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Break-Up (30) UNITED STATES—One-time detective Devon Zorba was jarred. It was as if he’d pulled a trigger and devastated a life that was already tossing on the spindrift toward the rocks. The question like herd of pink elephants, like the smell of burnt pita bread, hung heavy in the air. What had caused the hideous punishment to The Leader’s body? Time would not erase the horrific picture of the mutilated genitalia. Badly healed carnage between The Leader’s fish-belly distended white legs. The question burned in Devon Zorba’s eyes –unknown to him—his face was acquiring a candor ...

Break-Up (27) UNITED STATES—“As I said before, the killer saw something so traumatic that it triggered cognitive dissonance. He blotted it out of his mind or thought he was dreaming. What they saw before fleeing the crime was that the victim of the hammer-blow was someone identical to himself. Identical to the twin brother given up for adoption that the killer had no idea existed. “You see,” Zorba concluded. “Identical twins have the same DNA and that is why you, according to treaty with the joint federation, received notice of the DNA finding.” Zorba in a pique of kamikaze daring...

Break-Up (24) UNITED STATES—The green-hued hands, led by two bony thumbs, viciously pinched Zorba’s windpipe for one fierce second, that felt like five in front of a firing line, and then dropped at the side of the bulbous form of the figure whose shriveled head of a sinful raisin lolled to one side of the mountain of pillows that propped The Leader on the bed. He heaved a sigh borne from a bronchial grotto. The members of the family, all clad in identical plaid shirts, the majority of a tan and red pattern, one blue and black the sole exception in their ranks, drew close to the figure wh...

Break-Up (18) UNITED STATES—Detective Zorba was battleworn, so battleworn, by the fear and fatigue of the forced journey to “up here” from the Underground Cities, so worn that only through gaps in his feral awareness intruded the harsh knowledge that he’d been stripped of the title detective. He lay still in the farmhouse bunk and all his limbs hummed. The limbic system had over-dosed on an onslaught of questions and resulting unknowns, that taunted him. The tables had been turned; Zorba was customarily in the comfortable position of asking all the questions instead of receiving them....