NORTH NORTH HOLLYWOOD - Chapter 42 - A novel by Peter Nolan Smith

FORTY-TWO

None of the other drivers glanced at the ubiquitous Lincoln TownCar heading east on Mullholland Drive, then again their only concerns were getting home, eating, watching TV, and going to sleep. Sean's life should only be so simple, but instead he was stuck in this final reel of a B-Movie, one out of which he should have walked out on long ago. It was too late for that now, so he looked out the window, resigned to whatever happened next.

Isaac Conti examined the younger man beside him. Judging from the bruises on his face, his time in LA had not been easy. "Tough town, LA?"

"Yeah, I found that out, but then most towns are tough, if you let them get to you." Sean put his hand to the window. It was getting dark outside and cold, but at least it.

Approaching the lights at Topanga Canyon, the big man behind the wheel asked, "Which way?"

"Down to the valley." Sean answered, then added, "Where else?"

The Lincoln turned left and Isaac Conti asked, "You getting nervous?"

"No, I'm getting used to this. Maybe a little too used to it."

"At least you're lucky."

"Ha, luck doesn’t come into play here."

"Not today maybe, but maybe in a month you might change your mind." Isaac pondered over the strangeness that the man who almost killed him in Las Vegas would have ended up with Sherri and Lena, but having lived seven decades Isaac Conti had come to understand that the impossible occurred, because the world was very, very small and life very long and no matter how long the odds are things happen, because they happen. He touched the young man's arm and said, “Don't be so tough on yourself. You're still with the living and there's a lot to be said for that."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sean replied, since he had lost count of how many he had almost died here.

"You mind, if I ask you a question."

"Sure, why not?" Sean squinted, as several BMWs with high intensity headlights hit their high beams.

"What are your plans once we free Sherri and Lena?'

The old man's question stumped Sean, then he closed his eyes for several seconds and saw exactly what he wanted from not so much all of his life, but for what remained.

"You might say I took the wrong path and stayed on it, till I discovered I was only headed to an early grave. You're right. I'm lucky to be alive and I don't want to find myself in situations like this anymore. I just want to be good."

The old man laughed dryly and said, "I wasn't looking for such a metaphysical answer."

"Then that's easy. I'm leaving LA and this time for good."

"Sometimes it's not as easy as it looks, but we'll worry about that later.” The old man settled into the seat and when they reached Ventura Boulevard, Sean said, "Head to the airport."

"Van Nuys?"

"Yeah, that's the one." Sean turned to the old man and said, "You know I never caught your name."

"I'm Isaac Conti. And you?"

"Sean Tempo." He had only given his real name, since the old man had done the same, but he wasn't surprised that Isaac didn't bother to introduce the driver, probably because the less he knew about him the better. As they neared the airport, Sean directed the silent driver to the dead-end street and pointed out a two-story building at its end. Only a single window was lit and Isaac asked, "Are you sure this is the place?"

"Yeah, there's Sherri's car in the parking lot."

The driver parked under a tree dripping water faster than the rain. Night had fallen completely now, which was probably for the better, though Sean would have preferred it to be daytime. That way he could have seen what he was up against, but the starless darkness didn't bother the two older men, who stepped out of the car like they had been living for just such a moment. After Isaac motioned for the driver to scope out the building, the black-clad man vanished into the shadows. Sean rubbed his face, until Isaac Conti took out a .22 revolver. "No one ever said anything about there being any gun play."

"No one asked?" It had been years, since Isaac used his weapon, but you didn’t forget how to shoot a gun juke like riding a bike. The old man held up the pistol and said, "This is my back-up plan."

"Back-up for what?"

"You never know. There was gunplay the first time you came here. There might be some of the same this time."

Upon hearing someone's footsteps, Isaac held up his palm to quiet Sean, then lowered the gun, when the driver appeared out of the darkness. The big man in black whispered, "The good news is that there are no guards, but the bad news is that there's no sign of anyone here."

The other man's assessment of the situation didn't sound very promising and Sean asked, "What's the plan?"

"Plan A meant beating Lena here."

"If Plan A is shot, what's Plan B?" Sean's stomach knotted with the premonition of Isaac’s expected request.

"Sherri and Lena are in that building and you're going in."

"Yeah?" Sean's net worth, dead or alive, to the old man was zero and it was this utter and absolute worthlessness that worried him. "Your friend isn't not going to be very happy to see me."

