cab to the building and made my way inside to the management office.

I told the male receptionist my name, informing him I had an appointment with the building manager. He took my card into an inner office then returned a few moments later and conducted me into the presence of a decidedly handsome young woman of mixed race features. She graced me with a glance of scorn and I returned the favor. In all the years I'd known the woman I can't remember a moment when I got along with Cissy Harlowe. The two of us seemed to take an instant dislike to each other from the first. The receptionist withdrew as Harlowe and I sneered at each other.

"So, what is it you want, Titan?"

"Gracious as always," I responded and sat, uninvited, in a chair before her desk. "I need information."

"Uh huh. And how do you propose paying for it?"

I saw a pen set on her desk's blotter and fought a momentary temptation to shove the expensive stylus up Harlowe's nose. "The information itself will be repayment to you, to the Noirati."

"You're speaking riddles, Titan. Just talk plain or get out."

I took a slip of paper from my jacket pocket and handed it across the desk to her. "I need the phone records of those names for the last six months. Particularly, I need to know which of them were talking to the others and how often." The list contained the names of Teresa Wright, Johnnie Romano, and Vinnie Sicily.

Harlowe looked at the list with suspicious eyes. "You could get that information from the phone company."

"I could, if I wanted to wait a month and pay out more bribes than I can afford. I'm kinda up against a deadline here, Cissy. I just told you the research will be mutually beneficial. Now, are you gonna help me or not?"

She sniffed, plainly not wanting to give me the time of day. But, she couldn't ignore the possibility of adding to the Noirati's database.

"Wait here. And don't touch anything." She left the office.

I knew where she was going, to the advanced Turing Device. It was a computing machine which occupied three stories of the skyscraper. The Noirati had stolen the technical plans of the mechanical thinker from Britain's Hyde Park research center and their scientists had refined the computer.

I occupied myself by perusing Harlowe's bookshelves, which were comprised of building commission reports and codes. Pure window dressing. After awhile, Harlowe returned with an accordion stack of printout an inch thick. She hesitated, just to be an asshole about it, before giving the stack to me with ill-grace.

I looked over the read-out. On the top page all the names of the caller/called in the printout were listed by alphabetical order. It contained a lot of wise guys. I flipped over the stack and read the last page, the summary. And then, just like that, it all made sense.

It all came down to Pius Domenici, Don Scaliari's chief under boss.

According to the summary, within the past few months there had been dozens of calls between Vinnie Sicily and Pius Domenici. Domenici being Scaliari's right hand man. There were also records of Domenici calling Tessa Wright and vice versa. And that explained the watch, maybe her disappearance as well. Domenici had been a very talkative fellow during the last few months, he'd been in touch with all the mob families of the City, in one fashion or another.

"So, that any help to you?"

I looked up, so absorbed in thought that I'd forgotten about Cissy Harlowe.

"Yes. And, I can return the favor for the info right now. Pius Domenici is the only common denominator. I'd guess Domenici intends taking over the old don's turf. He's talked to members of the other four families in the last few months. And he's apparently allied himself with the Vinnie Sicily crew."

I explained to her that I'd been hired to find Wright's watch, how the singer claimed to've found it by the next day and my meeting with Sicily.

"I suspect Vinnie's crew lifted the watch off some dowager outside the opera house, which is in Scaliari territory, a violation of the rules. At first I thought Wright was having an affair with Vinnie but it makes better sense that she was warming the sheets with Domenici. Vinnie most likely gave him the watch and he lays it on her. When she squawks about it being stolen he makes her say it was found so no one comes snooping around. Now, he's got her someplace cooling off. That or she kept squawking and he's shut her up permanently.

"And old man Scaliari must smell something on the wind. That would explain why he's hired me, an outsider to keep sniffing. He doesn't know who he can trust inside his organization so he gets me to bloodhound, scare the pheasants out of the brush."

"A potential mob war," Harlowe said, her brow furrowed in thought.

"Yeah."

"The question is, what should be done about it."

"What question? Scaliari's my client. I'm gonna tell him his number one boy is trying to muscle in on his action."

"No," Cissy said, "you're not. You wouldn't have this information if not for us. You're to wait until I contact Dad and see what he wants to do."

"Fuck that."

"Fuck you, Titan. You know what can happen if you try to cross us. And no matter what, one day, you and I'll settle things between us."

I pressed my lips together and glared at her. "Fine, come 'round whenever you're feeling particularly hormonal and we'll see what we can do. In the meanwhile, talk to your father. Tell him I said hello."

"I never have understood what Dad sees in you."

"I think he sympathizes with my vulnerable inner-child," I said, opening the office door. "I'll be expecting your call."

"You'll hear from me within two hours."

:.

As always, after dealing with the Noirati I felt the need for a strong drink.

I took a cab to Geary Street and walked down a few storefronts to the Golden Slipper Hotel Casino. In the hotel's Crystal Room, Chicago Redd, the comedian with the bluest act in show business, was up on the stage and in rare form.

"So, I'm on the subway train coming here to the club and this woman screams out after being groped. She turns to the guy and says, you can't touch me like that, you're not a priest."

