05.14.2008 / EP. 9
To Die is a Good Thing
“Just a hired gun, lady,” the man said. He turned to Kerry, who was holding his head in his hands. “Turn around and lean against the wall.” The man spoke softly and slowly. He appeared unemotional, almost uninvolved, transported from a remote time and place. This is business for him, thought Milly. The man sighed and placed the barrel of the gun against Kerry’s head. “Was there something you didn’t understand?”
Kerry put his palms against the wall.
“Who do I shoot first, you or the girl?” the man asked.
“You aren’t paid to kill anyone,” said Milly. She couldn’t guess what the man wanted, but murder wasn’t part of it.
“Tell us what you’re after and get out,” Kerry said.
The man considered. “I think the girl first. That’s basic courtesy. And she won’t die quickly, which is incentive for you to talk.”
Kerry: “About what?”
“The break-in,” said the man. “The reason why you’re here, why you tied the girl to the bed, why the other girl scampered to an espresso place across the road and will be back in a minute, why you’re back from the dead.”
“You know a lot for a simple thug,” said Kerry.
“If that’s what he is,” said Milly.
“What break-in?” Kerry asked.
“He’s not going to like that,” Milly added.
“She’s right,” the man said. He rubbed his jaw. “First, I shoot the girl through the knee for pain. Second – ”
“I’ll talk.” Milly yawned.
“What do you know?” the man said.
“They drugged me, but I’ll answer your questions. Let me up. I have to clear my head.”
“Maybe dizzy is better for my health,” said the man. Kerry started to say something, but the man interrupted. “We’ll let you up,” he told Milly, “And put this dimwit on the bed in your place.” He turned to Kerry. “The keys to the cuffs,” he said. “No, I’m the dimwit. They shouldn’t have trusted me with this job. The keys are sitting on the table.”
“Who’s ‘they’?” Milly asked. The man didn’t reply. In precise, logical steps, he released her and handcuffed Kerry to the bed.
“Let’s hear your story. If I like it, you can go,” the man told Milly. But Kerry shouted and the man turned towards him. Milly lifted a chair over her head and brought it down hard against the man’s skull. He fell and didn’t move.
“Is he dead?” asked Kerry.
“You care?” Milly replied. “Men always underestimate me.”
“I wonder why. Let me up,” said Kerry.
“I don’t think so. First, who was this guy?”
“Check his wallet.”
“He could come from a family of coal miners. He might be a king, a football star, janitor, economist, or poet. His name doesn’t matter. Now he’s mineral water and slag. Bury his wallet with his bones. I meant where does he figure in your scheme, how was he involved in the burglary?”
“You keep returning to the burglary. I had nothing to do with it.”
“A pity. I could believe the gunman was an actor you hired. You’d be a clever man. I’d confess all sorts of things. How I came to be here tonight, the person who called me, and why. Most of all, why. Then you’d have no more use for me. Or him. We’d disappear into a lake and you’d return to your job of creating a President out of the Governor. Was that the plan? If not, I’d thank the gods that he walked through the door. We don’t believe in fate or coincidence, do we, you and I. But as we’re talking about fate and coincidence, you forgot to tell me why you and Carrie burgled the Governor’s offices.
“Did we do that?”
“Who else then?”
“I have no idea. That’s why we brought you here,” said Kerry.
“You and Carrie don’t win any charm contests,” Milly replied.
“I faked my death to investigate a plan to assassinate the Governor. It seemed like a good idea.”
Milly nodded. “I agree. The best way to vanish is to die.”
