The Price You Pay

by Aidan Truhen

  But you didn’t.

  And now here we are.

  MR. PRICE YOU HAVEN’T TOUCHED YOUR COFFEE.

  No Mr. Friday I haven’t I figure I owe your friend here an explanation.

  Yes.

  Will you—okay wait you said I’m a high-functioning sociopath do you even care what I say next like if I say I’m sad and this isn’t what I expected does that matter to you or would you just like the facts and then you’ll kill me anyway?

  You may say whatever you wish. I cannot speak to how it will affect us emotionally that is tea leaf reading.

  Okay will you translate what I’m saying to Ms. Quint like directly?

  I would advise you to be most cautious. None of us would take it well if you were to upset her.

  (Dude the fuck? You think I’m a fucking idiot she has in her carry-on a gaffing hook, three guys look like murderpuppets and a yeti. She’s not someone you piss off I get that.)

  Yeah I get that.

  Then yes.

  Ms. Quint I am responsible for what happened to your daughter. I goaded a woman named Karenina. I know her and I used that knowledge to be as unkind as I possibly could. I wanted her angry so that she would make a mistake and she did. I did not imagine the magnitude of the mistake she would make. I assumed she would inflict commercial damage on your organisation and attack the server farms. It did not cross my mind that she would do what she did but it should have. It should have. I could have known if I had considered it because what I said to her was to wound her in the heart. She was my friend, and I knew just what to say.

  Friday makes Nordic sounds. It’s like the weather forecast at half speed. Quint listens and her face does not change at all. After a while she speaks. More weather.

  Friday: She says that in an international legal context as for example say the Geneva Conventions on war crimes it would indeed be possible to make a case against you for not knowing something that you could have chosen to know if you were in a position of leadership but that since you did not control the actions of this woman you cannot be considered responsible for what happened except in what you might call a contributing sense like a culture of violence but that is neither unique to you nor sufficient to merit her adverse notice or she would kill the world.

  Weather continues bad. Storms off Helsinki. Friday listens some more.

  Friday: Which she has considered very seriously but it is obviously not proportionate rationally speaking, and she is aware of that, which is why she has rejected this option. I must add we would have argued against it quite strenuously.

  Weather.

  Friday: Ms. Quint wishes to know why you sought to wound the woman Karenina in this fashion.

  Well she recently took a position in a small independent firm and that firm was by coincidence hired to negotiate my withdrawal from a particular discussion. Their position was what you might call definite with regards to my continued vitality so I took exception. I figured she would incur the displeasure of one of your meatier clients like maybe an aggressive intelligence service and I would have time to work around her.

  Friday: You are a user of our service.

  Yes of course.

  So to recap this Karenina who is also a user of our service in pursuit of ends dictated by a commercial entity and with the intention of depriving you of your life sought to circumvent the protections which Poltergeist exists to provide by torturing and murdering Ms. Quint’s child.

  Well—

  You need not answer Mr. Price the situation is quite clear.

  Ms. Quint: interrogative weather.

  Friday: expositional weather.

  Ms. Quint: the actual fuck weather.

  Friday: yeah that’s about the size of it weather.

  Ms. Quint: fucking Valkyrie Grendel’s mother screaming harpy weather.

  Friday: hugs.

  Ms. Quint: sad.

  Friday: silence.

  In fact pretty much the whole place is quiet now because the coffee machine has stopped. Out in the bay there’s a big ship doing some kind of slow turn BOGGABOGGABOG. There’s a seagull who’s pissed about something but they always are. And that’s it. As close to silence as you get in this place while Ms. Quint empties her gagging, shuddering tears into her big friend’s shoulder. Mr. Bates and Mr. Overlook look like furniture. Mr. Dory looks like topiary. None of them looks like anyone you’d want to fuck with at all.

  Eventually she stops and she goes back to sitting exactly where she was and then she speaks.

  Friday: Mr. Price she wants to know if this Karenina is still trying to kill you.

