George Chesbro: Second Horseman Out of Eden

"A good idea," Garth said brusquely as he brushed past the cringing Craig Valley and entered the living room.

I walked up to stand in the archway beside Valley, watched as Garth picked up the receiver of a telephone on a small desk across the room, held it out.

"You want me to dial them for you, Valley?" Garth continued casually.

"What is wrong with you people?!" Valley shouted near my left ear. His voice was growing even higher pitched, and was now close to soprano range.

"You mentioned something about calling the police," I said, stepping away and rubbing my left ear. "Garth is just trying to oblige you. When they arrive, we can all sit down and chat about a possibly illegal shipment of an agricultural commodity that you arranged for Nuvironment. I certainly hope you acquired the necessary permits, Valley. I also hope you have whatever money was promised to you, because my bet is that your bosses are going to be very unhappy to be caught with dirty hands, if you will. Now, Garth and I really don't give a damn about all that dirt, or the bugs in it, so you might be better off just answering our questions. What do you think, Dr. Valley?"

The blood slowly drained from the botanist's face, leaving his flesh with a pasty, grayish hue. His mouth kept opening and closing, but no sound came out, and his head kept swiveling back and forth between Garth and me, his watery eyes wide with shock-and, I was certain, fear.

"How could you know?" he finally managed to say in a small voice that cracked. "How on earth could you possibly know?"

I motioned for Garth to put down the phone, and he did; then I motioned for Valley to sit down on the sagging couch in his living room, and he did. His movements were stiff and awkward, as if he were drunk.

"We're really not interested in getting you into trouble, Dr. Valley," I said as I went into the living room and sat down on a footstool in front of the couch. I glanced over my shoulder at Garth, who had moved to the fireplace and was leaning on the mantel. His face was impassive, but he was gazing intently into the red-haired botanist's face. "All we want is some information, and we have a very good and important reason for wanting it. Nobody will be told that we got the information from you." I paused as Valley suddenly leaned forward, clasped his hands together, and bowed his head. At first I thought he might be sick, and it was a few moments before I realized that he was praying. "Are you all right, Dr. Valley?"

There was no reply. I again glanced at Garth, who simply nodded as an indication that I should go on.

"We already know that Nuvironment's sole business is conducting research into the feasibility of constructing self-contained environments called biospheres," I continued quietly, speaking to the top of the man's head. "Bringing in that soil means that they're ready to construct at least an experimental prototype, most probably on a site somewhere around here. I repeat: we're not interested in getting you into trouble. But we already know that you tried to get the soil for them while you were working at the Botanical Garden; we know all about how the Customs Service stopped the plan, and about the personal and professional difficulties you suffered soon afterward; we know that the soil is now in this country. Before, Garth and I weren't sure that you'd been involved in importing it; after your little outburst in the foyer, we are sure. Now, sir, we need to know where that soil was dumped, and we need to know right now-this minute. The truth of the matter is-"

Suddenly Craig Valley's head snapped up and his right arm shot out so that his trembling index finger was only inches from my chest. The veins and cords in his neck stood out and writhed like worms beneath his skin, and his watery gray eyes gleamed with rage, hatred-and madness.

"You'll know the truth before long, nonbeliever!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs, thoroughly startling me so that I almost fell backward off the footstool. " 'And there went out another horse that was red!' Soon you and your brother will see the second beast!"

I braced myself on the stool and waited for more, but Valley had apparently finished saying his piece. He glared at me for a few moments with his madness-glazed eyes, then abruptly slumped into a corner of the sofa, covered his face with his hands, and began to tremble violently. And then he began to pray again-or chant, or something; his voice was steadily rising in pitch and volume, but I couldn't make out anything he was saying.

Garth abruptly strode across the room, grabbed a handful of Valley's shirt, and pulled him up into a sitting position. End of prayer. Valley gasped, then made a mewling sound deep in his throat, like the cry of a startled animal.

"Pull yourself together and do your praying later," my brother said in a low, even voice. "The reason we need to know where the soil was dumped is because there's a little girl somewhere around there who's being sexually abused. Considering the fact that some guy could be giving her a bad time at this very moment, Mongo and I really don't have any time for you and your bullshit." Garth paused, and smiled thinly without any warmth whatsoever. "It's almost Christmas, pal, so how about getting into the spirit of the season and giving a little kid a break? I'll take it as a nice gesture if you do, and then I'll refrain from breaking your arm. If you don't want to be opening presents with one hand, the next words out of your mouth had better be in a language Mongo and I can understand. Now where the fuck is Nuvironment storing that dirt?"

Garth had certainly gotten Valley's attention; the man's pale gray eyes were wide-but they now mirrored as much shock as alarm or madness. "What you say is impossible," he said to Garth in a hoarse, croaking voice. "It's impossible."

"What's impossible?" I asked. "Are you saying Nuvironment doesn't have the dirt, or are you denying that you helped them bring it into this country?"

Valley's response was to wag his head repeatedly. His mouth with its thin lips opened and closed, but the only sound he managed to produce was a kind of whimper. He resembled nothing so much as a very ugly beached fish that had been brought up from some very deep, lightless layer of a poisonous ocean.

"No, I don't think that's what he means," Garth said, his voice soft and oddly distant. My brother's matter-of-fact tone and lack of visible expression were beginning to make me feel decidedly uneasy. I'd learned that with Garth, since his poisoning with nitrophenylpentadienal and his eventual recovery, it was best to read his emotional and behavioral traffic signals in reverse from the way they would be read with most other people. "I do think he means that what I said was happening to the girl is impossible." He paused, tightened his grip on the botanist's shirt ever so slightly. "If you don't want to talk about one kind of dirt, pal, then we'll talk about another. Tell us where the good Reverend William Kenecky is holed up."

Craig Valley finally found his voice-and it sounded haunted. "It's impossible. The reverend is a man of God; he would never do such a thing."

Garth yanked Valley to his feet, ripping the man's shirt. My brother let go of the tattered fabric, wrapped his fingers around the other man's throat. "He's repeatedly raping a girl by the name of Vicky Brown, Valley-and I assume you know who she is too. Jesus Christ, man, if you care anything about children, or even just this child, tell us where to find Kenecky and the girl. Where is Nuvironment storing the dirt?"

"God, I'm going to be sick," the botanist groaned, and put a hand over his mouth as he retched dryly. "Please let me go to the bathroom."

Garth released his grip as I rose from the footstool and stepped away. Valley staggered across the living room and through another archway into the dining room. Garth and I followed, watched as he entered a bathroom adjacent to the kitchen at the rear of the town house, slammed the door shut behind him. A few seconds later there was the sound of water running.