by John Zakour
“Yes it is,” I said coldly.
“And that’s something I’ll have to live with.”
“Whatever.”
“By the way, Mr. Johnson, you’re Eve Johnson’s son. Is that correct?”
“Yes, I am” I said, taken somewhat aback.
“She’s a fine woman,” he replied. “Please give her my best.”
“Um…okay.”
“So what's going to happen when the World Council learns Dr. Thompson is still alive?” HARV asked.
“I'm not planning on telling them. Are you?”
“Why of course not.”
“Good, then it's not our problem. I suspect that if word does leak out, his girls can handle it. In the meantime, we make sure Ona’s payment clears and chalk this whole thing up as a win.”
“Good point, Zach,” HARV agreed.
“HARV, did you just call me, Zach?”
“That’s your name, isn't it?” HARV asked, with a smirk. “Or would you prefer me to refer to you as Zachary?”
“No, Zach is fine. It’s just you've always just called me boss in the past.”
“Well, I suppose, I’ve grown,” HARV said. “Because, while you are still technically my boss, although come to think of it you don't actually pay me…”
“Pay you?”
“I also consider us to be partners. And…friends. And I figure that if we share the same brain with one another then we should at least be on a first name basis.”
Though I admit that part of me that was a little scared by the fact that my computer and I were now on a first name basis, another even bigger part was kind of glad. Strange as it may seem, HARV and I really were partners now.
“I suppose you’re right, HARV. I suppose you’re right.”
I gave Mom and the Gladians the all-clear signal. The Gladians sent a team down and studied the site for another six hours before they were satisfied that both Foraa and the D-Cubed were gone. Officially they thanked us for our help in “diffusing an awkward situation” but I think Mom was a little loose with the translation. I got the feeling that the Gladians weren’t very comfortable with my knowing that they came within a few minutes of destroying North America (I knew I sure wasn’t). For now though, we were parting company with the understanding that everything had worked out as well as could be expected (but you won’t catch me vacationing on Glad-7 or Glad-9 anytime soon).
Mom, Tony, HARV and I waited outside the Oblivion while the Gladians did their inspection. The building had been severely damaged even before the D-Cubed disappeared. Having the damaged structure now atop a ten kilometer deep hole in the ground made staying inside seem downright suicidal. So we left.
Tony bought us coffee and doughnuts (he’s a cop after all) and we ate them while watching the sun come up over the New Vegas strip.
“So you knew all along that Ms. Thompson’s computer was actually her long-dead father?” HARV asked.
“Only at the end,” I said. “He was too protective of the Quads to be an ordinary computer. That and his use of the phrase ‘as you wish’ were dead giveaways. No computer in its right mind says stuff like that.”
“But did we really accomplish anything here?” Tony asked. “I mean, Dr. Thompson was going to stop Foraa from using the D-Cubed all along, right.”
“Maybe.”
“So, did our being here make a difference?”
“Look at it however you want, Tony,” I said with a smile, “but it’s going down on my resume as saving the world.”
We laughed a bit more and ate doughnuts steadily until the sun was high in the sky.
It was nearly noon when Tony and I loaded up his hovercraft for the ride back to Frisco (Tony promised to obey the speed limit this time, which is the only reason I agreed to go with him). He didn’t mind the ribbing so much because he’d called the Frisco Police Commissioner earlier in the morning to learn that, now free of Foraa’s mind control, the Commissioner had no recollection whatsoever of Tony’s resignation. In fact, he was wondering why Tony wasn’t in the office yet (and why his badge was on his office desk). Tony covered as best he could (he told the Commissioner that he had a sore throat and ended up taking a sick day).
We left Mom at the teleportation center, booked on the next porter back to New Rochester. She and I said our goodbyes in the parking lot.
“So, um, thanks for the visit, Mom,” I said. “It was…interesting.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Sorry about yelling at you in front of the Gladians.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “They probably didn’t understand most of what was said. And it was good for both of us to get all that out in the open.”
“I guess so.”
“You know, you and I should save the world together more often.”
“I’d rather not,” I said. “I don’t like to mix business and family.”
“But you and Electra are coming to New Rochester in the spring, right?”
“We’ll be there.”
“All right then.” She smiled and held her arms out. “Now come here and give me a hug.”
She felt different when I hugged her, less tense, less awkward, softer and warmer. I suppose that she thought the same about me. And we stayed that way for a while before parting.
“One last thing, Mom.”
“Yes?”
“The computer version of Dr. Thompson seemed to indicate that he knew you. Does that sound right?”
“Dave Thompson, that horse’s patoot? Pardon my language. Yes, I knew him. What did he say about me?”
“He said that you were a fine woman.”
“Well, I guess he’s not a total idiot.”
“Mom, I’m not…related to the Thompson Quads, am I?”
“What? Oh no, no, of course not,” she said. “How could you even think that?”
“I’m sorry. Forget I mentioned it.”
“Dave Thompson and I were friends from before you were born. Nothing more. He was a creepy man back then. Why do you think he had to engineer his children? It’s because no woman in her right mind would ever go near him.”
“But how exactly do you know him?” I asked.
She smiled and touched me gently on the cheek.
“One of these days, Buttlebug, I’ll tell you everything you want to know about me and my life.”
“You mean there’s more?”
“For now though, why don’t you go home and get reacquainted with that nice doctor you’re dating. And for Gates sake, get some sleep. You look like you haven’t slept well in ages. Are you sure you’re eating right?”
I couldn’t help but smile.
I was back in New Frisco in time to meet Electra at the clinic as her shift was ending. We went out to dinner, had some wine and laughed more together than we had in a long while. At evening’s end, we went back to the house and went to bed where she stole my share of the covers as we slept.
I didn’t care, because I slept soundly and dreamt of wonderful things too numerous to mention.
My name is Zachary Nixon Johnson. I am the last private detective on earth. And I am wouldn’t want it any other way.
Don't miss the next Nuclear Bombshell mystery
The Radioactive Redhead
ALSO BY JOHN ZAKOUR AND LAWRENCE GANEM
The Nuclear Bombshell Series
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