The Price You Pay

by Aidan Truhen

  No indeed Mr. Hart of course.

  Thank you Professor Langley.

  Not at all Mr. Hart. You appreciate we’ll need to keep tabs on him for the first few weeks?

  All understood. As I said on the phone I think it’s best if we introduce him to the new lodgings. He may—they often do—turn them down and it’s important for obvious reasons to allow him to return here if that’s what he prefers but I have high hopes because the rooms we have at the moment are very fine, I mean not luxurious by any means but somehow filled with a positive energy. You won’t often find a churchman speaking in those terms we don’t care much about energy in the general way but I’ve spent some time in California and I’ve no doubt become corrupted. Can you hear it in my voice?

  No sir to me I must say you sound entirely London.

  Ah well very good. My sister tells me she can hear it in every word, she is quite scathing.

  Ah well sisters.

  You have one?

  Sir I have four.

  A wealth, Professor Langley.

  A wealth of constructive criticism, Mr. Hart.

  Quite so quite so. Ah and is this our friend?

  Yes, Mr. Hart, this is Mr. Crisp. Not his original name I’m afraid but we have a list and we choose a name for everyone and then of course if they recall their own they can revert.

  Good day to you Mr. Crisp. I hope we shall be fast friends.

  Uhh.

  I’m afraid he’s a little shy Mr. Hart.

  Uhhhnnn.

  That’s quite all right Professor I do understand. Here my dear fellow lean on me, that’s it. Now then you and I, we’re going to be friends. I’m going to help you. Help you get everything you need and get you out in the world again, on your own two feet.

  Uhh?

  Yes.

  Uh?

  Yes.

  Lucille?

  Yes, my friend. Exactly. Lucille.

  LUCILLE!

  Yes. Let’s get you settled in.

  NO POINT CALLING TUCKER. He’ll know what’s coming down. He probably knew before I did. Likely Karenina called him, told him I was in the shit. Those two go back. Likely Tucker’s breaking bread with the Seven Demons right now giving them all my shit he can. Part of the agreement. Reason he doesn’t know everything I do. Safer for everyone if we don’t trust.

  Copy shop by the old picture house. The picture house closed last month. No more Bogart and Bacall late nights, no more Jaws or Jawas or jocks sitting through romcoms because they’re actually in love. No more of any of that. Just a closed building and a copy shop where I left my case after meeting Linden, told them to scan what I took and dump it to a fresh email address. No way for Karenina to find that: like looking for a single piece of floating plastic in the Pacific trash vortex. What did I take from Linden’s? Told you you weren’t paying attention. Remember: there was that business with historical cinema and then I got a little physical and then—yeah you missed it again.

  Look: I took the appointments diary off of Oliver’s desk. Paper diary because an outfit like that they do not want a digital record that someone could maybe break into or email to themselves. Crypto all you like, password protect and partition or whatever the hell. Truth is that if you don’t want something to get shared, you don’t put that fucking thing on a local computer because computers are all about the sharing. That is not just how they are made it is what they are made of. Linden knows this so he has paper. Some temp every night must copy the appointments from the master into two more books: Dorothy’s and Oliver’s. He or she sits up late in the library room they have in that place and does what they do and they get paid almost nothing and have no idea what any of those names mean and they get fired regularly so that they do not figure it out or get used to the rhythm of the place and you have to respect that. That is old school and it is wise.

  Downside is that now I have stolen the book and they cannot take that back. They can change everything in the future but I do not care about that I only care about the past. This begins in the past and it begins recently. So who did Linden see this month? He saw…the Andersons, Jan and Don, about inheritances. He saw the Liebowicz kid about emancipation. He saw three corporates and blah blah blah my aching head Jesus this guy has a healthy practice and a varied clientele. Who did he see that might have an interest in Didi Fraser? Kinda no one. No one at all. So who did he see had no business being there?

  Three names are tagged NC, new client. One of these, 90 per cent, is my problem. Start there okay so: Sean Harper is a rich kid. Liz Crane is getting divorced. Father Roy Maxton who the hell knows why he’s there it doesn’t say, so you’re gonna make some assumptions but it’s just as likely he’s got parking fines or he needs to get his church re-zoned. Who is Liz getting divorced from? What has Sean done and to whom? No idea. But it all adds. It doesn’t add up yet but it adds.

