CHRONICLE OF A ???? FORETOLD
From the Secret Journal of the Black Centipede, as told to Chuck Miller 
DeMilby gave me a wide plastic smile as he reached to shake my hand."Good to see you again, Mister Centipede," he said, as jovial and innocent as you please. He gave no indication that he was part of a mysterious conspiracy to destroy me. But, of course, they never do.
"DeMilby," I said, more or less politely. "Percy."
"Hey, Centipede," said my wretched Boswell. He wasn't looking at me. He had noticed Anonymoushka and was busy giving her the once-over. Percy was a young man whose fancy turned to anything female that strayed to within ten feet of him.
As for my faceless companion, I felt her bristle as she recognized the actor she had come to Zenith to find. I just hoped she could control herself, and wouldn't do anything to put DeMilby on the alert. I knew the odds were not in favor of it.
"Well, now," Percy said, "who's your friend? I don't believe we've met." He wasn't actually drooling, but it wouldn't have taken much. The Russian assassin was very shapely, I must admit, and with a fake face plastered on, she was more than enough to get Percy's hair-trigger hormones working.
"We certainly have not," she said coldly. "And we are not doing so now, you little pizda s ushami."
"Huh?"
"That's Russian, Percy," I interjected quickly. "It means 'nice-looking young man.'"
This was a lie, of course. My Russian was rusty, but I was pretty sure I knew what it meant. It was a very insulting and unladylike phrase. Also rather apt.
"Really?" Percy grinned. "You have good taste, sister. What are you doing with this sad sack?" He hooked a thumb at me.
"I am this man's attorney," she said, "And as if that weren't bad enough, it so happens that this masked individual and I are to be wed at some point in the future. So I will thank you to keep your insults where they belong, zalupa."
I had no idea why she would say that, but the look on Percy's face was priceless, so I decided to play along.
"That's right, Percy," I said. "I have decided to tie the knot, take the plunge, get spliced, slap on the ol' ball and chain."
DeMilby was standing there with an expression of deep puzzlement on his face. I didn't know just what his game was, or what he knew, or who he was involved with-- but I figured anything that put him off balance was worth pursuing. I had no idea what to do with him. An immediate confrontation seemed unwise. He certainly wasn't the mastermind behind whatever the hell was going on, and I didn't want to risk putting the real villain on the alert.
Mag DeMilby was not an impressive-looking man. Twenty years and a hundred pounds ago, he might have given Douglas Fairbanks a mild run for his money, but these days he wouldn't even cause Lionel Atwill any significant discomfort. His skin was pasty-- too much time spent on sound stages and in gloomy speakeasies and other dens of iniquity-- his eyes were watery and red-veined, and he smelled of gin. Not my idea of an evil genius, or even a particularly competent henchman. But times were hard, and good help is always difficult to find.
"You're joking!" Percy exclaimed. "Whatever happened to that Abigail Early you were tied up with in Hollywood?" He turned to Anonymoushka. "What's your name, ma'am?"
"I am called Vionna Vernet," said my "fiancee." "I come from a long and uncanny line of similarly-named individuals, both past and future."
"I've never heard of you," Percy said.
"Then we are even, since I have never heard of you. Actually, I have an advantage, because I don't care about you, either."
Percy blinked and shook his head, then quickly turned his attention to me. "Centipede, we need to talk about our publicity exercise. Mag is here, as you can see. We can be ready to go at any time, but you need to be briefed."
"Are you insane, Percy?" I asked sincerely. "Are you aware that this city has been attacked by a small fleet of disappearing dirigibles that had pictures of Doctor Almanac on them?" I saw no reason to mention anything that had gone on at the Benway Building.
"Is that what that was?" Percy asked. "I saw all the fire trucks and everything. What's the big deal? That kind of stuff happens around here all the time. Last week it was Professor Necrosis and that zombie-ray thing of his; the week before that, Adrian Countenance dumped all those lobster/porcupine creatures into the reservoir; and so on and so forth. And in most of those cases, I might add, even though you were the one who saved the day, nobody saw you do it. How can you expect to keep up a good public image if you do all your good works in secret? Were you in evidence anywhere when these dirigibles of yours were attacking?"
"I blew one of them up!" I said.
