“You think if we find the Savant, it can help us?”
“If it wants to.”
“How can we make it want to?”
Cabal grins like a naughty little boy.
“Give it what it wants. What all the resurrected want.”
“You’re fucking joking.”
“I’m not telling you to gut some hapless soul. Go to an abattoir. Go to a boucher. Their desire is simply for fresh flesh. Human is the preferred fare, of course, but pig is close enough to man-flesh.”
“How do we find the Savant?” asks Brigitte.
“Call the number on the piece of paper I gave you.”
“You said that was Regina in Mumbai.”
“I lied.”
“Where is Regina?”
“Well, she’s certainly not chained up in my basement. That would be wrong of me. Still, Regina does tend to inspire the desire to lock her away somewhere deep and dark and full of more than an immoderate amount of spiders.”
I look at Brigitte. She shakes her head. I look back at Cabal.
“If you’re sending us into a trap, it’s not going to work. And even if it does work, just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I can’t get to you.”
“I’m exceedingly aware of your reputation, Sandman Slim. The phone number is true and leads to no trap that I know of. You’ll want to call soon. If anyone can point you to true north, it’s Johnny Thunders.”
“The singer?”
“No. The zombie, you dunce. Johnny Thunders is your Savant.”
He waves a tired hand in my direction. “Johnny’s minders will explain.”
If Cabal is lying, he deserves a teddy bear from the top shelf and the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes. I’ve heard world-class whoppers and told a few of my own, but this guy is spinning sable from shit.
Or he’s just let Brigitte and me in on one of the world’s weirder secrets. If he’s lying, it would be a fun excuse to come back and punch holes in Castle Grayskull. But if he’s telling the truth, it would make life a lot easier.
“One more thing,” says Cabal. “There’s someone else you might chat with concerning the resurrected. Rainier Geistwald, Jan and Koralin’s son. He’s a clever boy, and while a genuine brat, his brains are more acute than he cares to let on. He’ll be an important man one day.”
Cabal stands up. This time he doesn’t offer his hand.
“I could say it’s been enchanting, but I’ve already told you one lie today. I couldn’t bear it if you lost all faith in me. You know the way out. Feel free not to linger. Ta-ta.”
He turns and disappears through the Sun wheel curtain without looking back.
Brigitte asks, “Do you think he is sending us to people who will try to kill us?”
“I don’t know. What would be more fun for him? Killing us right away or watching us bump into things and skin our knees?”>“Once or twice. I won’t deny it.”
“When was the last time?”
“I can’t recall with any great clarity. One gets old. Many of the things that were so crystalline clear in one’s youth become misty and difficult to plumb from the depths in our later years. Though I work hard to keep up appearances, I’m afraid I’m not the man I once was.”
Brigitte says, “In my experience, that’s what men say when they’re exactly the man they used to be, but hope to deny it with age and excuse it with youth.”