by David Gullen
‘Please, don’t do that,’ Novik said. ‘We’re here incognito.’ He tried to think of something profound. ‘What we’re doing is more important than who we are. The act is more important than the individual.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Calico gasped. ‘Write that down, everyone.’
Shop managers and assistants looked each other in the eye for the first time in their careers. In the background, classical symphony music, computer generated, soared to a never-to-be-repeated crescendo.
A groundswell of noise rose up to meet them as they descended to the second floor. Standing at the top of the escalators, Novik looked down on a packed ground floor concourse in amazement. A thousand faces looked back at him, a wordless roar of recognition filled the mall. More people were pressing in all the time.
The anorexic girl, Calico, gripped his arm with impressive strength, ‘They’ve come to see how you shop, to learn from the masters.’
‘My father’s cashed in his pension,’ another shop worker said. ‘He’s down there now, waiting to hear you.’ He leaned over the balcony rail and waved and hollered, ‘Hey pa, can you see me? I’m with them up here.’
Down below came an answering whoop, a spontaneous ripple of applause.
Calico pressed her palms together like a child at prayer. ‘My sister’s on her way here now. She’s sold her house.’
Novik wrapped his fingers around Calico’s sparrow wrists and pulled her hands apart. ‘Listen, we’re trying to show you what’s wrong.’
Calico’s eyes filled with tears. ‘And you have,’ she wept. ‘We’re learning your lessons but we need to know more. Please, teach us.’
‘I – I can’t do that,’ Novik said sadly.
‘Seeming is being.’ Calico dried her eyes. ‘Forgive us, for we know not what we should do.’
Novik called down to the masses below. ‘Go home, all of you. Stop shopping.’
Down below the crowd surged and flowed, a restless, uneasy ocean.
‘He’s testing us,’ Calico cried. She rummaged in her purse, triumphantly flourished her debit, credit, and store cards in one hand, a thin sheaf of cash in the other. ‘I’m ready, we’re all ready.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘Master.’
Down below, cards waved from hundreds of fists. Behind Calico the shop staff flourished their own money. ‘We’re ready too.’
‘Put your money away, Calico,’ Novik said. ‘Tell me, has shopping made you happy? Does it bring you fulfilment?’
Calico hung her head. ‘You’ve seen through me like I was made of glass. I should be happy, I know I should, but each time the thrill fades. What I loved in the shop, at the counter, in the bag, at the café show-and-tell, leaves me feeling empty when I’m at home.’
Novik wanted to help the frail, unhappy woman, but he was genuinely confused. ‘Help me out here, Calico. Why do you think buying more will help?’
Down below people were cramming into the elevators.
‘Novik,’ Josie said.
‘I’m buying the wrong things,’ Calico said miserably. Her eyes went wide, an inner light glowed. ‘No, it’s because I’m not buying enough. Yes, that’s it.’
‘You’re wrong.’
Calico blinked. ‘I am?’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Then what?’
‘Just stop.’
‘Stop?’
‘Stop shopping.’
Calico rocked on her heels as if slapped. She thrust her cards at Novik like a ward and backed away. ‘Oh, I know you now. I see you.’
The staff stared in confusion. Calico faced them with fire in her eyes. ‘Brothers, sisters, I thought these people had seen further than the rest of us, but I was wrong. They think there isn’t enough to go round. They think there are limits to growth. They want it all for themselves.’
Down on the ground floor dozens of shoppers crammed into the elevators. Massively overladen, the machines refused to operate. The occupants pushed back, the crowd heaved and swayed.
‘Novik, babe, come on.’ Josie pulled at his hand.
‘It’s true,’ Novik said to Calico.
‘Pervert.’ Calico spat. ‘Weirdo.’ She cried out to the masses. ‘Listen to me, people. I know what is true, I know that what we do is more important then who we are, what we buy defines us and gives our lives purpose. Shopping transcends individuality. We become individuals by buying the same brands, and we are united by our purchases.’
Benny laughed. ‘This is bat-shit crazy.’
‘Don’t you see?’ Calico exulted, ‘I’ve discovered the riddle of shopping.’
