by Lee McGeorge
She stood obediently. “What shall I do?”
“Push him,” he said. The girl leaned her weight onto the winch and pushed the crying Gjokeja. She still had the gold chain fastened between her breasts and wore nothing but stockings and nail polish. There were whip marks across her buttocks. Once in the lounge he stopped her by the dining table and pulled out a chair. “Sit here.”
Paul moved to within inches of Gjokeja. His good hand was against his face, palm out to shield himself. “I should kill you now,” Paul said. “For what you have done to Ildico, I should kill you now.” He raised the karambit and grabbed Gjokeja’s wrist to slice the blade across his palm. Gjokeja shrieked and clasped his hand into a fist. He jerked his head backwards as though trying to build momentum, to escape by throwing his weight around inside his supporting frame. Blood dripped onto the marble floor. A minor injury, nothing serious, but enough to prove that Paul could hurt him if he wanted.
He took a seat beside the nurse and took a moment to stare at her breasts. They were cartoonish, like two halves of a football stuffed under the skin. “What are you?” he asked. “Are you a prostitute?”
“I’m Mr. Gjokeja’s private nurse and carer.”
“Nurse and carer?” He looked her over again. A naked girl with massive fake tits and a gold chain between the nipples, saying in all earnestness that she was a nurse. “Look. I’m going to talk to this man.” Paul tipped the blade towards Gjokeja. “I will hurt him if he doesn’t answer truthfully… and I will hurt you too. Do you understand? If he doesn’t answer me, I’ll hurt you too.”
The girl said something in Albanian. She was controlled. Gjokeja made wincing noises and hummed squeals. For a man who was supposedly a ruthless criminal he sure was a pussy when the tables were turned.
“You sent men to find me,” Paul said. “Who are they?”
Floriana translated. Gjokeja’s skin was going grey. He didn’t answer. He shivered and trembled. Paul spun the knife on his finger a few times then grabbed it in his fist.
“Zhega…” Gjokeja coughed. “Miklos Zhega.” He spoke words rapidly in Albanian.
“It is a man, his name Miklos Zhega,” Floriana said. “He is with three other men and a Romanian detective… Before was detective, not now, not any more detective, I don’t know how to say in English.”
“A detective…Who is the detective?”
“Latis… Corneliu Latis,” Gjokeja said.
Paul felt his heart lurch. “Latis… He did say Latis, yes?” he asked Floriana directly.
“Detective Latis came here at Christmas,” she replied. “He said he knew how to find you.”
Paul got up and paced the room, he held his hands together like he was praying with his fingers touching his lips. “How did he find me?”
Floriana translated. Gjokeja answered.
“A woman,” Floriana said. “He said you bought a home for a woman.”
Of course. Burkhalter. The Swiss lawyer said men visited him, had put a gun in his mouth. They wanted to know his financial dealings. They must have realised that Ildico’s home was bought by him. Burkhalter had keep it hidden, had kept his name off the records, but the obvious thing was still obvious. Ildico had a new home.
“The men he sent to find me,” Paul asked. “Who are they? Tell me their names and tell me where they are?”
There was an exchange of language. “The men are in Romania. In Mr. Gjokeja’s telephone is everything you ask. It is in the bedroom.”
“Bring it.”
Paul followed her to the room, staring at the red welts on her buttocks as she walked ahead of him. She found the phone and handed it over. He looked at the contacts. Miklos Zhega was there along with his address here in Skhodra and a photograph of his smiling skeletal face.
This was the man.
He flicked through the contacts further and found an entry for Corneliu Latis. Unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable. There was no photograph but it had the name, the address in Brasov and a phone number. “Get the old man dressed and put him in his wheelchair,” he said. “We’re going on a road trip.”
----- X -----
Floriana dressed Gjokeja in an adult diaper, trousers and shoes whilst he was still in the winch, then she lowered him into the wheelchair to dress him in a shirt and jacket. For all the fearsome qualities Gjokeja must have possessed, he was now broken on every level. Whatever psychological breakage Paul had caused in the original attack, he had compounded it a million fold by returning. The old man was pathetic.
“You need to get dressed too,” he told Floriana. He followed her to a bedroom. Pink and peach covers to a single bed. A teddy bear by the pillow that held a love heart in its paws.
She stepped into grey sweatpants, her ass sticking out behind her, still showing the welts from the cane. The action gave Paul a surprise throb from his cock. She finally unclipped the nipple chain and put on a bra that somehow made her breasts look even bigger. She pulled on a sweat top, running shoes and an overcoat.
Outside, the body of The Bear was laid flat in a slick pool of blood. His arms were outstretched and the slice to his throat had widened to show his larynx through the wound. Aldo shuffled in his chair, turning his face away and covering his eyes with his good hand. Floriana had her hands over her mouth. Paul turned Gjokeja’s wheelchair to face the corpse just for the hell of it.
“I want to put him in a car. What do you have?”
Floriana pointed to the security office and showed the way. She took car keys and pressed a button which began opening garage doors that showed two family cars and a black Mercedes people carrier. “This one is best for Mr. Gjokeja,” she said pointing at the people carrier. “It has elevator for wheelchair.”