"He will, when you tell him Isaac Conti," the old man answered confidently, then added, "He'll want to speak with me, then.”

"That's a plan?” Sean would be putting his life at risk yet one more time, but even an alley cat only has so many lives.

"Some of it."

"And what's the rest?" Sean knew well enough that there was no heroism in the deed, just plain cold stupidity.

"When you get my age, you'll understand there are some things that can't be explained.” Isaac squinted, so his brown eyes almost vanished under the eyelids' ancient folds. It was just a practiced gesture to instill confidence in what he was saying was the truth, unfortunately Sean could see through a lie faster than most people, only because he had told more than his fair share. "Let me guess. You're winging it?"

"You could call it that, but I think it will work.” The authority in the old man's voice might have convinced a lesser man to go along with the impromptu scheme, but not Sean. Something completely different was going to make him go into the building against his will and Isaac Conti touched on it by saying, "Here’s your chance to perform a good deed."

"It's a pretty rotten chance."

"Sinners can't be choosy, when it comes to redemption."

"Since you put it that way, what other choice do I have?" While Sherri and Lena might hate him, they loved each other and deserved some happiness and, if he could help their cause, then the deed would help erase some of the bad he had chalked up elsewhere in his life.

"You could walk away."

"No, I'm too old for running. Too slow too, so I guess I'm going in," Sean replied, then surveyed his surroundings, since this might be the last time he was out in the open air alive.

Overhead a few stars poked through the distortion of the megatropolis' multi-million points of light. The damp cool wind from the northwest carried the seasonal scent of skunk mixed with night jasmine, cut grass, car exhaust, and eucalyptus. No one would ever make it into a perfume, but the fragrance was totally LA. Sean breathed deeply to regain his composure, for this was the peace before the storm, then looked at the old man and demanded, "You'll be out here waiting for me."

"I'm not going anywhere." Isaac brandished the .22. "And neither is my friend. Good luck, Mr. Tempo."

"Yeah, thanks. Most of the time people had told me they were backing me up was only to get a headstart on any trouble."

"Do I look like I'd do that?'

"As much as I look like a murderer."

"Very funny, Mr. Tempo, I'll be seeing you in a few minutes." Isaac motioned to his friend and the two men stepped to the shadows.

Having put his life on the line so many times recently should have given Sean nerves of steel, instead he found his hands trembling uncontrollably, as he walked toward the building. Either he came out of this alive or he came out dead.

Heads or tails with nothing in between.

After reaching the entrance, Sean turned around. He was all alone, almost like he was the only man on earth again, except at the other end of the street, cars and trucks were speeding up and down the avenue. 99.999% of LA's population was either going home or already there. By his calculations that left about five people in Southern California in his predicament, and his quick prayer was more for them than himself.

Sean pushed open the building's glass door and followed his memory to a flight of stairs. Like Lena before him, Sean was oblivious to breaking the laser beam to activate the silent alarm upstairs.

A blinking red light on the studio wall informed Louie there was another intruder. The producer immediately signaled Jimmo to stay with the geeks and for the NYPD cop to follow him out of the control room. In the office Louie and deRocco surveyed the security cameras. It took them a few seconds to recognize the black-haired man on the stairs, and Louie said, "Well, well, looks like our friend didn't make it to Mexico after all."

"You want me to handle this?" deRocco asked, though the cop was stunned by Sean's returning here, but then he probably thought he was dead just like the girl had. If so then he was in for a big surprise.

"Yeah, you mind,” Louie answered, for this would get deRocco out of the way long enough for them to finish the program and also for him to make his getaway.

"You care what I...do with him?" After all the screw-ups on this job, he was glad that something was working out for once.

"Just don't let him in here.” The unknown man had interfered with his plans for the last time.

"No problem." deRocco quickly reformulated his strategy. He had the .357 in his jacket. He would get rid of Tempo, then wipe out everyone here, taking his time only with the Spanish girl. One last killing spree in revenge for Kev, then he would grab the money in the aluminum case and get out of town. With the pistol in Sean's hand, deRocco was banking on the LAPD to finger the corpse as the triggerman, for taking the easy way out was his SOP.

In the hallway deRocco screwed a silencer onto the .357's muzzle, then took three giant steps and wheeled around the corner, saying, "Surprise."