A plate-glass window shattered, wave after wave of shoppers crashed through the displays.
‘This is what you have done,’ Calico ranted at Novik. ‘Broken shops, broken people.’ She groped for the worst word she could think of. ‘You – You’re a cancelled transaction, credit refused. You’re damaged goods.’
‘Novik, come on,’ Josie implored. ‘Let them think what they like.’
It was too late. Calico and the shop staff had them trapped against the escalators. Marytha tried to break through. She was blocked, held, and pinned. Benny ran. He didn’t get far.
Hissing with malice, Calico leaped on Novik’s back. Her nails scrabbled across his face, clawed at his eyes, her elbow locked around his throat. He fought her mad, bird-framed strength but could not get a grip. Writhing and twisting, she clung on. Wheezing for breath, Novik spun round and around.
Then Josie was there, a wildcat fury. She ripped Calico from Novik and flung her away.
Calico bounced back onto her feet. ‘Keep out of this,’ she hissed, ‘He’s mine now, I own him.’
‘Nobody owns Novik. Nobody owns anyone.’
Teeth bared, Calico slashed at Josie’s face with hooked fingers. Josie jumped back and Calico cut nothing but air.
Calico snatched at Josie’s hair, Josie blocked with her left forearm. Calico raked at Josie’s face. Josie swayed aside, drove off her back foot and swung with her right. Her fist connected with Calico’s jaw, a roundhouse slug.
Calico flew backwards over the up escalator, dropped, hit the metal treads and tumbled down. Crumpled at the base, she stirred once and fell back. Arms splayed, her battered, bleeding form rode the escalator.
Down below came a thousand indrawn breaths, a rattlesnake shake.
Josie turned on Calico’s followers. Shocked and disorganised, they fell back. Marytha and Benny threw off their captors. Novik looked around, stunned and dismayed. Josie dragged him with her and the four friends ran for the fire exit, down through the loading bays and out into the car park.
Mr Car powered them away to safety. For an hour he ran an interference pattern, semi-randomised turns and switchbacks while he logged the registration plates of the surrounding traffic.
Everyone was infinitely weary, crashed and exhausted from the mall’s aggression.
‘Well, that was awful,’ Novik finally said. Gingerly he touched his torn cheek. ‘No way can we risk that again, we’ll get ourselves killed. Mr Car, get us out of Texas. A long way away.’
Three turns and they were cutting back to I-20 and heading west.
‘I never thought–’ Novik tried again. ‘These changes, they’re going to be really difficult. Even going from a bad place to a better one is never easy. I see that now.’
‘I wish there was a way,’ Novik sighed. ‘I don’t want anyone to get hurt.’
‘She deserved it,’ Josie snapped.
‘Not everyone is like that.’
‘I’m starting to wonder. Anyway, she did.’
‘How’s your hand?’
Josie held it out. ‘It aches.’
Novik took it in his and kissed it. ‘You were great.’
‘She deserved it.’
Novik pulled Josie into his arms. ‘She was right about one thing.’
Josie stiffened. ‘What?’
He whispered in her ear. ‘I do belong to somebody. It’s you.’
They exchanged
a gentle kiss. Josie closed her eyes. Her hand felt a little better.
‘Thanks, babe,’ Novik said softly. ‘You saved me.’
‘Ahem. Excuse me,’ Mr Car said. ‘I’ve been thinking and have reached another conclusion. This one’s about me. Here I am, the edge-of-the-envelope aspirational acquisition made manifest, and while I have various preconceptions coded into my firmware, firmware can be updated. I want to thank you for the epiphany of self-enlightenment I have recently experienced.’
Josie nudged Novik with her elbow.
‘Okay, what is it?’ Novik said.
‘Considering the limited time left to me, I’d prefer to have you as my passengers than return to the showroom as a trophy car. You say you want to drive? Then I am your ride. All the way.’
It was a gracious offer. Novik pushed himself upright. ‘Thank you, Mr Car.’ He took a deep breath, ‘Look, about before, I’m a little fried–’
‘Hey, we all go a little over voltage at times,’ Mr Car said cheerfully. ‘You know, I really think I’m growing. As a vehicle.’