Paul spotted a roll of silver duct tape along with tools hanging from pegs on the back wall. He took the tape to Gjokeja, ripping off a length as he returned.
“Please, don’t hurt…” Gjokeja said.
“You speak English? What the fuck? You’ve been making this girl translate and you fucking understood me?”
“He speaks only little English,” Floriana said.
The old man had his eyes on the duct tape, he was shaking like he was suffering an epileptic seizure. His muscles were clenched, his nostrils flaring. Paul pressed the tape to his mouth and wrapped it around his head. He stretched out another length and fixed the old man’s good forearm to the chair then used a few smaller lengths to tape up his worthless arm and ankles.
Floriana prepared the vehicle and loaded Gjokeja and his chair using the vehicle’s disability lift.
“You’re very obedient,” Paul said. “Do you always do everything without question?”
She broke eye contact as Paul stepped into her personal space, forcing her to lean back against the vehicle. He could see the tendons standing from her neck, he could even see a tiny spot of skin on her neck beating with a pulse. He stared at her plump lips for a moment then reached towards her and gripped her clothing to slowly pin her against the side of the van. “I will do whatever you want,” she panted in a breathy whisper. Paul knew that already. There was something malleable about her. He could shape her, mould her into whatever fantasy he desired. He could fuck her, punch her, tie her to a tree and ram his fist up her asshole and she, he was certain, would never resist. He could think of nothing more arousing than a female plaything who would never say no. He wondered where his limits may be if allowed to explore them to the end.
“Get in the van,” he said stepping back. Floriana got into the passenger seat as Paul stretched out the duct tape. “Give me your feet.” Dutifully, Floriana rotated in the chair and pushed her feet forward. Paul rolled up the ankles of her sweat pants and taped her stockinged ankles together. He taped her knees also, on top of the sweatpants, feeling another swell of eroticism come over him. Tying a woman’s knees together had a surprise sense of control. Locking her legs together somehow felt more erotic than tying them wide open. Without asking, Floriana held her wrists forward ready to b
e bound but Paul ignored them. Tying her legs was enough to prevent her from making a run for it if he turned his back.
He drove out of the compound then returned to the security office to activate the switch that closed the front gate. For some reason he wanted it closed.
He looked back into the compound at the body of The Bear, then climbed back into the van and drove away.
----- X -----
For the second time in two days, Paul drove through the night until the sun was coming up ahead of them. A purple and orange spread of rays reached out across the top of a distant mountain range. Floriana sniffed two or three times. She was crying.
“Why?” Paul asked.
“Will this be the last sunrise I see?”
He took his eyes from the road to steal a glance at her with tears on her cheeks. He looked again. With each peek came an increasing desire to pull over just so he could stare and satisfy his curiosity. “How did you end up like this?” he asked. “You’re… I don’t even know what you are. Where are you from, what country?”
“Albania. I’m from Albania.”
“And how long have you been… whatever this thing is, nurse, prostitute, this sex slave role I found you in.”
“All my life,” she whispered. “Since I was a little girl.” She sniffed lightly and wiped her sleeve over her eyes. “I’ve been made to do it all my life.”
“You’re a grown woman, why don’t you leave? Do you want to leave?”
“Do you know what they do to girls who try and leave?” She took a breath to compose herself then said, “When I was a girl, my choices were taken away from me. You’re right, I am a woman now, but the choices I have are controlled by someone else... I survive. I do what it takes to survive and I survive better than most.”
The words hovered in Paul’s mind. She survived.
It reminded him of Lucian Noica‘s offer in the basement garage. He had Noica at knifepoint, when the doctor offered to take him in so he could be safe. He offered guaranteed survival in exchange for surrender. He offered protection but at a price. He would survive at the cost of self-actualisation, he would surrender his opportunity to grow and develop into the person he wanted to become. Survival at the expense of his free and future self.
Had Floriana faced a choice like that?
She had survived. Her basic needs were met. After that, she had nothing. She had less than nothing, she was a toy of the flesh for others to enjoy.
“You’re right the sunrise is beautiful,” Paul said, softening his voice. “Perhaps today will be a good day. It doesn’t have to be bad… Tell me, what is your big dream?”
“I don’t have a dream.”
“There must be something. If this was your last sunrise. If this was your last day on Earth, what would you want to do?”
She thought on it for a moment. “Go skiing… I’ve always wanted to ski.”
“That’s an easy one, just book a skiing holiday and…”
“...I’ve never had a holiday,” she interrupted. “I would like to learn how to ski. I would like to be alone on a mountain, skiing slowly to the bottom. I don’t want to go fast. I just want to be relaxed.”
“What colour ski suit would you like?”
“Pink,” she said before making a tearful smile. “Pink suit and pink goggles.”
“Well, when this is all over, I think you should book a holiday for yourself. You can make that dream come true easily.”
Floriana stiffened up. “I don’t know if that’s allowed.”
He took this to mean that Wheelchair Gjokeja in the back wouldn’t allow it and reached his arm behind Floriana’s shoulders to pull her closer. “The old man isn’t going to survive this trip,” he whispered. “But you will, if you help me. Help me do this and you will be free forever.”