A shock was more like it and Sean would have fallen down the steps, if deRocco hadn't grabbed his wrist. The cop stuck the pistol in his prisoner's face and spoke between rapid breaths, "You don't look...so happy to see me,...Seano. And after all...we been through....You think I could...get killed so easy."

"Yeah, I did.” Sean had seen the cop hit the floor, two bullets to the chest. deRocco should be a dead man, except scum like deRocco live through anything and the good die young.

"I was wearing a vest...friggin' stopped the bullets...and me from smokin'....nothin' else could." deRocco's face screwed up with pain.

"Lucky you.” Sean managed to say.

"What you come back for?....Don't tell me you fell in love...with those lezbo pussies?"

"No, I___" whatever Sean had to say, was cut short, when deRocco bent Sean's arm behind his back and frog-marched him down the stairs, saying. "You and I are gonna...have a little walk."

Sean had little doubt as to what fate the cop had in store for him and he hoped Isaac Conti was ready for a ghost resurrected from the grave. If not, then this was going to be a very short walk.

After Louie watched the cop escort his prisoner from the building, he returned to the control room, where Jimmo silently indicated neither the two computer geniuses nor the redhead sucking her thumb in the corner had been any trouble. Inside the experimental room, Sherri and Lena were fondling each other in a soft-core version totally at odds with what he had envisioned. "I can't believe this."

"What, everything is working perfectly," Bob assured him.

"It is?"

"The computer is picking up a more intense signal from the two women than the other day."

"Just from lying in each other's arms?"

"Y-y-y-es," Ur answered, completely satisfied by the results, then again he was just a computer geek and not a Romeo. None of that mattered to Louie, who excitedly impatiently tapped his foot on the floor, as if that tic might hurry the process, and asked, "So can you load up the suit's program?"

The scientists glanced at each other, as if they could read each other's minds. Being their spokesman, Bob Olsen stood up and said, "After we feed all the data into the suit's program, we can suit up and jack in."

"You do the PC thing and I'll be right back with the suit.” Louis said, but disappointment on Bob's face made him ask, "What?"

"I thought one of us might go first.” Bob rocked from foot to foot, as if he had to go the bathroom. Louie had no intentions of allowing one of the inventors be the guinea pig. He did not want any of their sweat or bodily fluids staining the outfit, otherwise it would be too much like walking into a sweltering peep booth after a long night of perverts. "Boys, I know you have worked hard, but I paid for all this. and number two you really aren't skilled enough to know whether or not the thing is working. I mean, when was the last time you were with a woman?"

Bob glanced over his shoulder at Ur, then faced Louie." That doesn't really matter."

"Doesn't matter? You think NASA is going to put a bus driver behind the throttle of the Space Shuttle. Not a chance in hell. Better for an expert to have a first go. Believe me, it will be safer that way." He would give them a shot at it after he was through, but that didn't keep him from saying, "We'll see, boys. Look at that, will you."

Not needing to hear any more arguments, Louie grabbed Alice and led the redhead out of the control room and into the office. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop crying. No one is going to hurt you."

"I know, but I want to go home." Alice blew her nose and wiped away the wet stain of tears.

"First you come saying you want to be a star. Now you want to go home. Don't you understand we’re going to revolutionize sex. For the whole world." Louie stripped off his jacket and shirt like they were on fire.

"You want me to get naked too?” Her mother had warned her to be careful of men like Louie, but the excitement of being in films had blinded her to the obvious danger. She had learned her lesson, only for it to be too late to help her.

"No, you can stay dressed." Alice had only been a stopgap measure, though she might still retain some usefulness, though he wouldn't know until after he tried out the SINSEX suit. The producer pulled the black wig out of her hands and ordered, "Help me get undressed."

As the frightened girl stripped off his trousers, and then tug off his underwear and soxes, he laughed to himself thinking about Isaac Conti having invested all that money so that he could take control of the invention, but Louie figured that ending the old man's life before he grew more decrepit was a favor.

"Help me on with the suit," Louie ordered and spread his arms and legs, as the young girl knelt and slipped the tight-fitting neophyrene sheath over Louie's feet and up over his body. After crowning himself with the HMD helmet, he wished he had a mirror to see himself, but had to be satisfied with asking Alice, "How do I look?"

Alice raised her eyes and surveyed the producer from head to toe. "You look like a super-hero."

"Is that supposed to be funny?” Louie seized her by the arm.

"No, no, you really do.” She would tell him that was exactly what he wanted to hear. "You look great."