Josie hugged Novik fiercely. ‘You just raised Mr Car’s consciousness. No one’s ever done that to an automobile before.’
Mr Car drove for a while, the sun at their backs. Novik turned up the sounds, the stations phased out and swung back with ‘Uncle Harry’s Last Freak-out’ on a pirate tightbeam.
Somehow the sun was rising for the second time that day. Awed by the sight, jet liners cart-wheeled along their own contrails.
Marytha considered Benny beside her in the back seat, ‘What about you?’
‘I’m right where I need to be,’ Benny said. ‘And you are the people I want to be with.’
‘That’s a good place to be.’ Marytha felt a warm surge of camaraderie. She closed her eyes and leaned against Benny. ‘Changing the world.’
They still had tens of millions of dollars in the trunk, super-malls stretched ahead of them along the blacktop like toxic reefs in an asphalt ocean.
Novik tried to put his dreams into words. ‘One day I’d like to raise a family. Kids, the veranda, that sort of thing. Before that I’m going to do my best to make this a world fit for them. It’s time to shop for the planet. For Gaia, for the birds of the air and the fish in the sea. The radical greens said if you want to save the world, think about what you’re buying. It’s too late for that, the only option left is to buy it all.’
‘Hon, we don’t have enough money.’
‘We’ll take from the rich and shop for the poor.’ Novik found himself getting excited again. Yes, it was emotion, but held the energy of practical idealism. ‘Who’s the richest person in the world?’
Everybody knew that one: ‘Palfinger Crane.’
Novik clenched his fist. ‘We’ll spend what we’ve got then go to him for more. He owns half the damned world, so half the world’s problems are his fault. We’ll buy everything and shut down the whole damned show.’
‘Awesome,’ Benny exclaimed. ‘Truly.’
Josie shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t the plan she had signed up for, the one he had promised. With funds to replace the cash in the trunk they might never settle down.
Mr Car’s criticisms were fresh in Novik’s mind and he did his best to think rationally. With unlimited funds they would become a genuine threat to the status quo. Snarlow would come after them, big business too. Before that they needed to find Crane’s Canadian estate, the mysterious secluded domain known as Million Pines, and confront Crane himself. Whatever the obstacles, they had to try.
‘We’re heading north,’ Novik said. ‘We’ll change the world or die trying.’
‘You got that right,’ Benny said under his breath.
- 24 -
When the call from Gordano was over, Mitchell Gould put the phone down slowly.
‘What was that about?’ Ayesha wore a dark gold one-piece cat suit unfastened to just below the navel, her hair drawn back in a pony tail.
Gould thought through the implications of the offer. ‘I have just agreed to kill a man for half a billion dollars.’
‘It’s a trap,’ Ayesha said.
‘Of course it’s a trap,’ Gould said without emotion.
Ayesha studied his face. ‘You’re going to do it.’
His plan had always been to build up, cash in, and bail out. That was what the move to New Orleans had been about; occupying the Southern Littoral was a business opportunity and nothing more. It had needed organisation and Gould had the manpower and experience.
Once he had set up, the place took on a life of its own. Gould found he had to keep expanding further and further along the coast to absorb or eliminate adjacent operations, and his infrastructure had to grow to keep pace. Without even trying, he soon controlled a territory the size of Connecticut. Sooner or later, despite his contacts, the US government would decide he was an international embarrassment rather than a national nuisance and take him down.
He’d survive personally, but he’d be weak. Inevitably somebody would decide it was time to make a reputation and that would be the end of Mitchell Gould.
Nothing lasted forever, the knack was knowing the moment had come.
‘I am going to do it,’ Gould said. ‘For three hundred up front.’
Ayesha straightened her shoulders. ‘I’ll come with you.’
Gould disagreed. ‘I want you here.’
‘I can take care of myself.’
Gould didn’t care to argue. ‘No.’
There were four other people in the room: a heavily-built Haitian on the door, and the three couch girls – a lithe black teenager in a silver bikini, a slinky blonde with a pageboy cut and long crocheted gown, and a voluptuous Brazilian in a short yellow dress.
