The Sapphire Express (13 page)

After about ten minutes of observing the rotten fruit, I noticed that it was moving a little. Then, suddenly, the consultant started coughing like a stage-four lung-cancer patient and spewing out mucus from his mouth and nose. He seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness, but I had no patience to wait any longer, and I decided to expedite the rude awakening a little by pouring a bottle of cold water over his head and slapping him hard on his right cheek.

The humble trick worked like magic, and the consultant raised his head rapidly and looked around the van with bewildered eyes. When he saw my pockmarked face staring at him coldly, he pulled his head back like a startled turtle and shrieked, “What the fuck is this? What is this place? Who the hell are you?”

“Good morning, sir,” I said. “No, sorry, let me rephrase that. Good evening.”

“What is this shit?” he shouted and started thrashing violently in the chair.

“You can’t escape that chair, consultant. No man can, so don’t feel bad.”

“Consultant?” he asked in a surprised voice. “You know who I am?”

“Of course, I do. It’s like I’ve waited my whole life for this one night. It’s gonna be me, you, and the Econoline.”

“That’s from a fucking song. Is this some sick joke? A lousy prank? My brother is behind this shit, isn’t he? I will kill him, I swear.”

“No, this is not a prank or a joke,” I said after a moment of silence. “You murdered two girls, you piece of shit.”

After I said that, the consultant froze motionless, and his eyes almost popped out of the sockets. Then his brain caught up with his body language, and he tried to quickly regain his composure, but it was already too late. The suddenness of my opening remarks had stolen the opportunity to put on a good poker face, and I just shook my head when he said, “What…what? I haven’t done anything, man. I don’t know what you are talking about, man.”

“Do you think that you would be sitting in a shitty van in handcuffs if I didn’t know what you did? I mean, do you really think that I just picked up a suburban father and took him for a little joyride because I woke up this morning and realized that, ‘Hey, gee, I have never kidnapped a father of two, and I really need to get it done before I get too old’? Come on, man. You are a smart guy. Don’t play games with me. It’s just, so, uh, so unnecessary, so goddamn lame.”

“No, man, no, you have the wrong person. I swear to God!”

“OK, I’ll tell you what, consultant. If you lie to me one more time, I will remove your ears with a field skinner. How’s that sound?” I asked and fetched the terrifying little knife from the hunting bag.

The consultant looked at the little sharp blade nervously and said, “You are fucking crazy, man. Don’t do this to me!”

“So what’s it going to be? The ears or the truth?”

“The consultant looked at me, knowing that story time was over, and said with a deep sigh, “OK, man. What do you want? I have money, a lot of money.”

“I know that,” I said. “And I am glad that you do. I’m really happy for you, man.”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?”

“It is supposed to mean that I would have never kidnapped you if my actions would put your family’s future in jeopardy, OK? Your wife and kids are innocent, and I am happy to know that they will be financially secure after you are gone.”

“They need their fucking father, you son of a bitch.”

“They need a serial killer as a father? Someone who will one day get caught and destroy their lives and reputations? Trust me, this is a way out for you. A favor.”

“I don’t need a fucking favor. I need to go back to work.”

“You mean back to killing prostitutes?”

“No, no. No, man. I can stop doing that. I can change, I swear I can.”

I looked at him listlessly and said, “Maybe you can stop. Maybe you can even change a little, who knows. And I want to believe you, I really do. But that’s not the point here. You are in my van because of events that have already taken place, OK? It’s too late to change now, to repent, unless you have a tiny time machine hiding in your ass that can take you back to Randall’s truck stop, of course.”

“I will give you two million dollars in cash. Tomorrow. No bullshit, no questions asked, no tricks. After that, I will disappear—or you can disappear and live large in Key West, Bermuda, or wherever you want. Two million dollars. Tomorrow.”

I looked at him sternly and said, “OK, I will think about your offer, but only if you answer a couple of questions first.”

The consultant closed his eyes and said, “Ask your damn questions.”

“Well, I just want to know why you have a family. I mean, you are a cold-blooded killer, and you enjoy smashing sad faces with your silver hammer. Why not just live alone and skip the family part? Answer me honestly now, or the Condor will bite your fingers off.”

“What’s a Condor?”

“Don’t’ worry about that. Just answer my questions with brutal honesty and pray to God that you don’t have to find out.”

The consultant shook his head and said, “OK, I have a family because I want it all. I need a wife and a couple of kids because they help me to get promotions. All top heterosexual CEOs have families, and I want to be a top CEO one day. You see, the most successful people manage to have it all and still win. The losers think that a career and a family can’t walk hand in hand, but that is untrue because you absolutely need a family on the highest peak of the corporate mountain. Family means that people can trust you and relate to you, OK? You have to be special, of course, to manage it all, but it is totally doable for a man like me, or any other master of the universe.”

“So you are a master of the universe?”

“No, not yet, but I am on the right track. I am willing to be a nobody for a while so I can be a somebody for the rest of my life.”

“So, a wealthy partner at a big consulting company is a nobody these days?”

“In my book, yes, it is. I have a superior mind.”

“Well, your mind may be superior, but intelligence works better with humility than arrogance.”

“Humility never built anything.”

“Maybe, but it’s still a good life insurance policy, don’t you think?”

“Bullshit. It’s brains, patience, and perseverance. That’s it.”

“OK, granted, those are all good qualities, but in your case, they are unfortunately infected with sociopath’s fever. You know that, right? You are like the stock market. It goes up even when blood is flowing on the streets because it is a perfect sociopath, just like you. You have a family because it serves your selfish purposes, and you murder people because it fills your veins with some sick pleasure that only a man with a beast’s heart can understand. Death is more than just data, man. It’s too bad that you will never understand that.”