"Of course, I do.” Louie held her hand, thinking she would do everything he wanted, but there was always someplace she wouldn't be able to go, but not so with the SINSEX's simulacrum, over whom he had total control. He kissed Alice on the lips and said, "You've been a good girl."

"I've tried."

"I know that." He returned her to the control room told Bob and Ur. "Don't be so disappointed, you'll get your shot, until then Alice will take care of you. Won't you, Alice?"

"Whatever you want," Alice answered, for she thought the two computer techs were as harmless as drowned puppies. Maybe she was right about Bob Olsen, who had been beaten into submission by years of bullying, however his silent compatriot was another story entirely.

Most people would not have detected any change in the pale-skinned computer tech's face, but Bob had become skilled at deciphering Ur's micro-expressions and gestures and the steely contempt in his eyes scared Bob, for he could not recall Ur ever being so angry and was scared someone would be paying very dearly for tapping this volatile vein in the usually meek inventor.

"So if nobody objects, I suggest that you hook up the PC to the suit and let me take it out for a ride. Like no one has any objections, do they?” Louie scornfully surveyed the two men's soppy faces for any sign of rebellion that needed to be squashed.

"I'll jack....you in," Ur Bell offered with a whispering voice, his eyes burning holes in Louie's heart.

"That's the team spirit."

"All I h-h-h-have____"

"Yeah, yeah, save the monologue for the press." He didn't need to hear a five-minute recital from a stuttering idiot. "Believe me, once I'm in, I'll know what to do."

"Whatever y-y-yyou say." Having already loaded the most recent input from Lena's sensory array into the SOMA's program, all that remained was plug in the suit's lead into the PC, thus linking the suit to the power source, then Louie would be already for the ride of his life. Ur rose from his seat and picked up the aluminum case housing the computer.

"Jimmo, stay with Alice and the fat boy,” Louie left the control room with Ur and electronically locked the studio's entrance. The little shit geeks may have invented the SINSEX, but he would market it and take over the entire world of entertainment, showing everyone who ever thought he would turn out bad that being bad could be a plus. Inside the office he told Ur Bell, "I'm ready, when you are."

Ur Bell connected the sensor suit's power line and link-up with the PC, then crunched in a series of numbers on the PC's keyboard. Louie may have been dressed as the rite's high priest, but he was not even an apprentice, when it came to interpreting the codex of computers.

"So this is safe, right?” Louie had tried on the suit several times, but the quasar impulses, hypnotic trance sequencing, or tactor feedback had been down during those trials.

"Y-y-yes." Ur sparingly informed Louie. While every experiment possessed inherent dangers, the inventors had waived the usual restraints of scientific prudence for the prototype.

"So I put on the HMD and the glove will take care of the rest?” Louie asked, though he was so absorbed with his reflection in the window that he missed Ur's turning a single dial to full.

"Yes.” Ur was not wasting any energy to issue any warnings, for Louie Sinreich would have to find out about the energy input to the hippocampus stimulator the hard way.
Louie pressed a button on his desk and several seconds later Jimmo appeared in the doorway. He told the flu-wracked bodyguard, "The albino wants to rejoin his friends. Keep them there, I'll just be a sec."

Jimmo motioned for Ur to follow him.

With the two men out of the way, Louie sealed all the doors for the inaugural run of the SINSEX suit and flicked a switch within the hand array, immediately transporting to a world of primal colors, which morphed into a bedroom on which lay a woman.

Lena.

She was inert.

Clothed in a simple white shift.

The visual pixelation was so refined that when Louie reached out to touch her, he could actually feel her skin. His fingers eagerly played over the control glove's options and the bed zoomed forward, so the naked pseudo-Lena knelt before him. He pressed 'Caress' and the simulacrum touched his chest. The image's fingers hauntingly raced down his body. A lecherous moan issued from his lips, as the colors of the background blurred in a swirling kaleidoscope. His eyes lifted to the LCD control panel and pressed for Lena to lie down.

The simulacrum obeyed without question and sinuously slid on her back with thighs apart, a hand lingering on her loin. This was exactly how Louie had imagined it would be. His breathing paced faster and he dropped on his knees to the floor. By pressing a panel the simulacrum rose to his groin. Almost spazzing in anticipation, he plunged forward, muttering, "Unbelievable."

