SERIAL LIVING

(c) 2001

Chapter Seven

By

Jennifer Dunne



Al stared at Lynn in disbelief.  "Darling?  Don't you know who he is?"

"For starters, he's not the one who kidnapped me at gunpoint, got me shot --

or rather, made me think I was shot -- and he certainly never made me

believe..."  She turned away, her face flaming as red as Al's pavement burns,

and beamed at Feldman again.  "It's been a long time."

"An hour without your glorious presence would be too long," Feldman cooed,

managing to salaam with one hand, hold his diaper with the other, and still

look graceful.  Al hated him.

Well, technically, he'd hated Feldman ever since he'd learned about the

terrorist's activities, but he'd have hated any evil-doer in the same place.

 Now he had a personal hatred for the man, as a possible rival for Lynn's

affections.  Worse, a possibly successful rival for Lynn's affections.

"How do you two know each other?"

Feldman answered, his gaze never leaving Lynn, sweeping over her as if he

could see beneath her suit.  Who knew, maybe he could.  He was just crazy

enough to have forced someone to invent X-ray vision contact lenses.

"The lovely Miss Lough was kind enough to take pity on this humble one, when

the weight of oppressive--"

"I represented him in some pro bono work a few years back," Lynn interrupted.

 "It was all a big misunderstanding. They'd raided his house, thinking they

were busting a porno dealer.  But it was a birthday celebration for his

mother."

Feldman muttered something in Hebrew, and followed it with fluid Arabic.  The

words meant nothing to Al, but Lynn obviously understood them, because her

eyes widened.  She stepped closer and placed her hand on Feldman's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Kenny.  I didn't know she'd died."

Al blinked.  "Kenny?  Who's Kenny?  This is Al-Kamir Feldman, one of the

world's most evil terrorists.  He personally slaughtered an entire class at a

bible college."

Feldman's face darkened.  Eyes bulging, he pushed Lynn aside and advanced on

Al.  "They dared to say my mother's films were the work of the devil.  I

tried to show them what skill she had, and they called her a whore.  A whore!"

Spittle flew from Feldman's mouth.  "She wasn't a whore!  She was a saint!

 And a brilliant actress!"

"Real smooth, Lou," Lynn muttered.  Then she tentatively touched Feldman's

arm.

"Of course she was a good person.  She was married to a rabbi."

A rabbi, a terrorist, and a porno star walk into a bar.

Al shook his head.  Being dragged by Lynn's car and then drop kicked by Miss

Deadly Shoes must have knocked his brains loose.  Now wasn't the time to be

thinking of stupid jokes.  Lynn's life was in danger.  From the man currently

embracing her.

Embracing her?  When had that happened?

"My lovely Miss Lough, you understand," Feldman murmured down the neckline of

her blouse.  "I knew you would, when I saw you last night."

Lynn shoved Feldman's chest.  Hard.  He stumbled backward and fell into his

chair with a squish.  A brief look of disgust twisted his features.  The

diaper was obviously functional, not a fashion statement.  Al felt obscurely

cheered by that fact.

"When?" Lynn demanded, going into agressive cross-examination mode.  "And

where?  And why didn't you say or do anything to make your presence known?"

Feldman blinked, then squirmed in his seat.  "I couldn't.  I wasn't there.  I

didn't say I was there.  I said I saw you."

Al frowned at the high-pitched voice.  What happened to Feldman's deep

barritone?  

"When?" Lynn demanded again.

"Last night."

"What time last night?"

"I don't know."

"Guess."

"Late."

"How late?"

"I don't know.  Late."

"Dinner time?  Ten o'clock?  Midnight?  Two AM?"

"Around... around two, I guess."

Lynn paled.  "Where did you see me?"

"I'm not sure."

"Guess."

"I don't know.  It was a field...."

Al wouldn't have believed Lynn could get any paler, but she did.  In fact,

she looked about ready to swoon. Discreetly, he edged his way behind her to

catch her if she fell, all the while wondering what Lynn had been doing in a

field at two in the morning.

"Seymour.  He was yours."

Who the hell was Seymour?  And what had he been doing in a field with Lynn?

"Yes.  But I lost control..."

"I just bet you did, you sick bastard."

Feldman jumped to his feet and bellowed, "I am not a bastard!  My mother was

not a whore!"

Damn.  "Smooth move, Lynn."

She glared at both of them, a neat trick considering he was behind her and

Feldman was in front of her.  Unlike anyone with even half a brain, she

refused to be intimidated by the terrorist, who looked like he was going to

begin foaming at the mouth any moment now.

"You're nothing but a dirty peeping Tom," she shouted.  "Hiding behind your

robots and your surgeons because you can't get any on your own.  You couldn't

when you were my client, and that was before the diaper.  You sure as hell

can't now."

"What exactly happened in that field?" Al asked.

"Stay out of this, Al.  It's none of your business.  You weren't really

there."

What kind of an answer was that?  Maybe Lynn had been knocked unconscious by

Miss Deadly Shoes, too.  She was hallucinating.  That was the only

explanation of why she'd get into a shouting match with a dangerous terrorist.

"This is all his business," Feldman said, suddenly calm again.  "It's his

brain I wanted.  Your body was an unexpected surprise.  Unlike when you knew

me before, Miss Lough, I have power now.  I always get what I want."

"Oh, yeah?"

The rest of Lynn's snappy comeback was cut off as Feldman bellowed, "Kalilah!

 Now!"

Al heard a soft "pfft" noise, then something stung him in the butt.  He

reached back, and his fingers brushed the plastic fletching of a dart.  The

world wobbled, and he clutched Lynn for support.  Unfortunately, she was as

wobbly as he was, and they collapsed in a tangle on the floor.

"Take them to the prison set," Feldman ordered.

"No, not the interrogation scene from BABES IN GANGLAND," Lynn murmured. She

tried to get to her hands and knees and crawl away, but her legs were tangled

with Al's.

"Exactly," Feldman gloated.  "I'm going to wring Mister Albert Einstein

Longworth's brain like a sponge, until he tells me everything I want to know

about the invisibility suit.  And then I'm going to make you sing like a

bird."

Al struggled to disentangle his legs from Lynn's, so at least she could get

away.  He lacked the strength to even rise to his knees.  The best he could

do was roll over, away from Lynn.  That brought his eyes on the level of a

pair of shoes.  Evil and all too familiar shoes.  They were the last thing Al

saw.


Chapter 8 by Jeff Strand





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