"THE ADVENTURES OF VIC SOCOTRA, PRIVATE DICK"

"NO REST FOR THE WICKED"

THE EERY SOBBING IN THE LITTLE BLACK ROOM WENT ON AND ON.
It wasn't me; I was still gagged. I took a quick survey of my body. My left wrist hurt like blazes from breaking it on the chain. I suddenly realized my hands were free! That burst of chopper fire must have parted my bonds. I reached up and ripped the gag from my mouth. I spat the sour cotton batting out.

"All right. Fat Man, it's all over nowl" I shouted.

"Sit on it, SocotraI" squeaked the high-pitched voice. A huge body brushed me. The slight contact knocked me violently to the floor. My nose took the brunt of the fall. The door was ripped open, and light flooded the room.

From my vantage point I could see Dr. Ali Fleiglebaum leaning up against a purple pipe, holding his guts like they were something precious. Maybe they were. At least to him. Something seemed to leak over his fingers. The Tommy gun lay on the floor between us. I pulled myself over to it.

The Fat Man had made his exit. I grabbed the chopper. It had the big drum clip on it and plenty of ammo. I looked down at the chains around my feet. There was only one fast way out of them. I closed my eyes and started blasting. I hit myself with only a couple of the big Slugs. I kicked the chains off and stood up. The doctor kept up his sobbing.

 

 "Shut up, Fleiglebaum," I said. "You make me nervous, you simpering wimp." He ignored me. He was pressed up against the purple pipe like his life depended on it. I had had enough of his noise.

I turned the chopper on him and stitched him a new belly button. A stray bullet or two hit the purple pipe. The world fumed bright white, and I left the room through the wall.
I was sitting out in the hallway, looking back at the jagged silhouette of a man with a chopper torn in the wall. Inside the room was a caldron of flame. I must have hit something volatile when I terminated the doctor.

Flames started to lick the hallway through the door and the hole. I figured the best place for me was elsewhere, and pronto. I got up and staggered away from the fire.

When I was far enough away, I took stock of myself. A broken wrist, a couple of bullet holes in the legs, slight concussion, possible brain damage. I could have used a drink.

I had felt better in my life, but trouble is my business. Right now, my business was in trouble. I made sure the chopper was cocked and ready. I stepped through a steel door and started on the trail of the Fat Man ....