by Jake Devlin
“Amber says hi, as usual, Pam.”
“Cool. So what was so funny about the Grand Canal?”
“Oh, that. Mariel and Shelby are going after another black widow, who's killed four super-rich husbands, the last two by drowning, one in their pool in Antigua and the other in a hotel bathtub in Kiev. The irony just struck me, since she's now visiting Venice.”
“She's never been prosecuted?”
“Nope. We got the second and fourth ones recorded, but we didn't and won't turn that over to the authorities; can't reveal that we've got bugs in the mansions or hotels.”
“But you must have showed it to the client.”
“Nope; he just came to us without a referral, no closing needed. He was pissed that she killed his father and will inherit everything, so he wants her done by Sunday, before the will is read in Lisbon.
“His father was a repeat client, think we did eight or nine hits for him, always as The Deleter, so that's the name Mariel and Shelby are using. And once Larry takes over his father's businesses, I think he'll be another repeat client. He's got an even shorter fuse and a bigger ego than his dad did, if that's possible.”
“Short fuse, big ego, probably a pretty thin skin, too, right?”
“F'sure; they usually go together. His dad once wanted to put a contract out on a guy who claimed he had given blood diamonds to his third wife and touched the necklace she was wearing to make his point.”
“Probably brushed her boob as he did.”
“Could be.”
“That'd really tick someone like that off.”
“Got that right, Pam.
“Okay, back to – in '77, first job we did for another repeat client, we took out an old guy in Patagonia, brought his head back to the client.”
“His head?”
“Yup; delivered it in Cairo.”
“And the rest of the body?”
“Sharks; never found.”
“Why the head? A trophy?”
“Nope – at least I don't think so. We did seven – no, eight more jobs for the same client, all old men and all in that area: Argentina, Paraguay, Chile. Maybe it was nine more, or ten. And we delivered all those heads, too.”
“All in Cairo?”
“Nope. He used different reps and different drops for each job, but we knew it was him.”
“Who him?”
“An Israeli businessman.”
“Mossad?”
“Nope – well, maybe a cutout for 'em, but we couldn't dig up a solid connection. It's possible, maybe even probable.
“One of his companies was doing some early DNA research, so we thought maybe he was one of those guys who thought” –
“Hitler was still alive.”
“Bingo.”
“Heard about 'em in my CIA days, investigated a few, too.”
“Yeah. All his targets looked similar to each other and to Adolf. So could be. But we never found out for sure.”
“Too bad.”
“Yup. We tried to get our security systems into his homes, but no luck there; he went with a competitor who low-bid us, inferior system components, always needed fixing. Ah, well.”
“You get what you pay for.”
“Y'got that right, Pam. Anyhow, he was another satisfied client, had no problems as we raised our assassination fees over the next couple of decades.
“So you wanna look at those files now?”
“Sure, right after we let Stevie Bruce and Ginny May play a bit.”
“I'd like that.”
“Let's go.”
- 52 -
June 22, 2013
6:57 a.m. local time
Undisclosed location
“I sought I vas going verrückt.”
“Ferrooked?”
“Sorry, Joel; crazy. I sought I vas going crazy. I saw mushroom clouds, I saw ze whole vorld a vasteland, people on fire screaming und running srough schmoking ruins, people killing each udder over a piece of stale bread or a tiny chunk of moldy meat, dead bodies everywhere. Und zen zere were ze polizei” –
“Police?”
“Ja, ja; police, but dressed like soldiers, shooting everybody, vomen und children too, tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat, just – oh, vat is ze vort?”
“Indiscriminately? Randomly?”
“Ja, ja, randomly, tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. Und zey had zese huge wehicles, like Panzer – ach, scheiss, vat is zat vort?”
“Tanks?”
“You're velcome – for vat?”
“No, no, ze vort is – I mean the word is 'tanks.'”
“Oh, ja, ja, tanks. Tanks.”
“You're welcome.”
“So tanks, viz big guns zat vould shoot big bullets at short und tall buildings und explode, und ze buildings collapsed, viz people on fire, screaming und jumping out of windows.”
“And you were in the middle of this?”
“Nein, Rona. It vas like I vas vatching it on a big screen. Und zen zis big face vould come on ze screen and say sings like, 'Anyvon who does not turn in zere veapons vill be shot on sight' or 'Resistance is fatal' or 'All hail ze glorious von vorld government' or 'If you like your mentor, you can keep your mentor.' Und zose vorts vould flash on ze screen venn he said zem. Und zen I vould vake up in a cold schvitz – ach, sorry. Vat is” –
“Sweat?”
“Ja, Rona; tanks. In a cold schweat. Und zis vent on for years. I schtill haf zem, eefen after I figured out vat zey are.”
“When did you figure that out?”
“After ze Vorld Trade Center vas attacked. On ze TV, zose pictures vere just like my nightmares, und” –
“So that sort of snapped it all into focus for you?”
“No, Joel, not at first; it took a few more years. In 2004, March, I vas cleaning up my lab” –
“In the Azores still?”
“Ja, ja. Und I found a safe in den Unten- – ach, vas is ze vort? Ze rooms unter ze ground floor.”