The real Lena in the lab was ignorant of Louie's experience in the office. Both women's heartbeats resumed their normal rate and the blush on their skin paled, while the sweat dried on their flesh. Lena asked, "Do you think we will get out of this?"

"Louie won't let us just walk away." Sherri had too many years behind her to hope for Louie to honor his end of the bargain. "No matter what happens I want you to know that I love you."

"And I love you.” Lena embraced the older woman tenderly, hoping this moment could last forever for fear of what lay ahead.

Inside the control room the two inventors were perplexed by the readings on their computer screens. Despite the relative tranquility offered by the two women, their sensor out-takes from Lena mimicked the most intense surges from when the two women were engaged in intercourse.

This anomaly confused the inventors, who wished they could be either of the women in the next room, though that metamorphosis could only occur within the mindscape of the Virtual reality program, until then they were trapped being who they were without any chance of escape.

Alice had stopped crying in the corner. Louie Sinreich had promised her the stars, but instead had given her a role in a kidnapping of the woman in the next room. She prayed everything turned out all right, uncertain to what that might mean.

Jimmo also thought about leaving, then recalled the outer door was electronically locked. No one was going anywhere, until Louie returned. Jimmo reckoned the odds of the producer just letting everyone go peacefully to be zero, but none of them were in a worse predicament than Sean Tempo.

Walking into the high grasses of the suburban wilderness bordering the Van Nuys Airport, Sean looked over his shoulder, wondering what was taking the old man, then realized he should have know better, for the first thing you learn in New York is to not trust anyone and Sean was about to pay the ultimate price from breaking that rule.

"Keep your eyes straight ahead. Seano. I wouldn't want you to trip or somethin'." deRocco jabbed his prisoner forward with the .357's muzzle.

"Thanks for being so concerned." Sean prayed for a divine diversion, though doubted any god, even the One into whose religion he had been baptized, was watching over him. He was definitely on his own.

The cars on the Ventura Freeway were too far away for any driver to make out two figures in the dark beyond the white waters over-spilling the Sepulveda Dam. The airport's runway lights were on, but no one was landing or taking off at this hour. When Sean tried to slow his pace, deRocco said, "Keep movin', Seano. Just a little further."

The grasses gave way to a scrambled patch of overgrowth, and with each step Sean waited for a bullet to torpedo through his forty-odd years of memories and bring down the final black curtain, but deRocco was toying with him. A tentacle of vegetation sagged his feet and Sean fell onto the dewy weeds. He scrambled to his feet not wanting to die on his knees.

"You can stop there, Seano.” deRocco told him, "Turn around."

The cop's face was silhouetted in the moonless darkness. An unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth. About five feet separated the two. No way deRocco could miss at this range. No one could.

"Stop right there. I want you to write something." deRocco threw a pen and paper on the ground at Sean's feet.

"A last will and testament?” Sean bent over to pick up the pen and paper. Neither was anyone's idea of a weapon nowadays. A calm descended over him like a Zen cloak, as deRocco posed the cigarette about a foot from his mouth. "I doubt whether...you have anythin' worth...leavin' to anyone, Seano.”

He was dead right.

Sean had little to show for four decades on this planet and his demise would not be marked by flags at half-mast or even a moment of silence. Only his family and friends would mourn him with a small gathering up in Maine.

If only he could be there now.

"So what do you want me to write?"

"That you're sorry...for everythin' and you...blame it all on pornography.” The cop stuck the cigarette back in his mouth.

"That's all?” Sean understood full well why deRocco was forcing him to write down a serial killer's last words before sitting in Old Sparky. He was going to take the fall for a crime he had not committed, but that people would think he had. Nothing was changing, even in the face of death.

"I want it word for word."

"And what do I get from this?"

"You, you're dead meat, but....I won't hurt your whore friends...back there."

"That's the deal?"

"That's it," the cop growled, licking his lips in anticipation this story coming to a close.

Sean scribbled seven letters to make up two words.

"Put it on the ground...and back up. Don't think...of tryin' nothin' funny." deRocco ordered.

Sean retreated several steps, the brush scratching his pants.

The cop crouched and picked up the pad of paper. deRocco read the two words on the paper and smiled, throwing the paper pad into Sean's chest. "Very funny. 'Fuck you' is not...what I asked...you to write. If...you have any prayers,....Seano, you better say 'em quick."