Redd got a medium laugh from that, then he went in for the kill.

"Just to show you how out of hand things are with the Church these days," he said, "The other day I saw a sign on a priest's car reading, Jesus is my co-pilot and we've cruising for boy pussy."

The joint roared. While everyone was cracking up, cops rushed the stage from the wings. They'd obviously been waiting for just such a one-liner from Redd. They cuffed him and took him away. It wasn't the first time the comedian would be brought up on moral charges and most likely it wouldn't be the last. The audience booed the cops, but Redd was smiling as he was hustled off. The arrest would only enhance his reputation as the most edgey comedian around.

Ginning, I turned back to my drink and my thoughts. Then Miss Storm materialized at my shoulder.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"How'd you find me?"

"Your pal Thurman. I slipped him a fiver to tell me the places you hung out at."

"Hmm. Alright, you've spent time and money to track me down. What'd you want?"

"What're you, angry?"

"I've had a trying day at the office, dear."

"Okay. Well, I'm here to confess," she smiled and blushed. "I took the witch's watch. But, I didn't throw it down the sewer. I wrapped it up in wax paper with half a pickle in a bag from the deli and threw it in the trash."

I nodded. "I'll keep that close to the vest. Nobody really gives a damn about the watch anymore anyway."

"I'd appreciate that. There's another reason I wanted to find you," she said, coloring even deeper.

"Yeah?"

She leaned in close to my ear. "I need to talk to a man about a pool."

And the day suddenly got a little bit brighter.

:.

Claudia was the kind of doll who knew how to fall out of her clothes just right. I sat in a comfortable chair close to the edge of the pool, Moonlight Sonata playing on the phonograph and watched as she slowly peeled. It was a work of art, Gypsy Rose Lee could've taken lessons.

When the last of her clothes were pooled at her feet, she struck a pose with one hand on a hip and gave me a direct, brazen stare as she ran her thumb along her lower lip. A slender golden chain glittered around her neck, a small triskelion depended from the links resting between her moderate breasts. Her rose pink nipples visibly hardened. She approached my chair, one bare foot in front of the other, hips swaying. When she reached my feet, Claudia knelt and slowly spread her enticing thighs. The thick bush of her pubic hair shone like burnished copper. The scent of excited woman drifted potent up my nose.

I reached out, my fingers entangling her rich ginger hair before I closed my fist and pulled her to me. When I bent down and kissed her I felt the soft plushess of her lips beneath mine. On her tongue I could taste the trace of chocolate mint. I could smell her perfume and musk as my fingers held the voluminous wealth of her fiery hair. She pressed her demure body eagerly against me, surrendering.

The white mounds of Claudia's breasts squashed and bulged against my shirt as I forced a hard kiss on her, feeling her responding with equal passion. Without breaking the kiss, I slipped my hand from her hair, caught her under her arms and lifted her as I stood, her smooth legs wrapped around my waist as I carried her to the bedroom.

:.

An hour or so later, Claudia stirred from my embrace. She threw back the bed sheets. I watched her buttocks bunch and relax as she went padding across the bedroom the radio on a table in the corner. There was the hum of it warming up and a few seconds later I heard Lady Day's voice coming out all sexy and world-weary. Claudia returned to the bed, her fiery hair mussed around her face and shoulders, her breasts bouncing and sporting the red marks of my lips around her aureole. She slipped back under the covers and snuggled up against me, her lips playfully kissing my neck.

"You smell like sex," she laughed.

"Look who's talking," I smiled. Many attractive women, I have found, are mediocre in bed. They rest on their looks and never bother to develop physical skills. Claudia was exceptional, she was enthusiastic, playful, and loud. I rubbed a hand up and down her back as she kissed me along my jaw.

"So, were the Queen Bitch and Johnnie Romano ever an item?"

"No, not really," she replied, her fingers caressing my relaxed cock and sac. "Oh, they might've fucked once or twice, but in show business that's like shaking hands. They're just friends far as I know. It doesn't hurt a girl's career to be seen out in public with Johnnie Blue-eyes."

I didn't bother to ask her if she'd ever shaken hands with the crooner. A doll's past is exclusively her beeswax. Far as I'm concerned, curiosity of what had been stashed into Pandora's Box is what got us all into trouble in the first place.

The bedside phone rang. I picked up the handset. "Titan."

Cissy Harlowe spoke. "Go ahead and tell him." Then she hung up.

I called Scaliari's number and briefly explained the situation to Getti. He invited me over for a drink.

:.

Part 3

So, a couple of hours later and I was out of it.

After delivering the phone records to the Don I was square with Scaliari and square with the Noirati. Square all around. Getti had given me a couple of gees, so for once, I was ahead of the game. And, the cherry on top was that Claudia was waiting at home keeping the mattress warm.

When I entered the apartment, I saw the place was in shambles and the telephone was ringing.

I called out for Claudia, going fast from room to room, fearing the worse. The quick search proved the joint was empty. The phone continued to ring. I walked through the wreckage in the bedroom and picked up the phone receiver.

"Titan?" It was Vinnie Sicily.

"Yeah."

"The boys have all had a turn on the broad so far. Unless you want them to start in on sloppy seconds you better get your ass on over here with a quickness. Alone."