"That's swell. Who saw you do it?"
"I did," said Vionnamoushka, or whatever she was calling herself at the moment.
"Great," said Percy, ignoring her and addressing me, "but what about Joe Average on the street out there? People need to see you DO something every now and then. That's what I've been trying to get through to you. And it ain't just me, Mister Hearst says the same thing."
I made a remark about Mister Hearst that drew a giggle from Anonymoushka, a scowl from Percy, and a gasp from Mag DeMilby.
"Yeah," Percy said indignantly, "maybe he is one of those, but I don't see you turning down his dough."
He was right. I had gouged Hearst pretty mercilessly, and had no qualms about it. Actually, I had plenty of personal income from the business interests I had appropriated from my grandfather. I didn't need Hearst's money at all, so I earmarked it for certain special projects. For example, I had hired a small team of men to attend various high-class auctions around the country and bid against Hearst and his agents for artwork, antiques and all the other expensive doo-dads the loathsome newspaper magnate loved to acquire and ship to his castle in San Simeon. I also made hefty contributions to candidates and causes that Hearst opposed. I quite enjoyed being his personal, secret gremlin-- and sticking him with the tab.
I fully intended to confess to Hearst one day-- preferably when he was on his deathbed, if he ever had the common decency to pass away-- but not until I had done a lot more damage.
"Listen," Percy continued in a shrill voice, "you agreed to this whole thing, and you can't back out on me now. I've got everything set up for tomorrow."
I knew what he expected me to say next, so I said something different:
"Okay. Whatever you say, Percy."
He eyed me with unconcealed skepticism. "Huh? Wait a minute, I haven't even finished arguing you into it."
"I can't take the humiliation. You're too much for me, Percy. I might as well throw in the towel now and spare myself the ignominy."
"What the hell are you trying to pull?" he demanded. "You're trying to pull something."
"Why should you care? I'm going to do what you want me to do. What more could you want?"
"You're trying to pull something," he repeated.
"I'm not denying that," I said, ostentatiously ignoring DeMilby. "But it might not have anything to do with you. Just relax. Call my office later with the details, and I'll meet you tomorrow."
"I don't have your phone number."
I took a pad and pen from my pocket and scribbled a number on a sheet of paper. I tore it out and handed it to Percy. It was one of my auxiliary numbers. I could have it disconnected after Percy used it.
"You're trying to pull something," he said for a third time.
I shrugged. "Don't worry yourself. Even if I am, there's nothing you can do about it. Now, my beloved and I have much to do. We're picking out china patterns today. Just get me the when and where, and I'll be there. Looking forward to it, sincerely."
Percy sighed. "Okay," he said warily, "I'll see you then. It was nice meeting you, Miss, er, Vernet."
"That is a damnable lie," said Anonymoushka. "I could feel you molesting me with your eyes. Knowing you can never grope me must be excruciating for you. You have my sympathy, but only to a certain point. As for me, I take nothing positive away from our encounter."
Percy shook his head, more in puzzlement than anger. "Okay... Uh, take care, Centipede."
I shook hands with Percy and DeMilby and we left them standing there in the lobby of City Hall, wondering what the hell I was up to. I was trying to pull something, alright-- I just didn't know what it was yet.
Out on the street, Anonymoushka turned to me and said, "What are we going to do now?"
"We're going back to the Benway. I'm going to ask you some detailed questions, and you're going to tell me everything you know." We had not yet had a chance to resume our discussion about her motives, and I needed to get that taken care of as soon as possible. We could do it while we waited for Stanley's call.
"We are not going to pick out, china, then?" She sounded oddly disappointed.
"Certainly not. Why the hell did you tell Percy you and I were going to be married?"
"Because we are," she replied flatly. "I have foreseen it. There is nothing that can be done to circumvent it. We are doomed. Believe me, I don't like it any better than you do. Few men indeed are less suited to the toils of the connubial abyss. I would as soon surrender my maidenhead to a prehistoric beast. But we must bow to the inevitable, smile, and think of England. Perhaps, like poor Leda's swan, there is more to you than there actually is, but I would not bet the butter-and-egg money on it."
She was adamant, and seemed to know what she was talking about. For the first time since this whole thing began, I felt genuine fear.
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