"You think killing me will bring back your partner, but you're wrong. You're also wrong blaming me for him being dead. It's your fault and no one else's. You abandoned him out her and now he's dead," Sean said, desperately playing his last card.

"Fuck you, Seano. None of it was my fault."

"Yeah, really. You send me, no killer, out here to kill someone. And why? Cause you're scared to get on an airplane."

"You're wrong about that. And you're wrong about everything," deRocco answered, however Sean was right. If he had come out and pulled the job with Kev, then his partner and he would be back in New York drinking at their favorite bar, instead of his being alone tying up loose ends, but that realization wasn't going to save Sean, because someone had to pay for Kev's being dead and it certainly wasn't going to be deRocco.

The cop's hand rose up, so the gun muzzle became point A and Sean's head point B. Sean searched his mind for the prayers his mother and the nuns had taught him without remembering one single line. They were lost forever, because forever was coming way ahead of schedule.

He tried to run, but fear nailed his feet to the ground. His teeth clenched together and every muscle in his body tensed for the bullet's impact into his skull. Just as Sean sucked in what he figured to be his last breath on this world, a gathering tremor shuddered beneath him.

At first he thought that a subway was burrowing under them, except the LA Metro didn't run this far out in the Valley. The rumbling rose to an intensity mocking any attempt of man to control Nature. Sean stretched out both his hands to keep his balance like a surfer riding a tidal wave of Jell-O. The weapon in the cop's hand wavered with each sway of the earth, then when deRocco teetered to the left, he fired off a shot.

Sean ducked to the right and the bullet went wide.

Despite the sudden and complete darkness, Sean could make out the renegade cop's eyes widening in terror. Some god had answered his prayers, however Sean was incapable of taking advantage of the heavenly intervention.

Gods can be cruel that way.

He rode the trembling ground, till the quake subsided with one last seismic groan. In the distance house and car alarms beeped. The northern slope of the Hollywood Hills was idyllically blanketed by the velvet black of night, though the Valley had been spared a power outage.

deRocco tried to light his cigarette, but the earthquake had shaken him to the bone. He threw the match onto the damp grass, then searched with his free hand for his lighter. When Sean took a step backward, deRocco warned, "Don't try it."

"I thought the condemned man at least got a cigarette.” Sean had already lived a half-minute longer than he thought he would, so seeing how far he could push deRocco was now a game to him, albeit maybe the last one he would ever play.

"Ain't no one grantin' you a last wish." deRocco raised the Zippo to his cigarette. Sparks passed through the butane jet and ignited the gas. deRocco stuck the cigarette into the flame and sucked in the acrid smoke of burning tobacco. His lungs handled the smoke easily, though his ribs ached with their expansion. Still he felt better than Sean would in a few seconds.

He exhaled and thought about the killings to follow this murder. A clean sweep. No one left. His last job. The biggest and the best. He was getting hard just thinking about it. deRocco decided to pull the trigger once his lungs were totally filled with smoke. "Get ready, Sean. here it comes."

Sean was slightly disappointed the key passages of his existence were not flashing before his eyes. Maybe they would be screened after he had been shot. the words, "Bless me, father, for I have sinned.” assembled its lines in his head, he could only hope he would finish the prayer before he was dead.

A crack sounded to the left and deRocco slapped his hand to his skull, as if a bee had stung his temple. The .357 fell from his hand before he could pull the trigger. The earth tilted at an angle and deRocco hit the ground with a thud. The cigarette fell from his mouth. He desperately reached for it, but his arms and hands were useless. His eyes blinked to clear his vision, but the night was falling faster and faster. The cigarette's cherry dimmed and slowly what was happening dawned on him.

He was dying.

When the old man and his huge associate emerged from the shadows, Sean exclaimed, "You shot him."

"And a good shot at that?” Isaac Conti held up the .22 Sportsman. The blood spurting from the head wound indicated that a finishing shot was unnecessary.

Sean stared at deRocco, realizing how close he had come to being the one on the ground with his lifeblood seeping out of him. Someone up there did like him after all, though he angrily asked the old man, "Where were you?"

"I was at the front, waiting for you to bring out Louie. You're lucky my friend here spotted two figures walking out back. Even luckier that quake came along. Gave us time to catch up.” Isaac looked at the fallen figure and asked, "Who's he?"

"He's the cop Lena killed, only he was wearing a vest."

"Lotta good a vest did him tonight?" Isaac's friend commented.