  The good father got no cash for the Seven Demons unless he’s a lot higher in the church than you’d think. Search his name: no. Look at this fucking guy, he’s Saint Francis without the Snow White birdies. Off the list. Why off the list? Because every real-life visit to people on this list increases the chance they figure where I am. Triage, people. Best is a single strike.

  No Father Maxton leaves two.

  Liz. Liz Crane is divorcing some huge fucker, not huge like physical he’s actually kinda round and small but monetarily he’s like a lead weight on a rubber sheet and all the money just rolls down on top of him. Liz doesn’t mind all the money but she wants to bathe in it by herself now thank you. Liz is young and pretty, you look at her picture you’re gonna say she’s maybe Indian by way of ancestry like maybe Goan but that is a whole sackful of assumptions so my feeling would be don’t. Tom Crane is not young and not pretty. Liz has served her time before the mast and wants her—actually I don’t fucking know what she wants metaphorically speaking I don’t know anything about ships or naval history. She wants to stop having sex with her blimp husband and move the fuck on. More power to Liz. Why would Liz want Didi dead? Is it possible that Didi is in some way a problem for Liz and her divorce? Like maybe Didi’s great-grandson cleans the pool at Tom Crane’s house and knows what Liz’s O-face looks like from personal experience and proximity?

  Gonna talk to Liz.

  Sean. Look at Sean. Sean is a nice guy up to a point by which I mean that Sean inherited money but basically doesn’t feel the need to make any more of it. Sean does work at a soup kitchen and puts those weird fucking cotton wraps in his hair all like different colours so he looks like a table mat. Sean does music therapy with kids. Sean saves whales. Fuck Sean and all his works. Fuck him so hard in the eye. Sean makes you ashamed until you remember that Sean has just under a billion dollars. Sean is Bruce Wayne and this charitable shit is his Batman. Lucky Sean. If maybe papa hadn’t cut down half of a rainforest somewhere and found oil or whatever then maybe Sean could spend his time getting laid like any respectable young rich kid but there is some earned fucking guilt here is what there is. Gonna talk to Sean.

  Liz, or Sean. Sean, or Liz. Toss a coin.

  SHORT DISCUSSION WITH A LIMO GUY. He ends up in the trunk under a blanket. I did offer him money it’s not like I’m on a spree here but the negotiation did not proceed expeditiously to a reasonable conclusion. Dude seriously when a man is serious and you’re not you just got to get out of the way. Next lifetime, yeah? His damn hat won’t fit, whatever, improvise. Muss myself up, grab the phone from his pocket.

  Yeah, he’s really dead. I killed him for no better reason than I wanted ten minutes with his fare. It’s not a thing. Feels kinda unartistic and redundant, but you can’t make an omelette.

  Hi Liz my name’s Justin and I’ll be your driver today.

  Hi Justin.

  Can I get an Aaaaargh! from you Liz? It is drive like a pirate day and I can give you a discount I realise it is not really
cool in a limo but this is what my boss is saying and I gotta would you mind?

  Aaaaargh Justin. Arrrrgh! Is that okay?

  Yeah Liz that’s just great. You give great pirate if I may say.

  So do you Justin are those your real teeth?

  Yes in fact they are. Well these are a little bit man-made obviously mostly some sorta ceramic but yeah these are my teeth I just had them put in some kind of 3D printing thing. A friend of mine did the design and then you just go right on in and they scan your mouth and zap that’s it like a couple of hours they say I can eat steak later not that I do because I’m vegan. Can you do the pirate thing one more time I didn’t get a great picture?

  Aaaaaargh!

  Thanks Liz.

  That’s okay Justin, you’re kinda cute. I think I like making little noises for you.

  Aw now Liz you’re making me blush and you a married woman with a ring like that size.

