Fantasy So Night Follows Day by TMaskedWriter

[Ramesh_Rocky]

So Night Follows Day Pt. 25

"Did you light the candles? Did you put on 'Kind of Blue?'
Did you use that Ivy League voodoo on him, too?
He thinks he'll be all right, but he doesn't know for sure.
Just like every other unindicted co-conspirator.
Mata Hari had a house in France,
where she worked on all her secret plans.
Men were falling for her, sight unseen.
She was a genius."
-Warren Zevon, "Genius"

"There's another question for you, Contessa." Leonard Whyte CBE said as he composed his suicide note. "Back at the meeting, you mentioned... well, not a name, but a person. Lee knew who it was, and it had the right effect on him. Since I'm about to die, you can tell me now. Who was it? Whose name besides Contessa Helena de San Finzione's own puts the Fear of You into the Crime Lords of Asia?"

"You wouldn't believe it." Helen said, lying on her back on the couch, and smoking while he wrote. "And he's seen as a racist stereotype these days; his name's considered offensive now."

"Oh, come now. You've compelled me to cooperate and answer all your questions, and you seem to have answered most of mine truthfully. Like the interpreter chap who ran out of here, I know too much for you to let me live. You could make me forget it all; but after everything that's happened, I certainly know the choice that I'd make if our situations were reversed. You're killing me before this night is through, we both know that. So, it's definitely not going anywhere. Might as well tell me."

Helen thought for a drag, then decided "All right" and got up, walking over to the table. She bent down and whispered five syllables into Whyte's ear.

Whyte's eyes widened.

"Bullshit!" He said. "He's a fictional character, doesn't exist!"

"And that's what he wants everyone to go right on thinking, Leonard." Helen replied. "He's retired now. Though, from what I'm hearing out of Hong Kong, he's making a brief little comeback to get his house back in order, then he's back to his retreat in the Himalayas. Says the air's cleaner up there, and damn if he isn't right."

"But if he were real, he'd have to be..."

"I DID say I was into older guys. And they don't get much older than him."

"Well, you control minds, so do The Equals and this Bailey woman; why can't he be real, too, I suppose?"

"Reports are already coming in about a wave of 'mysterious deaths amongst rich, powerful, elderly men in Hong Kong.' Lots of exotic insect and animal bites; couple bizarre accidents. I think HE wants to save me a visit, too. Just for different reasons. We..." Helen searched for words. "Go a while in-between seeing each other, Leonard. He's sorta my idea of 'a bad boy.' But when we DO, Leonard..."

"So, that special name he gave you?"

Helen was still lost in the thought she'd trailed away from, realized what Whyte had asked, and sighed dreamily.

"I'm his little Cursed Lotus, yes."

Whyte laughed, then finished his note. Helen took it back to the couch to smoke and read. After a while, she set it down.

"Leonard." Contessa Helena de San Finzione said, reading over Whyte's work. "I must say that this is absolutely fucking beautiful."

"I can't take credit for the whole thing." He replied. "That 'third-rate Steve Jobs' line and some of the other things you kept making me call myself were all you."

"I hope you don't mind; well, actually, I don't care if you mind, but if my Ministry of Science ever develops time travel, I'm going back and giving this to Warren Zevon for lyric ideas. Also telling him not to be afraid of doctors. Definitely fucking him. Do you like Warren Zevon, Leonard? He's sort of a hero of mine. 'Genius' is, like, the best make-out song ever. Hell, if you'd played that song at any point during all of this, my pants might've made their way back to the table."

"I liked Werewolves of London." Whyte replied, a grimace on his face after writing out the five-page note. "Don't know anything else."

The grimace on Helen's face looked even more pained than the one on the face of the man who would die as soon as she got around to it. She fought the urge to slap him, as she wasn't sure if she'd want marks on him yet.

"And there went my last shred of sympathy for you. My Athiesmo, Leonard! The man came and went WITHIN your lifetime! You could have seen him play live! I don't know that he ever toured Yorkshire, but he HAD to have made it to London, at least. Definitely worth a fuckin' train ticket! Here." She grabbed the remote and turned the tv to the music channels. "Just because I'm about to end you, doesn't mean you can't get some fucking culture beforehand." She switched to the La Contessa's Favorites menu. "The hotel's music channels have two entire pages of Warren Zevon stations, each playing one of his albums on a loop, staggered every 15 minutes, so you can always find just the right Warren Zevon album or song to suit your current mood. Guess whose idea that was."

She selected through them.

"Now, which one's about to cycle around to track one? Ah, perfect!" She went down to one of the "Life'll Kill Ya," stations and selected it. The opening guitar and harmonica of "I Was in the House When the House Burned Down" came out of the TV.