When Sean knelt to see, if deRocco needed any help, the old man said, "If you want to say a prayer for him and get rid of the body later, fine, but right now we got to get Sherri and Lena."

The old man and his friend walked away, as blood bubbled from the detective's lips, but Sean snatched deRocco's notepad and stuck it in his jacket. Catching up with Isaac and the big man in the shadows behind the building, he asked, "How you know which one of us to shoot?"

"You looked like a non-smoker,” The old man had actually been aiming at the man standing before him, but there was no sense in telling the younger man he had always been a terrible shot. "Did you see Sherri or Lena?"

"No, but they have to be in there.” Very few people get to escape two deaths at the same time and Sean noticed that his hands were vibrating with the aftermath of his close calls from the earthquake and deRocco.

"So it's only Louie we have to worry about.” Isaac asked Sean.

"He has a bodyguard, but I get the feeling he won't be any trouble."

"Are you one-hundred percent sure of that?"

"No."

"Then we'll have to consider him the enemy too." He turned to the big man and said, "You take the bodyguard. Leave Louie to me."

"What about me?"

"You've already played your part. Why don't you get the car?"

"No way, I'm going in with you."

"As you like, but this may end up badly for someone and it could be you."

"Like I told you, I'm getting used to it, "Sean said, then clamped his mouth shut to stop his teeth from chattering. His telling himself to be brave was a command he could not obey.

"Okay, Mr. Tempo, I want you to watch my back. Think you can do that?"

"Yes."

"Glad that's settled," Isaac's companion commented, obviously believing the less said the better your chances were for success. He nodded to the old man and opened the door without saying another word, then led the way down the hallway to the stairs. Sean crept behind the two men, expecting gunfire any second, except only the groaning of the building's damaged support beams greeted them, for everyone upstairs was busy.

Upstairs at the window of the control room Sherri and Lena had gotten dressed and were desperately trying to communicate with the inventors through the think window, which had somehow not shattered during the violent tremors. The inventors indicated that they would let the women free, except were prisoners themselves.

With the exception of Alice they had all lived through the last big one in LA and had seen more than their share of failed buildings in the aftermath of that earthquake either in person or on television and none of them had any desire to survive the quake only to be buried alive.

A body thumped on the lab's door like a bull was loose in the hallway. The jamb creaked with each bump and the door finally gave way. Sherri picked up a metal bar to defend Lena, but when the door sprang open with a bang, the bearded man merely said, "C'mon, let's get out of here."

Nobody had to be told twice.

The two women grabbed their clothes and hurried from the lab. The two inventors rapidly unplugged their PC. The quake might have terrified them within an inch of their lives, but they had been through worse in the past two days.

Jimmo assisted the redhead down the hallway only to discover that the outer door was still sealed. Even with the help of the inventors and the women, the reinforced walls were too strong for him to smash through.

"We have to get the key.” He told Sherri and Lena without stating his fear that the maniac cop might return.

"Where is it?” Sherri asked. While Lena was only thinking about getting out of there, Sherri still was after revenge on Louie.

No matter what it cost.

"With Louie in that room.” Louie Sinreich should have been out here waving the gun in everyone's faces.

"Then we have to get the key.” Sherri looked at the door to the office and asked the big bearded man, "Can you break down the door?".

Jimmo was about to throw himself against the door, when Lena reached over and turned the knob. The quake had unlocked the door. The women and Jimmo regarded one another, then Lena pushed the door open.

Louie could not see them through the HMD, however even if he were to take off the helmet, the producer was blind to anything, but a world of electrically induced orgasms. This delectable chain of delight was almost every man's dream, but hardly one any man should experience, for Louie's mind had been ravaged by the overwhelming combination of tactors, electrical pulses, and hypnotic trance inducers. The seated man could only manage to mutter, "Uh-uh-uh-uh."

The inventors stood at the door and whispered to each other, then Ur Bell went inside the office to disconnect the SINSEX suit from the PC on the desk.

"What is wrong with him?" Jimmo asked, searching through Louie's suit for the key.

The pale-skinned inventor offered the only prognosis possible. "The system crashed. He's-s-s-s erotocomatose."

"You mean he's brain-dead?” The big man waved his hand in front of his boss' face without getting any reaction.

"S-s-sort of," Ur replied and exchanged a synergetic glance with his compatriot.

"How that happen?" Jimmo asked, thinking he would have to start looking for a new job.