  Don’t let the egg fool ya Justin I am washing that man right outta my hair, yes I am. He is gone. So let me just give you one more Aaaargh and then maybe we talk while we drive, Justin, cos I got places to be but maybe after I been there I might seriously want to find out what it’s like to be a small seaside town mercilessly pillaged by buccaneers is what I’m saying.

  Hell lady you can’t say things like that when a man’s getting out into the traffic, I near about killed that guy on the cycle.

  Aw, Justin, don’t tell me you’re no fun.

  Liz I can honestly say I am all kindsa fun.

  So you gonna plunder my treasures, Captain?

  Oh, hell yeah I am, but you gotta promise me there ain’t no marque and reprisal happening on your coastline, you get me?

  Uh…

  Sorry yeah they made us read this dumb book on pirates is all. I mean is the husband really outta the picture? Because I can’t afford to alienate no millionaire shipping magnate or nothing, they might send the British navy after me and hang me like Blackbeard.

  Oh sugar he is gone like the wind. He is so much in the past tense. I got a lawyer and I’m gonna be not like Kardashian rich but I am never gonna work nor want again. I am moving this ass to Europe and I’m gonna camp out in Cartier’s front room.

  Man it’s that easy?

  Oh it was not easy there was some disgusting sex I went through to get here but trust me Justin you’re going to be real pleased about that on account of the things I have been wanting to try out on a man who doesn’t look like a Thanksgiving turkey in his underclothes. You got tattoos Justin?

  No I do not.

  That’s good because that whole turkey thing is for real and right now tattoos make me think of poultry stamps.

  Hey this neighbourhood we going to it’s not far from a regular client of mine.

  Does she talk like I do Justin? Am I gonna have to share you?

  No ma’am she does not and she woulda made a fine accompaniment to your turkey husband I’m thinking on account of looking a great deal like chestnut stuffing at least what of her I ever saw which was you will understand not naked. She’s dead now though. Didi Fraser her name was, lived just over yonder. You ever know her, ma’am, seeing this is your neighbourhood?

  No, I didn’t. What’d she die of?

  She was murdered Liz, is what it is. Stone cold killed. Who’d do something like that?

  Real-life pirates, I guess.

  Yeah. I guess.

  Justin I gotta tell you that is some mood killer you got there.

  Yeah I’m just now realising that myself.

  Listen you can just drop me off at the Museum, okay, and if I want you later I’ll call the office.

  It’s my last fare, Liz, I’m sorry to say. You want to make one more Aaargh for me, just for the memories?

  Honestly Justin I think maybe I won’t. You’ve got the pictures and now suddenly it feels kinda weird.

  It woulda been fun, Liz, but I’m thinking you’ll get yourself a better class of man. You take care now.

  Thanks, Justin.

  Bye Liz.

  And she’s gone. Liz won’t die because of me, and I won’t have sex with her, which is kinda my penance for Justin the limo guy but also means she won’t completely freak the fuck out when she finds out real Justin was stabbed in the heart and she took a drive with his murderer. You gotta do something for your fellow human beings occasionally when you can. Plus honestly: not that into her.

  I’m going with my gut and say she didn’t know Didi Fraser.

  DUMP THE LIMO, PUT ON A DAYGLO. Get down in the pipe in the park and find some stinking fucking mud. Walk the streets like that in a hard hat. Ain’t no one wondering what you do for a living. Hitch a ride with a garbage crew for a few bucks: Sean Harper’s street has garbage too. Everyone produces garbage except those weird zero impact fucks who can’t figure out their mere existence in a city like this is an eco footprint the size of a village in the Andes. Whatevs.

  Figure I was gonna bang on Sean’s door and say we found something in the sewer with his name on it, like a letter, like a letter from Didi Fraser. Figure that was my plan, but maybe it wasn’t. Don’t need it anyway. Standing on the back of the truck in my dayglos, driver nearly flat runs over the doctor yes that doctor the doctor she of the amazing eyes and the anaesthetic walking with a Saluki answering to the name of Tycho. She’s going into Sean’s place, leaves the dog with the commissionaire. Swishes into the elevator. Saluki is perfect for her, says exactly what she is: she’s refined and she’s beautiful and she will chase you down but she has to see you first. Don’t I know it. Swish swish. The doctor, she’s got really remarkable legs, and I have to admit that talking to Liz like that while it was a professional choice was also not entirely unpleasant. Fight and flight and fucking all got their place in a person’s head and they do on occasion get crossed over and confused, and I have killed and I have run like hell and there is some evolutionary part of me that’s pretty sure I should breed now and breed plenty in order to secure my DNA and that woman there is strong and she is an alpha and that kind of thing is as close as you get to guarantees.