“Basement?”
“Ja, ja, basement. It vas all dusty und dirty. It looked vaguely familiar, but I did not know ze – ah, ah” –
“Combination?”
“Ja, ja, combination. But ven I schtarted twisting ze dial, it just came to me.”
“Out of the blue?”
“Nein, Rona; it vas very dark down dere.”
“No, Doc. 'Out of the blue' means spontaneously, suddenly, it just happened on its own.”
“Ah, ja, ja; it yust happened. Und I found a whole stack of journals inside. Und ven I opened zem, zey vere in my handwriting. But I had no memory of writing zem.”
“What was in 'em?”
“Ze whole history of what happened, from the Cuba missiles up till 1999, ze very day I killed Fardunkoff.”
“In that World War Three timeline?”
“Ja, Rona, ja, ze whole sing. I had written in zem every day from ze first day of ze var, ven I vas 22 years old, so I had everysing.”
“But wait, wait. That doesn't make sense. How could they survive a whole change in history, the whole timeline?”
“I do not underschtand zat myself, Joel. But zey did. Und ven I schtarted reading zem, I saw zat my nightmares were really actual memories. Und ze face on ze screen was Fardunkoff's or” –
“Wait, wait. He was born in – wait one – ah; here it is – 1908, so he would have been 91 years old in 1999.”
“Ja, ja, but he died in 1976.”
“In that World War Three timeline.”
“Ja, Rona, ja. Heart attack. Or so zey said.”
“Wait, wait.”
“Ja, Joel? Vat?”
“Let me get this straight. World War Three started in 1962?”
“Ja, ven Fardunkoff fired ze first missiles from Cuba.”
“And that war lasted how long?”
“196 minutes, a liddle over sree hours. Washington, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Atlanta, New Orleans und Miami gone in ze first twenty minutes; Dallas, Denver, Los Angeles, San Francisco und San Diego in t
he first thirty; London, Paris, Rome und all ze rest of ze major Vestern capitals viped out in the first hour. Over a billion people killed in ze blasts und anudder billion und a half of radiation sickness in ze next year. Fardunkoff got his Vun Vorld Government over ze six hundred million who survived.
“And then that lasted until 1999?”
“Ja, ja, ven I vas finally able to send zat bomb back to 1954 und kill Fardunkoff.”
“So people had to endure this Orwellian police state for – um, 99 minus 62 – ah, 37 years?”
“Ja, ja; under Fardunkoff's bastard son, Vladimir, after 1976.”
“Vladimir Fardunkoff? More grist for the Guggle machine.”
“No, no; his last name changed. Look for Vladimir Pupin.”
“P-u-p-i-n?”
“Ja, ja; he vas a colonel in the GKB.”
“So” –
“Vait; I am sorry. Zat vas his name in zat timeline, ze udder vun.”
“Not ours?”
“Nein – no. Here he is called” --
“Hold it, guys; I'm getting a headache. Let's take a break.”
- 53 -
June 18, 2013
2:32 p.m. local time
St. Tropez, France
“Finding anything in there, Pam?”
“Oh!”
“Sorry; didn't mean to sneak up on you. Old habit.”
“Think I'd be used to that by now.”
“Maybe I should start wearing a bell.”
“Maybe” –
“No, no, no, Pam, around my neck.”
“Oh, I” –
“If I wore one there, it'd be ringing all the time, especially the way you look right now.”
“Should I put it back on? I just like how the sun feels out here.”
“No, no, no, you're fine. Well, more than fine, actually.”
“Why, thank yuh, suh.”
“Yup. So anything in there?”
“Not much; pretty thin file. But it's clear that Hoover thought he was a commie; lots of notes in the margins, same handwriting.”
“Cramped, almost illegible?”
“Yeah. Like this one, next to a paragraph about the guy having dinner with a black congressional staffer in the House cafeteria, 'Nigger equals commie,' with an equal sign.”
“When was that?”
“Um – ah, here we go. '8/16/53.'”
“Yup; Hoover was not only a commie-hater, but a racist, too.”
“Gee, ya think so?”
“Well, duh. So was LBJ.”
“Well, duh, Jake; double duh.”
“Remember his comment about his 'War on Poverty,' part of his 'Great Society'?”
“Which one? He made so many.”
“Oh, this one took the cake. He said, 'I'll have those niggers voting Democratic for the next 200 years.'”
“No, really?”
“Yup; said it to two governors on Air Force One.”
“Hadn't heard about that one. But I did hear that he said, 'These Negroes, they're getting pretty uppity these days,' and something about giving them a little taste to quiet 'em down.”
“Yeah, he was one vulgar, racist, contemptible President, hated the NAACP and loved the KKK.”
“And look where the War on Poverty got them over there. Been what, fifty years or so?”
“About that; deliberately set up and mismanaged with the goal of keeping people down while pretending to help them out. Hell, even FDR had warned about welfare becoming a narcotic.”
“But Clinton did welfare reform, didn't he?”
“Sort of, but he was so beholden to his puppet-masters that those so-called 'reforms' only scratched the surface. And now Obama has even reversed most of those, as HIS puppet-masters demanded.”