"The electrical pulse from the suit must have overloaded his brain during the quake," Bob explained, though without saying that no invention was any good, unless a fail-safe device protected it against theft. He cautiously approached the seated man in the sensor suit and took the HMD off his head.

The electrical overload had singed first-degree burns into the producer's pockmarked face. The black of his pupils almost overlapped the gray pupils and his lips moved in repetition of the same indecipherable chant. Lena waved her hand before Louie's eyes without a flicker of recognition and asked, "You think it's permanent?"

"Could be,” Bob Olsen replied, while helping his fellow inventor take the SINSEX suit off the producer.

"I h-h-hope his insurance is p-p-p-paid up, cause he's g-g-going to need it." Ur Bell stated, for the damage to Louie Sinreich destined him to a drool ward for the rest of his life.

"That's his problem, not ours," Jimmo said, as he picked up the outer door's electronic key. Hearing a creak in the ceiling, he added, "We better get out of here before the building comes down."

"We're ready,” Bob Olsen said, after the two men finished packing their equipment into the portable aluminum cases. They had the SOMA data from Lena, the suit, the programs, the harness, and the HMD. Bob Olsen grabbed hold of them and said, "We'll be in the corridor."

Both women ignored the men, though it was impossible for Sherri to not listen to the gibberish issuing from Louie Sinreich. It took her only a few seconds to understand that Lena's succubus had been transported with the porno producer's mind and that, despite his being totally insensible behind those lost eyes Louie was experiencing his every wish and desire with her lover. Sherri glanced at the gun on the shelf, while the aluminum case caught the young actress' eye. Lena had lived up to her part of the bargain and taking the money would allow Louie Sinreich to fulfill his end of the deal. She picked up the case, then turned around to see what was keeping Sherri.

The older woman stood next to the naked man in the chair. The gun in her hand pressed against the babbling producer's temple. Lena could only say, "Sherri, don't."

A boom reverberated through the hallway outside the office.

The three men and Alice jumped against the wall, as a bullet blasted a hole in the front door. Two men pushed their way into the hallway. The old one trained his gun on everyone in the hallway. Alice began crying again. The other three men raised their hands over their heads, at first thinking they were under arrest, until Isaac Conti asked, "Where's Sherri?"

"She's in the office." Jimmo answered, indicating the open doorway to the left with a nod of his head.

"Get them outside,” Isaac Conti handed Tony the gun.

After the others left, Isaac and Sean approached the office doorway carefully and peeked inside. Sherri was standing next to Louie Sinreich, who was naked in a chair oblivious to everything around him. Isaac had a fairly good idea what had happened to him once he spotted the burn marks on his temple, but he was not concerned with Louie, but with Sherri and what she might do with the gun in her hand.

Whereas Isaac Conti could accept his having killed the cop outside, Sherri's blowing her life away on a burnt-out husk was unacceptable. He started into the room, until Lena glanced at the two men at the door and silently warned them to leave. Isaac almost protested that Sherri was his niece, but Sean took hold o his arm and whispered, "Let Lena handle it."
Once the two men left, Lena stepped closer to her lover and said, "Sherri, he's as good as dead."
"He has you inside him,” Sherri said without turning her head, grimly determined to destroy Louie.
"I am still me. Nothing's changed," Lena told her lover, for she was already too many people's fantasy. One more wasn't going to hurt too much, but if Sherri pulled the trigger, the world of love that could exist for them would vanish forever. "Put the gun down, baby. Killing him means killing any life with me. He's not worth it."
Sherri glanced at her lover, then the naked man in the chair. She was at a crossroads, where her life could go in any direction.

Revenge or love.

Death or life.

It was so simple.

Killing the man meant her life would be governed by others, according to the judgment of law, freeing her from any decisions for years, while walking her away would open up the world.

Sherri regarded Lena, struck by how angelic the younger woman appeared, almost as if Louie Sinreich had stolen whatever evil could have existed in her. This exorcism might have been an illusion, but Sherri was more than willing to accept it and handed by handing the gun to Lena.

Lena breathed easily, then said, "Let's get out of here."

Neither of them could argue with this plan and they left the room to the naked man in the chair. His eyes were eternally locked on the non-existent images of a naked woman doing whatever he wished. This vision would never change and he would never know how close to Hell that heaven was. Maybe it was better that way, not that it mattered, because some people deserve to live out Hell on Earth.