  Yeah she is. Her friends too.

  Friday: Ms. Quint is not interested in her friends this is a matter between two women.

  Well yeah they all are anyway I mean that’s kind of their whole thing at this point and I have to admit I’m also trying to kill them.

  Friday: Then Ms. Quint says she would like you please to expose yourself.

  Uh—

  Ms. Quint: stern.

  Friday: embarrassed.

  Ms. Quint: get on with it.

  Friday: Sorry that was not good English I meant not nudity but that you should reveal yourself to the woman Karenina.

  Okay.

  You will do this and when she comes for you she and Ms. Quint will be able to discuss this matter freely.

  Is this a restorative justice type deal I mean are they going to hug and then Karenina will just shoot me in the face?

  Friday: query.

  Ms. Quint: gaffing hook.

  (Silence. A gaffing hook is a very expressive object. We all look at it for a while. Finally I figure it’s time someone said something.)

  Yeah okay no translation necessary Friday okay I will do this thing but would you maybe do something for me too?

  Mr. Price it seems we will in any case be saving your life.

  Small favour. Like professional courtesy.

  Go ahead.

  Can you make a building disappear?

  OUTGOING SMS MESSAGE:

  Hey.

  You there?

  Knock knock.

  Yeah Price what?

  Is that you?

  It’s me. What do you want?

  Just checking up on my lawyer.

  You remember who you’re talking to right?

  Yeah this is my lawyer’s phone so—

  Oh right I get you. Okay fine Hi Price it’s me Sarah! Gosh fauns and ponies and yoghurt every day.

  Like I say just checking up on my lawyer.

  That’s sweet.

  It’s not sweet.

  It is sweet look at you with your little crush.

  It’s not a crush.

  Yoghurt. Every. Day. Wheatgerm and sage brush to cleanse the apartment. A biodegradable yoga mat Price.

  It’s not a crush let’s call it a residual sense like of some kind of obligation.

  You got obligations now? When the hell did that happen?

  Shit I don’t know what the hell it is let’s just say it doesn’t mean anything it’s like some kind of loose chip in my brain and I just got to ask.

  Well fine if you want to know I—I Sarah your lawyer whose phone this is—I went out the door just ahead of the bad guys man no one knows where I am not even that bitch doctor with the exceptional body. You see how hot that woman was Price? That woman was way hotter than me. It’s kind of intimidating actually to know that she exists in the same universe as me and the idea that I might have imagined I was you know the same species as someone like that it’s a little weird.

  Right okay.

  I’m probably halfway to Australia by now Price if I’m any kind of smart at all do you think I’m smart?

  Yes.

  You better fucking hope I am. You know just as I disap
pear from your life forever on my way to Australia you mind I give you a little life advice just like randomly in passing?

  Please do.

  If hypothetically you were to have sex with someone who wasn’t me-Sarah-who-is-your-lawyer-with-the-biodegradable-yoga-mat you might should avoid asking that person what they think about my situation as if you care in case they took exception to that on the basis of common courtesy and devoted some time to determining my precise location. Especially if that person was oh I don’t know insanely hot and really fucking dangerous for example.

  Yeah that would be real unfortunate I’ll remember that. You mind I ask you a professional question?

  Why the fuck not.

  So here’s a hypothetical legal scenario for you to contemplate. You personally so, you know, contemplate it closely because I really want your reaction and no one else’s. Let’s say someone with whom you have recently had a probing legal discussion during which you have really got down to it and uncovered some really remarkable and interesting things, and that person is about to seek some kind of resolution on a pre-existing matter regarding some recent overseas transactions. And let’s say your colleagues might have opinions on this and your interlocutor with whom you were just a short while ago locked in some pretty involved and let’s be honest mutually satisfactory negotiation was of the opinion that you might want to look out from what you might call a more removed vantage for any operations in the hours to come because that might be preferable in like a holistic sense. Would that present you with an ethical dilemma?

  You there?

  Hello?

  Hello?