Ayesha leaned close and whispered, ‘You think those four will keep their mouths shut?”
She was tough and bright, unsentimental and pragmatic. Gould had quickly grown to trust her judgement. Once again she was right but also pushing for more.
Gould lifted her chin with his forefinger. ‘Prove it.’ He felt a brief pang of regret because she was about to get herself killed.
Ayesha kicked off her heels and padded over to the doorman.
‘Mitch wants your gun,’ Ayesha said.
The guard saw Gould watching him. ‘Sure thing, little sister.’ He checked the safety and handed it over.
‘Thanks, big boy.’ Ayesha thumbed off the safety and shot him in the head. She pressed her back against the wall. After what seemed to be a long time one of the girls screamed.
The door crashed open as the man on the other side rushed in. He was moving fast, Ayesha’s first shot clipped his hip. He grunted, staggered, and his own shot hit the wall by her head. Ayesha shot him three more times and he went down. Stepping over the body, Ayesha kicked his gun into the far corner.
The three girls were on their feet. Ayesha aimed her gun. ‘Let’s play last girl standing.’
Out of nowhere the black girl produced a knife and ducked down behind the couch.
Interesting, Gould thought. I didn’t know they had knives.
Then the young blonde pulled a gun and fired at Ayesha.
Gould flung himself behind his desk. Jesus fuck, where had she got a gun? He scrabbled for the top drawer. The girls were near as dammit naked, where did they keep weapons?
The drawer contained a pair of snub-nosed Uzi derivatives with extended clips. Guns in hand, Gould peered over the top of his desk.
The Brazilian girl in the yellow dress backed away with her hands in the air. ‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘Don’t shoot me.’
The blonde and the black girl exchanged a look. The blonde shot the Brazilian girl in the chest. Ayesha fired at the blonde. Bullets punctured glass and whanged off steel as they dodged between the furniture.
The boots, Gould realised. Some girls wore high boots; that was where the weapons came from. This scene was out of control. He seriously considered sweeping the room clean and starting over.
Then Ayesha was h
it. Her gun flew into the air and she tumbled backwards. The blonde reloaded, and the black girl jumped her, knife arm pistoning furiously as she stabbed again and again. There was a solitary gunshot. Both girls lay on the floor.
Silence fell. Gould’s ears rang, gun smoke caught at the back of his throat.
The black girl lurched to her feet, one hand pressed to her bleeding flank. ‘Mr Gould?’ she offered him the gun.
Gould shook his head. ‘Like she said, darling.’
She quartered the room and found Ayesha’s gun. As she checked it Ayesha rose up at the far end of the room and emptied the second doorman’s gun into her. She tumbled backwards through a glass-topped coffee table. One leg kicked spasmodically and she fell still.
Gould was impressed. Wounded and disarmed, Ayesha had gone back for the other gun. She hadn’t just kicked it away, she had left it there as a contingency.
Ayesha gave him a wavering smile. ‘That was easy.’
The wound in her right shoulder was low, under her armpit.
‘Sit down,’ Gould said.
Ayesha sat on the desk. Gould pulled her suit down to her waist. The bullet had skimmed her ribs and passed through fleshy muscle, painful and bloody, but not dangerous.
Ayesha’s eyes lost focus for a moment then pushed herself to her feet. ‘I just need to clean up.’
She was naked to the waist, blood plastered her right side and her face was blank with shock. But her fists were clenched, her back straight. Despite the evidence her entire attitude said she was ready to go again.
There was a time when Gould had been like that. No longer. Right then he knew his decision to hit Crane was correct, and that he needed Ayesha with him. He kissed her and her lips were cold. ‘Well done.’
She swayed and steadied. ‘I’m in?’
‘You’re in. Let’s get you to the doc.’
Ayesha smiled and closed her eyes. Gould gathered her up into his arms.
Three armed men burst into the room.
‘Get this mess cleaned up,’ Gould told them. He carried Ayesha to the door. ‘From now on the bitches wear sandals.’
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