  Elevator doors close. Bye doc. Hello Tycho. Aw, look at you, sorry man I hope it’s okay just I love dogs. Where I grew up we’re all kennel people you know? Not breeds refined like this one, this is a Saluki, but still. Dog like this needs taking care of for sure.

  Yeah, well this one ain’t yours.

  That’s true I don’t got a dog right now not in the city, but I know—hey wait, he’s got a little twinge there on the chest you see?

  No I don’t and you better—

  Naw wait man I ain’t screwin’ around. That lady—hang on lemme just—yeah okay it’s here. That’s okay Tycho…there. Aw, shit.

  What? He okay?

  Well yes and no. I mean he’s fine but he ain’t okay. Dog like this you got to worry mostly about heart cancer.

  The fuck?

  Yeah, they get heart cancer would you believe thirty-one per cent of them? And this fella here he’s got a little polyp there in the meat here that’s not a good sign. You know the owner?

  Nope. Jeez.

  Listen I gotta go I got places to be but you see her, you tell her to get this dog to a veterinary specialist, like a cancer doctor. She’s gotta be a rich woman she’s in this building, owns this dog, and that’s gonna save Tycho here because this kinda thing you catch it early and you get things right you can treat it now. It’s like miraculous shit they can do. But you tell that woman for god’s sake. Don’t say some asshole in a dayglo right you say some vet came by gave you a number to call is what. In fact hang on yeah I know a guy, I did some work for him back six months ago, hang on—

  And there you go. Walk away. Walk away now, down the street, stinking of pond shit and doing my good deed, saving that dog.

  No there’s no fucking tumour you can feel in his chest. W
hat are you an infant?

  Sean Harper is the client. 99.9 per cent. Won’t help now if I kill Sean. I mean I will kill Sean anyway but he’s so far from the point right now it’s almost sad. I’ll kill him later for satisfaction and maybe I’ll talk to him first to find out why all this happened.

  But now I got a pin to stick in the map.

  Plus later I’m gonna take the doctor’s doggie for a walk.

  KONG FUZI SAID: You want to define the future you must study the past.

  This is the kind of crap coffee traders tell one another, and one of the things that they do is they say Kong Fuzi rather than Confucius so they know they’re smarter than you are.

  Sitting on a park bench studying the past. Ancient history now. 95.

  Back in 95 there was a guy. Supposed to be the best solo sniper in the world. Most any sniper gonna use a spotter if he can, this guy doesn’t. Doesn’t much use technology either. One of those Ukrainian log cabin motherfuckers like the original Kalashnikov, lives for the stag’s hesitation and feels the wind changing in his piss. These are the guys who made Stalingrad the funfest that it was back in the day, and before that they sat under sheepskins and snow and they fucked Napoleon’s shit right up as he tried to walk back from Moscow. Direct-line descendant of every awful wartime thing ever happened, is what I’m saying, and deep sniper magic from the Steppes. Don’t believe in magic that’s fine. Any sufficiently advanced terrifying murderous instinctual and acquired skillset is indistinguishable from magic is what. This guy was magic. They called him Volodya. Never had another name. It means Universal Ruler.

  So for a while this guy ran the Seven Demons. Killed with them partied with them ate with them. Did not sleep with them because those people do not sleep. Then he hit fifty and he said that was enough. Retired with all the money in the world and never spent any of it because he never cared about it. Lives in a shack in the middle of nowhere. That is the thing you got to understand about these people. Sure they make money but they do not care about it, they care about being the Seven Demons, or about being that badass, or being able to kill whoever they like. The new Demons are the same. They got varied interests, but those interests are not money per se.