  No Price it would not.

  Wait now I don’t know what that means. You still there?

  ALL. THE SIRENS. IN. THE WORLD. Coming. After. Me. Coming down on me. Cops like rain like fucking Hurricane Katrina like nightfall. Coming down on me in my car. I like driving in my car. Shit strong coffee in a crisis fucking Nordic civet fuck. Vapour trails is what. Drive away drive away drive drive the cops are coming.

  And by that I think I mean all of them.

  In. The world.

  This is what happens when a Nordic woman with a gaffing hook asks you to expose yourself and you say yes.

  Down the underpass. Feels safe because underpass because they have a fucking helicopter up there can you even? A helicopter for Christ’s sake. Likely more than one. Just unnecessary. All of this shit man it’s unnecessary like a tremendous waste of everyone’s time there’s just no call for all this negativity. I mean what did I ever do?

  Underpass feels like walls and a fortress but you can’t stay there you gotta come out and when you do there are just more and more cops. Man it’s like a convention or one of those scenes in movies that these days they do with computers and everything’s just a little too perfect. Underpass takes no time. No time at all. Flicker of shadow then gone like zip. Count to three and see the first cops coming out behind me.

  Jesus fuck they have a lot of guns and they are pissed.

  I did what Poltergeist asked me. I made an order through a supposedly safe server they knew Karenina had compromised.

  And she pointed at me and she said:

  ANTHRAX.

  Which I mean on one level is completely unfair because I was so careful about what strain and that may have looked like a terror attack but it was totally a targeted strike and a ruse but well you gotta put your hand up sometimes and say okay that actually was my bad.

  All the cops in the world, loaded for bear, and me in a little tiny car waaaay out in front and hoping like hell I am not about to get real fucked up. Grey road and white lines I am all about the white lines but not this kind. Holy shit I’m in a car. I’m in a car driving like pursuit like a real bad guy and I am horrible at it. Horrible. This is not my environment man this is a complex skillset you hire this the fuck in. What do I know about high-speed driving? Like twenty minutes on Grand Theft Auto before it pissed me off (INTERSECTION FUCK FUCK F— I’m alive but fuck).

  In among the narrow streets now like crazy narrow single lane one direction boyband traffic flow motherfucker like alleys and places where they hang washing over the damn road and you can shake hands from one fire escape to the next. Buildings going by so fast it’s like vertigo like falling like I should have taken the damn—no. No no. It’s okay. Okay. Just drive in a straight line. Just drive.

  Walls are closing in. Little import fits between. Cop cars are bigger, gonna lose some paint but they’re coming anyway and not just this alley but all of them five alleys side by side behind me like a fucking tsunami of cops like fucking Hokusai got a career in law enforcement.

  This isn’t gonna work. They are spreading out around me using their numbers they are putting me in a box. Little box on a screen. They are putting me in a box and the box is getting smaller all the time. They will get me and I’m gonna die and they’ll make a fucking internet meme about it. The Ballad of Jack. Foot like lead, nerves like steel, going up to glory riding an affordable Korean hatchback with a NOS booster and environmentally friendly fifteen-inch wheels. Yeah, you better run, old Italian lady with your damn olive oil in a can. This here is a hostile context for pedestrian traffic now.

  Jack be motherfucking nimble. Check behind me. (DO NOT CHECK BEHIND YOU.) I can see the Triangle on the skyline like big dumb tower architecture but way impressive somehow and in front of it like motherfuck like cops and robbers man. So many damn cops. Way in the back there I’m pretty sure that is fucking Tuukka on a motorbike and next to him in a fucking sidecar that is no doubt Fred with a long case across his back and no doubt he has a view to a kill here, in case Karenina goes soft and he just has to pop out that old Barrett and put one through my eye. Yeah okay that is fucking motivational. Foot back on the accelerator pedal. Yes. Yes but no but yes.

