Brazen Virtue

he’d gone beyond their pitiful scope of understanding. He could still feel pain. Even now the gashes in his leg throbbed. Soon there wouldn’t even be that. He knew the secret, and the secret was all in the mind. He’d been born for greatness. Just as his father had always told him. That’s why none of the small-minded wimps who went to school with him ever came close to being his friends. The truly great, the truly powerful were never understood. But they were admired. They were revered. The time would come when he had the world in his two palms, like his father. He’d have the power to reshape it. Or to crush it.

    He gave a quick giggle, then dug into his stash. Jerald never smoked at home. He knew the sweet smell of pot was easily detected and would be reported to his parents. When he had a yen for a joint, he took it outside. He eschewed cigarettes. Both of his parents were very active in nonsmokers’ rights. Any trace of smoke, tobacco or otherwise, would besmirch the purity of Hayden air. Jerald giggled again as he pulled out a prime joint laced with flake. PCP. Angel dust. He smiled as he ran his fingers down it. A few tokes of this and you could feel like an angel. Or Satan himself.
    His parents would be gone for hours. The servants were all tucked away in their wing of the house. He needed a lift. No, not needed, he corrected. Needs were for ordinary people. He wanted a lift. He wanted to fly sky-high while he listened for the next one. Because the next one was going to suffer. Jerald took out his father’s service revolver, the one Captain Charlton P. Hayden had shot so many geeks with in good old Nam. His father had won medals for shooting strangers. There was something glorious about that.
    Jerald didn’t want any medals, he just wanted a kick. The big kick. The teenager in him opened the window before he lit the joint. The madman booted up the computer to search.
    G RACE SPENT HER FIRST night on call torn between amusement and amazement. She was glad that she could still be surprised. Working in the arts and living in New York didn’t mean she’d seen and heard everything. Not by a long shot. She took calls from whiners, from dreamers, from the bizarre and the mundane. For a woman who considered herself sophisticated and sexually savvy, she found herself stumbling more than once. One man calling from rural West Virginia recognized her as a novice.
    “Don’t worry, honey,” he’d told her. “I’ll talk you through it.”
    She worked three hours, a light load, and had to fight back giggles, simple shock, and the lingering discomfort that Ed was waiting downstairs.
    At eleven, she took her last call. Tucking away her notes—you never knew what you could use—she walked downstairs. She spotted Ed first, then his partner.
    “Hello, Ben. I didn’t know you were here.”

    “You get the whole team.” As he checked his watch he noted they were well past the latest time their man had struck. Still, he’d give it another half hour. “So how’d it go?”
    Grace settled on the arm of a chair. She shot Ed a look, then shrugged. “It’s different. You ever get turned on listening to a woman sneeze? Never mind.”
    As she spoke, Ed watched her. He’d have sworn she looked embarrassed. “Anyone make you uneasy, suspicious?”
    “Uh-uh. For the most part you’ve got guys who are looking for a little companionship, some sympathy, and I guess in an odd sense a way to be faithful to their wives. Talking on the phone’s a lot safer, and less drastic, than paying for a prostitute.” But it wasn’t anything to get on a soapbox about either, she reminded herself. “You’re getting it all on tape anyway, right?”
    “That’s right.” Ed lifted a brow. “Is that what’s bothering you?”
    “Maybe.” She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. “It feels odd knowing the boys at the station are going to be playing back what I said.” Always resilient, she shook it off. “I can’t believe what I said myself. I had this one guy who does bonsai trees, you know those little Japanese things? He spent most of the call telling me how much he loves them.”
    “Takes all kinds.” Ben passed her a cigarette. “Did any of them ask to meet you?”
    “I got some hints, nothing hard-line. Anyway, in my orientation session this afternoon I got some tips on how to handle that, and a lot of other things.” She was relaxed again, even amused. “I spent the afternoon with Jezebel. She’s been doing