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you the rest of the day off when you and your children are attacked by a maniac, so she
decided to take them all home to recover from the trauma. And since Weiss was still out
there somewhere, we decided that I had better do the same, and come home to protect them.
So I waved them away into traffic and started the long and weary walk back to where I had
parked my car.
My ankle was throbbing and the sweat that ran down my back irritated the ant bites, so in
order to take my mind off the pain I flipped open Weiss's notebook and paged through it as I
walked.
The shock of that picture of me was past, and I needed to find out what it meant  and
where it might be leading Weiss. I was reasonably sure it was not a mere doodle, something
he had absentmindedly scratched out while talking on the telephone. After all, who did he
have left to talk to? His lover Doncevic was dead, and he had killed his dear pal Wimble
himself. Besides, everything he had done so far had been pointed at a very specific purpose,
and without exception it had been a purpose that I could do without quite happily.
So I studied the drawing of me again. It was idealized, I suppose  I could not remember
noticing that I had such clearly defined washboard abs when last I looked. And the overall
impression of a vast and happy menace was, while perhaps accurate, something I tried very
hard not to show. But I had to admit he had captured something here, possibly even suitable
for framing.
I went through the other pages. It was quite interesting stuff, and the drawings were good,
especially the ones that featured me.
I was sure I didn't look that noble, happy, and savage, but perhaps that was what artistic
license is all about. As I looked at the other drawings and began to get an idea what it was
all leading up to, I was also quite sure that I didn't like this, no matter how flattering.
Not at all.
Many of the drawings showed ideas for ways to decorate anonymous bodies in the spirit of
what Weiss had already done.
There was one that featured a woman with six breasts; where the extras would come from
was not mentioned. She was wearing a flamboyant feathered hat and a thong, the kind of
costume we had seen at Moulin Rouge in Paris. It hid almost nothing, but made everything
seem so glamorous, and the effect of the sequined bras that barely covered all six breasts
was absolutely riveting.
The next page had a letter-sized piece of paper wedged into the binding. I took it out and
unfolded it. It was an airline schedule from Cubana Aviacion, printed from a computer and
listing their flights from Havana to Mexico. It was tucked in with a drawing that depicted a
man wearing a straw hat and holding an oar. A line had been drawn through it and next to it
in bold and neat block letters was written,  REFUGEE! I shoved the Aviacion printout
back in and flipped the page. The next page showed a man with an opened body cavity
stuffed with what appeared to be cigars and rum bottles.
He was propped up in a vintage convertible car with the top down.
But by far the more interesting drawings  at least to me  were the series featuring one
strong central image of Dauntless Dimpled Dexter. It may not say a great deal about me that
I found these pictures of myself so much more compelling than the ones that featured
butchered strangers, but there is something endlessly fascinating about looking at drawings
of yourself you've discovered in a homicidal psychopath's notebook. In any case, it was this
final series that took my breath away. And if Weiss actually created his depictions, it would
take my breath away literally and forever.
Because these, done in much more detail, were taken from the film loop that showed me
working on Doncevic. They were accurately copied, showing almost exactly what I
remembered from seeing that video so many times; almost. In several of the frames, Weiss
had sketched in a slight change of angle so that the face showed.
My face.
Attached to the body doing all the chopping.
And just to underscore the threat, Weiss had written  PHOTOSHOP underneath these
pictures, and underlined it. I am not really current on video technology, but I can put two
and two together as well as anyone else. Photoshop is a program for manipulating film
images, and you could use it to alter the images, put in things that don't belong. I had to
assume it could be done just as easily with video. And I knew Weiss had enough video to
last for several wicked lifetimes  video of me, and Cody, and gawkers at crime scenes and
Dark Passenger knows what else.
So he was clearly going to modify the clip of me working on Doncevic so that my face
showed. As well as I was coming to know Weiss, or at least his handiwork, I knew this
would not be a make work project. He was going to use this to make some lovely piece of
decoration that would destroy me. And all because of an hour's frolic with his sweetheart,
Doncevic.
I had done it, of course, and rather enjoyed it, too. But this seemed like cheating  it was
unfair to put my face in after the fact, wasn't it? Especially since, added afterwards or not, it
would be more than enough to start a series of very awkward questions coming my way.
The final drawing was the most terrifying of all. It showed a giant and wickedly smiling
Dexter from the film loop raising up the power saw, projected onto the facade of a large
building, while below him on the ground crouched what appeared to be half a dozen or so
ornamental corpses, all adorned with the sort of accessories that Weiss had used on his
other bodies so far. The whole thing was framed by a double row of royal palm trees, and it
was such a beautiful picture of tropical and artistic splendor that it might have brought a
tear to my eye if modesty hadn't interfered.
It all made perfect sense in a Weiss-y sort of way. Use the film he already had, subtly
changed to feature moi in a starring role, and project it onto a very public building so there
could be no doubt at all that we were seeing Decapitating Dexter at work. Throw me to the
sharks and at the same time create a large communal art work for all to admire. A perfect
solution.
I arrived at my car and sat in the driver's seat, looking through the notebook one more time.
Of course it was possible that these were just sketches, a paper and pencil fantasy that
would never see the light of day. But this had all started with Weiss and Doncevic making
public displays out of bodies, and the only difference here was one of scale  that and the
fact that at some point in the last few days Dexter had become Weiss's art fair project. The
Mona Dexter.
And now he planned to make me a great public works project, too. Dexter the Magnificent,
who doth bestride the world like a colossus, many lovely corpses at his feet, brought to you
in living color just in time for the evening news. Oh, Mama, who is that large and handsome
man with the bloody saw? Why, that's Dexter Morgan, dear, the horrible man they arrested a
little while ago. But Mama, why is he smiling? He likes his work, dear. Let that be a lesson
to you  always find a worthy job that keeps you happy.
I had learned enough in college to appreciate the fact that a civilization was judged by its
art. It was humbling to think that, if Weiss was successful, future generations would look
back on the twenty-first century and weigh its accomplishments with my image.
This kind of immortality was a very tempting idea  but there were a few drawbacks to this
particular invitation to eternal fame. First of all, I am far too modest, and second  well, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]