“But I’m a good father. I have feelings, man. I fucking cried when I saw the Blue Angels fly in perfect formation over Corpus Christi.”

“Maybe, but you are also a murderer. Don’t you forget that.”

The consultant didn’t say anything.

“But let me ask you something else, consultant. Do you love your family?”

“Of course I do. What do you mean?”

“Tell me what love is, then.”

“Do I look like a goddamn love doctor to you?”

“Just tell me. Tell me what love is,” I said and ran my thumb across the field skinner’s shiny blade.

The consultant exhaled hard and said, “OK, I can tell you that a man’s love is only activated when he is satisfied with the looks of the woman he is interested in. I can also tell you that age doesn’t matter when it comes to love unless you, of course, ask a man to marry a woman who is twenty years older than him. Love is a joke, man, a stupid illusion filled with conditions and selfish reservations of certain rights. There are always ulterior motives involved. Apart from your kids, love is never unconditional, never. It’s the body or the money, you hear me?”

“OK, fair enough, but would you die for your family? Would you cry if your wife died in a car accident?”

“This is bullshit, man. I am done with this crap.”

“Answer my damn question,” I said and pulled out the Sig Sauer and pointed it at his forehead. “Would you cry if your wife died?”

The consultant looked at the gun anxiously and said, “Uh, I…I think so. I don’t really cry, but I think I would, yes.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You are a bona fide sociopath. And that’s OK, as long as you accept that fact. It’s just that, you haven’t accepted it. Why?”

“Why? Why is your right the only right in this world? How do you even know that I am wrong? Are you a superhuman? Are you the God almighty himself, because you sure sound like him.”

“No, I am not, but there are some universal truths in this world. If you raise a man in a barrel and never teach him anything, he will still know that murdering an innocent person is wrong.”

“I doubt that,” the consultant said with a condescending sneer.

“Of course you do. You are a sociopath. You just can’t fully understand that because you are ill, and denial is part of your disease. Just try to accept that you are toxic, that’s all I’m asking here, goddammit.”

“Have
you
accepted that you fucking kidnapped someone today?”

“Yes, I have.”

“So you are a sociopath, too.”

“I am becoming.”

“So what the hell you want me to do, then? Divorce my wife? Quit my job and move to Alaska?”

“As I said, that is no longer necessary. The train has left the station, and you are, unfortunately, not on board.”

The consultant looked at me with fiery eyes, and I could see that his sociopath’s blood was finally boiling over. Then he said in a sharp voice, “You can’t fucking kill me. I am an important man. I’m not some street punk you can just kidnap without consequences. I know people, and I am great at what I do.”

I looked at him apathetically and said, “You are talented, yes. I have seen your house, and I truly respect the fact that you are a successful man. You have worked hard for your goals, and that’s something that I very much admire and appreciate. I can separate your talents from your dark side, and I believe that your greatness should be recognized even if you are a murderous sociopath. But I still have to kill you. Does that make any sense to you?”

“Goddamn, man, this is just unreal,” he said fretfully. “It’s unbelievable that you expect me to talk to you like this is a fucking business breakfast. I am in handcuffs here, and you are waving a goddamn gun at me. I mean, shit, you sit there smugly like some twisted Buddha and act like I am here to entertain you. This ain’t no goddamn Tarantino movie, man. This my life.”

“Well, I have much more than just a gun, but I hear you. You are absolutely right. It’s not fair to talk to you like this, and I am going to stop soon. I have made up my mind about the money, too. I am not going to take it. You will die in about thirty seconds, OK?”

The consultant didn’t say anything, and I raised the Sig Sauer and peeked into the chamber just to make sure that it was ready to go. When he saw me do that, he shouted, “You fucking coward! You loser! You are not a man. You are a girl with a gun. Open the handcuffs and fight me if you are a man.”

I pointed the gun at his head and said patiently, “Look, I saw that lion’s head in your office, consultant. So cool, wow. I bet you shot the beast yourself. Did you have to change your boxers after the hunt was over because they were full of semen?”

The angry man looked at me dubiously and asked, “What? What are you saying, man? I paid fifty thousand for that trip.”

“Yeah? And why didn’t you fight the lion with your fists? Why didn’t you put your gun down and wrestle the fucking cat, huh? You know aikido, don’t you? You could have used the four-direction throw or some shit. Or are you not a man? Are you a girl with a gun? Are you a loser? Maybe I should shoot you with a bow and put your head on
my
wall.”

The consultant looked defeated and said quietly, “It was a legal hunt. Hunting is legal in most places of the world, in case you didn’t know that. And they actually need someone to manage the wild animal population in Africa.”

“Yeah, it is legal all right. And it probably should be, but only for people who have some goddamn respect for nature. I mean, why don’t you hunt a deer or some other animal that is not on the verge of extinction? Why don’t you eat the meat and use every part of your kill like the rest of the hunters in this country? And when it comes to your argument about population management in Africa—that is some delusional bullshit, man. Those animals have been there for hundreds of millions of years, but now, all of a sudden, they need your rich, spoiled ass to manage them? Maybe you didn’t know this, but those creatures were happy and thriving until we arrived with our guns, inflated egos, and disappointingly tiny penises. I mean, are you a total moron, or do you just want to intentionally believe in bullshit when it serves your selfish purposes?”

The consultant didn’t say anything, and I shouted, “Look at me, consultant! Are you so goddamn special that you need to kill a lion for fun, cut its head off, and leave the rest of it to rot? Are you that special, priest? I guess you are. But, wait! You are even more special than that. You are so special that you can now murder defenseless women, too.”