"I wanna speak to her."

"Sure."

"Theo?" Her voice was papery, weak.

"Its me doll."

"They hurt me."

"Its alright, baby. Hang on, I'm coming."

"'Kay."

Then Vinnie was back on the line. "You got one hour, hero. And, remember, come alone or the cunt's history"

"Yeah." I hung up.

:.

An hour can be a long time, if you're suffering in pain, or waiting on a bus, or romping about in bed with an energetic partner. But, its not much time on which to hang a life on.

After I hung up the receiver, I did what I always do in a tense situation. I made myself relax. Panic and anxiety melt away imagination and creativity from the mind like ice on a hot radiator. So, I sat on the bed, steeping my fingers and closing my eyes and calmly thought the problem through. Obviously, it was a trap. I had no doubt that it was for me that the thugs had come looking for. So, Vinnie had snatched Claudia instead, as the irresistible bait, and he knew I had to come save her. And, once I got there he'd kill us both.

Yet, despite the high stakes, it was nothing more than a puzzle to be solved. The goal was to remove Claudia from harm's way. It probably meant switching my life for hers, but it was a fair trade. If she hadn't been at my place she wouldn't've been grabbed in the first place. So I mulled over the problem for a good five minutes, figuring the angles. Then, I dialed a number.

"Bennie. Yeah, its me. Listen, I'm coming over to your garage in about ten minutes. I need to borrow one of your machines. No, one of the two-wheelers. Yeah. Thanks. Bye."

I left the apartment and went down the elevator to my office. Once there, I checked the Browning .45 automatic's ammo clip then slipped it into my shoulder holster along and slid a backup in my leg holster, putting a dozen 7-round clips into an ammo bag. But, man does not live by bullets alone.

I went to the portrait of President Douglass and swung it aside, revealing the office wall safe. Among the sundry and myriad items stashed away in there was some Nobel Gelignite, a putty explosive. There were six sticks wrapped in a rubber bag. I took out the bag and a handful of detonators, for good measure I grabbed the half dozen grenades I had on hand, just for the hell of it. A pound of prevention. I stuffed all of that into the old ammo bag I'd lugged across Europe during the Great War along with all the ammo clips I had laying around. Finally, I packed a flashlight.

Out of the closet I pulled a scuffed and scarred leather trench coat, also a relic from the war to end all wars, a riding helmet and gloves, along with a pair of goggles. Then it was time to go see a man about a motorcycle.

:.

There are two persistent urban legends about the sewers of Pandemonia. One is that there are huge albino alligators lurking down there in the bowels of the city. The other is that there are tribes of cannibals who've claimed the tunnels as their own and feast on anyone foolish enough to descend into their domain.

The story about the cannibals is bullshit. The story about the alligators is not.

I knew first-hand about the gators because years ago I'd chased the psychopathic killer, Marius the Slasher, down through the sewers. I'd had a close encounter with one of the reptiles during the chase and still sported the foot long scar from where it'd laid open my thigh with the whip of its tail. Fortunately, the shotgun I'd brought along to use on Marius worked just as well on hungry alligator.

After that little sojourn I'd promised myself I'd never go back down into the underground. But, using the sewers was the only hope I had of getting to Vinnie's warehouse undetected. So much for never saying never.

After blasting away the doors of the access ramp with some of the putty, I rode the motorcycle I'd borrowed from Bennie down into wide bore of the maintenance tunnel. The absolute darkness retreated reluctantly beyond the beam of the machine's headlight as I turned onto the left side walkway. The two-wheeler raced over the dank and molding concrete of the walkway, tunnel wall to the left, the sewer canal to the right. And the stink. How I could've forgotten the gagging rankness of the tunnels I don't know. Repression, no doubt. The melodious atmosphere made me wish for a gasmask but there was no turning back now.

There was a disturbing sick green bio-luminescent glow on the walls, which the chemical-hazard people said was non-toxic, which was probably a lie. But the truth didn't matter much. Years before the City had ceased to use the sewers as a conduit for drinking water, because of the El Supremo Incident.

The self-styled arch villain, El Supremo had treated to poison all the city's water if he wasn't given ten million dollars. The city-council called his bluff, and refused. But Supremo wasn't bluffing. Soon thereafter, he did indeed poison the water supply by air-dropping drums of radioactive sludge into the reservoir.

The valves were eventually turned off at the reservoir source and the City's entire water supply had to be brought in on tanker ships from the Guernsey River. The City had contracted for desalination plants, to render seawater potable, so the same thing couldn't happen again. Still, the sewers had been rendered hazardous for thousands of years. I didn't figure to be down in them long enough to catch a fatal dose. Or, so was my hope.

Up ahead the figure of a granddaddy of an albino gator resolved in the beam of the headlight. He lie on the scummed walkway, his pale eyes glowing in reflection of the bike's lamp. I was speeding along too fast to stop, the only option was jumping the reptile's pale form. I gritted my teeth and pulled up on the handle bar and flexed my legs, ass leaving the seat. The bike when airborne as the big monster turned his head and open his massive saw-tooth jaws to snap at me.