Hannah Bronto - Lovers in paradise

"Good." He nodded once to affirm his victory. Then he sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers across his chest, and he spoke to me while fixing his eyes on a spot somewhere above us on the ceiling. He said: "Over the centuries, mankind has learned to deal reasonably well with his sexual drives. This, as I'm sure you're well aware, was not always the ease. There was a time in our past when – generally speaking – men and women were ashamed of their nude bodies, and they abhorred and denied their sexual feelings. They were obsessed with outmoded ideas like personal fidelity, and despite all the readily available evidence, they chose to believe that man was not fundamentally a promiscuous being…"

I groaned.

His eyes dropped from their lofty angle, and he glared at me. "However," he continued, clearing his throat, "today we no longer suppress our sexual drives, nor are we ashamed of or by them. In this present world in which we live, sexual experience is looked upon much in the same way we look upon… eating."

I remembered suddenly who it was who'd made the analogy between an Erotiserie and a luncheonette.

He pursued the metaphor. "Yes – eating. As a biological necessity, as a fact of life to be faced openly and realistically and maturely. Our culture has a very mature, intelligent, and quite sophisticated outlook toward sex in relation to the generations that have passed before us. In our world, nothing is repressed sexually; in fact, everything is out in the open. Our lifestyle is one of total uninhibition."

I shifted in my chair to show my impatience. He went on, unaffected.

"Sexual interplay," he observed, pressing his fingers together as if in prayer, "between strangers, friends, neighbors, and even members of the same family is looked upon as normal in our culture. The petty sexual jealousies of another age have long ago been laid to rest, just as personal possessiveness on a sexual level no longer exists. So much so, in fact, there had not been a single sex-related crime in over one hundred years… until now!"

I opened my eyes. "What did you say?"

He smiled and went on, confident now that he had my undivided attention. "And why should there be sexual crimes in our world? We have everything available sexually; nothing is repressed, nothing is considered perverse. Every form of sexual interaction – from pornography to live sex shows to Erotiseries – is readily available to every member of our sexually liberated culture whenever the mood strikes him to satisfy his erotic appetite."

"Don't stop now, you long-winded son-of-a-bitch!" I cried. "Get to the point!"

Commissioner Moran leaned forward across his desk. He spoke in a harsh whisper. "Malachi, something very unusual and very frightening is happening in our city. Someone, apparently the same person, has committed a vicious and brutal series of rapes…"

"Rape!"

"What's right. It's a frightening word, isn't it: rape. And what's even more frightening is the fact that there has not been a single case of rape reported any where in over one hundred years."

"My God…"

"Needless to say, the necessity of solving this despicable crime at once is of the utmost urgency. Mal, the city is in turmoil – panic is about to break loose. Thank God public awareness of these brutal attacks has been kept to a minimum; there have been no official releases. But there have been leaks. The city is rampant with rumor. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep this a secret."

A chill ran up my spine, and I shuddered involuntarily. The very idea of rape was repugnant; it was so completely alien to my way of thinking, to my way of feeling, that it physically made me feel ill.

"He's sick," I said, shaking my head. "Whoever is doing this is a sick, sick person."

"Clearly. But your reaction, Mal," observed Commissioner Moran, "touches exactly the core of the problem that faces us. We, as a society, and as individuals, no longer know how to deal with this form of antisocial behavior; it's far, far too threatening to us. My God, we don't even know how or why something like this can be happening, much less find the one responsible for the crimes. It's absurd, it's bizarre, it's… perverted. Why in the name of God should any man rape when free and open sexual intercourse exists for all members of our society? Why?"

I didn't know the answer to that question. Yet.

"You've got to find him, Mal, and stop him," Commissioner Moran told me. "You've got to restore sanity before one man's sickness awakens that same kind of sickness in others. And if that happens, we'll be faced with an epidemic that quite literally could destroy us."

For a moment I just sat there, numbed by Commissioner Moran's words. I had anticipated a special assignment, for that was my job, but nothing of this magnitude. This case had the potential for doing more harm than any I've ever worked on before. This rapist, whoever he was, had to be stopped, and stopped fast.

"I see what you mean, Spens," I said after a while. "You had better give me all the details quickly, because I'd like to get started on this at once."

"Everything that we have on these cases has been pulled and culled from our files," Commissioner Moran explained, "including verbatim depositions from the three victims. The entire package of material is sitting on the desk in your office awaiting your inspection. Naturally, you'll have all the assistance you could possibly want, including the full and unlimited use of Central Computer. You have been assigned a tube car for your transportation, with the highest possible tunnel passage authorization. All departments are open to you, and all the supervisors have been instructed to drop whatever it is they may be doing whenever you need help. If you need a staff, tell me how many, and they'll be assigned to you."

I began to rise up from my seat, impatient to get started. "Fine… excellent. It sounds like you've taken care of everything. Let me go read over the files and familiarize myself with the case, and then I'll be in a better position to know what else I may need."

I was halfway to the door before Commissioner Moran spoke again. "There is one more thing, Mal."

I turned. "Yes?"

"I've assigned you a partner…"

"What?"

"Now, now don't get yourself all worked up," he said, trying to soothe me. "I know how you feel about working by yourself, but…"

"No good, Spens," I cried, shaking my head. I stomped back across the room to his desk. Leaning over it, resting my hands on top of it, I said again: "No damn good. I don't work with a partner, you know that. Now, if I need a staff, I'll let you know. But a partner is out…"

"A partner, Malachi Browne," Commissioner Moran insisted, "is in. And this comes not only from me, it comes directly from the Mayor himself. This is a big case, Mal, and we can't afford to take any chances. Two heads, even if one of them is yours, still are better than one."

I sat down heavily in my seat. "But Spens…"

"No buts, Mal. You have no say in this matter. On this case you'll have a partner." He flipped a switch on his desk and spoke into the communicator. "Sergeant Mycroft, send in Policewoman Wolfe, please."

My eyes widened. "She? Oh, Jesus, Spencer."

The door opened, and in walked Policewoman Wolfe. This time she was smiling, and I had a feeling she had known about this all along. She walked directly across the room, without once looking at me, stopping directly in front of Commissioner Moran's desk.

"You sent for me, sir?" she asked.

"Yes. Sit down please, Jocelyn. You, of course, are familiar with this case…"

"Yes, sir. I've gone over most of the information from the files, and I'm quite familiar with it."

"And you know, of course," Commissioner Moran continued, "that you'll be working as Detective Browne's assistant."