“So who are these puppet-masters, Jake?”
- 54 -
March 16, 2014
10:07 a.m. local time
Bonita Beach, Florida
“So just as a total speculation, Ro, maybe that Chinese” --
“Watcha looking at, old man? You like – oh, ow! Leggo!”
“Sorry, sonny; I didn't quite hear you. Could you repeat it for this old man?”
“Hey, ow, leggo my wrist!”
“No, no, sonny, repeat what you said. My hearing ain't what it used to be. I'm old, remember?”
“I – I – ow! Leggo!”
“Nope, not what you said. Now just focus and repeat exactly what you said … exactly. One chance, then I start breaking fingers.”
“Ow, ow! Okay, okay. I asked what you were looking at. Ow!”
“Close, but no cigar. One more chance. Think hard and tell me what you said, verbatim.”
“Verb- – ver- – what's 'at mean? Ow!”
“Well, Ro, looks like we've got an intellectual genius here.
“Let's do it this way, sonny. Tell me exactly what you said; just say it again, exactly.”
“Ow! I don't remember exactly. Ow! Leggo!”
“Okay. Here's what you said, verbatim, which, just for your edification – oops; another big word – for your education – too big? Okay – means 'exactly,' 'Watcha looking at, old man?' Right, Ro?”
“That's what I heard, Gordy.”
“Does that ring a bell, kiddo?”
“I guess – ow!”
“Is. That. What. You. Said?”
“Yeah, yeah; it's what I said, okay? Shit.”
“'Shit'? You want to use that kind of language in front of a lady?”
“Ow, ow!”
“Where are your manners? Nope, too vague. Where are you from?”
“Uh, Chicago.”
“Ah. That explains it. Now you be quiet while I speak to your girlfriend. No, no, no, don't wriggle; it only hurts you more.
“Young lady, how old are you?”
“Uh, 19.”
“And is this your boyfriend?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And how old is he?”
“Uh, 22, I think.”
“And you're here on spring break?”
“Yeah.”
“And who decided that you would wear that suit?”
“Uh, I did; he likes it.”
“Well, I have to admit you look good in it, very good.”
“Uh, thank you.”
“And if you would lift your sunglasses so I can see your eyes, please?”
“Like this?”
“Very good. I must say, you have the most vacuous blue eyes I have ever seen.”
“Uh, thank you.”
“Do you agree, Ro?”
“Absolutely; totally vacuous.”
“Now, sonny, I'm going to give you three pieces of advice, and I suggest you pay very close attention to all of them.
“First, when you bring a girl to this beach who looks like your girlfriend there and is wearing such a skimpy bikini, you have to expect people, both men and women, to look at her, even to ogle her; second, when you throw a punch, don't telegraph it; and third and finally, get your fat butt and her well-formed one as far away from this beach as you can in thirty seconds, or I'll come after you, and when I catch you, I WILL break your fingers, all of them, one by one by one by one.”
“Ow, ow. What” --
“Just a little reminder. Now get! And don't even think about looking back.”
“Okay, okay. Sheesh. C'mon, Darla.”
“Just wriggle it while you run, sonny; that'll help.
“You know, Ro, for a musclebound guy, he doesn't run very fast.”
“Nope. But he's not looking back.”
“She runs nicely, though.”
“Now, now, Gordy.”
“You can appreciate a Rembrandt without wanting to own it, Ro.”
“I know, I know.”
“Wouldn't waste that phrase on him; he'd probably have no idea what a Rembrandt is.”
“Or what 'appreciate' means.”
“Got that right, Ro.
“And did you catch her reaction to 'vacuous blue eyes'?”<
br />
“She sure took that as a compliment.”
“Definitely vacuous. Figured 'meretricious' wasn't even worth the effort; that'd go way too far over her head.”
“You're probably right on that.”
“She's definitely got a case of BBTBS.”
“Of what?”
“BBTBS. Big Boobs Tiny Brain Syndrome.”
“Oh, Gordy, that's a good one. Going in the book?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. But back to that missing Malaysian airliner, you said something about the Chinese?”
“Oh, right. Just as a speculation, total speculation, maybe that Chinese ship that reported hearing pings last week” –
“Right.”
“Yeah. Suppose – and again, just speculation – suppose they just dropped a couple of pingers and then reported hearing them, in order to divert as many ships and planes as possible down into that area to search, get 'em away from the South China Sea, so they could maybe invade Taiwan or let North Korea fire on South Korea or some other aggressive action.”
“You think that's possible?”
“Possible, but who knows how probable? It's got as much chance of being true as any of the other conspiracy theories that have been floating around, like the plane being hijacked and flown to Diego Garcia by the CIA to get the patent knowledge those twenty or so engineers from that semi-conductor company in Texas might have.”
“Yeah, I heard about that one. Or going after something in the cargo. And the alien abduction theory.”
“And the black hole or meteor one.”
“Oh, something about some Illuminary prior knowledge.”
“Illuminati.”
“Oh, right; sorry. Illuminati. Something about some clues in some pop song that came out over a year ago.”