  I’m not Steve McQueen I mean I can hit the accelerator and the brake and on roads in this country you can expect your tires to screech at like ten miles an hour but this is different this is like holy shit. Thank fucking Christ this thing takes corners like a pole dancer. (OH SHIT BUS OH SHIT I’m fine I’m fine.)

  Gotta put your hand up for that too for Southeast Asian design philosophy right. Put my hand up for that and for having released a pretty relaxed and comparatively uninfectious anthrax on the population. I mean not that anyone’s caught it except Red Kat Bonanza and I read where he’s fine but still.

  But if I put my hand up right now someone will take it the fuck off because even without Fred man these cops are serious these are not your daddy’s donutmunchers. These are today’s version and they have a tank and a fucking fifty cal and they are looking to make the news cycle tonight. They are fucking everywhere with their air support and technology up the wazoo. I’m just a guy in a car.

  There’s the fucking superturbozoomrocket button on the dash and I’m absolutely not to push that right now but it’s looking better and better every second.

  Okay hard right and we’re on two fucking wheels now but that’s okay that’s okay. Jesus this is not okay. If I go down they’ll give me more years for this than the murders man than for all the coke. This is downright fucking antisocial even for me.

  Wonder where the doc is. Is she seeing this? Come on doc this has to be some kind of attractive. Just a little. This kind of flat-out insane has to be doing it for you.

  Wonder if that fucked-up sex was some kind of Rubicon for her too.

  Wonder if she wants to do that all again.

  Focus Jack. Focus. Follow instructions and it’ll all be fine.

  Follow instructions? You got any idea how long it’s been since I followed anything wasn’t wearing a silver microdress and heels with fish in them?

  Big red brick coming up, turn left, then we’re back on the big industrial roads. Wide and straight like an airstrip. Red brick’s got words on it like painted advertising. Michael’s. Michael’s canni
ng and preserving. Mom-and-pop, folded circa 1932. Still got the signage but now it’s a warehouse and that’s all. That’s the punch point. Doc are you watching? I’d really like to think you are. I feel we got unfinished business.

  Follow instructions Jack.

  That’s the punch point. That’s the punch point. Jesus fuck. Five.

  Follow instructions Jack.

  Four.

  Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.

  Three.

  Follow instructions. Follow instructions. Two.

  Follow instructions. Say hi to Mike the canner in heaven or hell. One.

  Follow instructions. Follow instructions.

  I do.

  Someone explodes a bomb in my asshole. Tiny Korean car is now a fighter jet.

  Out of NOS and out of sight. Breathing space maybe a minute. Heel the car over. We’re where we should be. Time to jump the fences. Suspect on foot and the good guys are closing in man.

  Breathe. Wait. Wait until they see you wait—

  STAY WHERE YOU ARE JACK PRICE YOU ARE UNDER—

  That’s French for run Jack run.

  TRUTH IS YOU CAN’T RUN and you can’t hide. There’s just nowhere to go. You see those shows where they follow someone with a helicopter and a bunch of cars and that? Well that is the bare minimum of what they can do and they are doing the max now. And I’m one guy on foot. I am done.

  Should be done. If there was any justice in the world. Should be.

  Zoom out and pretend you’re a satellite. See the world as a bright blue marble. Get the overview effect. Now zoom in and see the city, then this district, then these streets. Now you’re seeing me the way command and control sees me. The way Karenina sees me. You notice something?

  Yeah. The map ain’t the territory. In fact it’s not even close.

  Somehow the main system is getting little bits of bad information. Some of it is flat-out wrong, sometimes just a little too slow with the good stuff. Tip line’s busted up and corner cameras and ATMs are all giving them bullshit answers. It’s fog of war man I mean you bring highly complex gear in a stress situation and it’s gonna throw some artefacts. That’s just how it is. Don’t matter if you’re in Fallujah or right here at home, you need air cover. The helo is the best friend a girl has. Best friend Karenina has. It’s top of the line it’s got fucking satellite realtime uplinks and broadband live connections and frequency-shifting comms and—