Floriana shifted back to her seat then after a few seconds nodded and said, “I will help you.”
“Thank you,” Paul said. “Sincerely, thank you.” He nodded back across his shoulder to Gjokeja, “This guy,” he said, “is a cruel and nasty man. Do you know what they did to my girl in Romania?”
Floriana shook her head. “I know they planned to hurt her, but not much else. I know they wanted to do this to attract you.”
“What do you know of the men who attacked Ildico, the Romanian girl, you said there were four of them?”
“There were four men and the detective, but one was injured when they captured your girlfriend and he has returned home.”
“Who was injured, was it Latis, the detective?”
“No. It was a man called Loro. He was shot.”
“Shot? What happened?”
“They attacked the girl in Romania and made photographs to make you come for her. I don’t know the details but he was shot when they tried to do this.”
“I think that was their plan,” Paul said. “I think they expected me to go to her… What do you know about the detective?”
“He came to Mr. Gjokeja on Christmas Eve. He had photographs of you with different hairstyles and beards. He told Mr. Gjokeja that he wanted to kill you.”
“To kill me? He’s gone up in the world. That’s a bold aspiration for such a little man. And is Gjokeja paying the bills? Is he paying these men to find me?”
“Yes. I know he is, yes.”
“Do you know if he has paid them yet?”
“No, he will pay when they come back. He pays Miklos twenty five thousand Euros and then ten thousand each for the other men if they kill you, but he pays them extra ten thousand Euros if they bring you alive.”
“He wanted me alive? Did he want to kill me himself?”
Floriana made a nervous shudder. “He wished to feed you to hungry dogs.”
“Oh really,” Paul turned his head briefly to look behind at the old man. “Be careful what you wish for,” he mumbled.
“Can I ask,” Floriana said, “about the girl in Romania? She must be very special.”
“She is special… I think. I don’t know. It’s difficult to describe. It’s more about me than her… It’s selfish. I have an attachment to her, but it’s more like she is my guide to a better life than someone I love or have deep feelings for.” The moment he said that he felt himself sinking, his mood sliding towards misery. “That’s not true… I think I love her. I do love her. But it’s a complicated love… Something happened to me. This is going to sound strange, but I’m not… I’m not really a person anymore, I’m not human in the way that I was… Wow, that makes me sound like a lunatic actually saying it out loud.”
“So what do you think you are?”
“What I am… I don’t like to say. I don’t like the word I’m supposed to use to describe it. It’s not even the right word. I don’t think there is a name for what I’ve become. I’m untitled.” He thought on it for a few seconds, mumbling the word, “untitled, untitled, untitled.” It was a word he preferred over all others. “I am the untitled,” he said firmly. “I am the unimaginable made real. I was sick in a way that human beings should never be. I suspect that most humans die from this sickness, my instinct tells me most people would not survive. But I didn’t die. I can’t explain why I feel this, but when I emerged from the sickness I was an entirely different... thing.”
Paul took a deep breath and purged with puffed out cheeks. Was this how alcoholics feel at their first AA meeting. My Name is Paul and I’m a… Can you say it? Can you be that honest with yourself?
“I’m not human anymore,” was all he managed. “I’ve become something more than human. Something superior, with less limitations. I can see things that I shouldn’t be able to see. I can react to things faster than I ever could when I was human. My memory is a hundred times better than it was, my eyesight is incredible… It was the sickness. For a long time I thought the sickness was choking me, but it wasn’t, it was purifying me… but it has left me alone. It’s like I’m a new species but I’m the only one that I know of. I may even be unique.” Paul rested his palm momentarily against h
er knee in a gesture of human connection. “I’ve never said any of this out loud before… Thank you for listening.”
----- X -----
They made the hovel by early afternoon. The return journey had taken only thirteen hours rather than the eighteen to get there. Paul cut the tape around Floriana’s ankles and knees and held her hands for support as she climbed out of the van. “Are you steady on your feet? Stretch your legs a little,” he said still holding her hands. Floriana complied then lifted each knee to her chest one at a time. She turned a whole circle to survey the endless vista of snow in one direction and the mountain ridge behind her. “We are many miles from anywhere,” he told her. “Please don’t try to run away. You will die in the cold before you can find help… But with luck this will all be over in a few hours. I tell you something else, I’ll make a deal with you, there is a beautiful ski resort called Poiana Brasov less than an hour’s drive from here. When this is all over, I’ll leave you there. It can be the first day of your new life.”
Paul pushed the doorway to the hovel and beckoned her inside. “What about Mr. Gjokeja?” she asked.
“Leave him.”
Floriana entered the hovel which was ice cold and almost night-time dark compared to the overbearing white of outside. Paul lit a hurricane lamp and four tealight candles and motioned for her to sit on his bed of straw and blankets. He covered the candles with a terracotta plant pot that left a small gap for air to flow underneath, then put a larger pot over the first to create a convection heater. “It’s cold in here now, but it will warm up soon,” he said. The girl sat demurely on his bed, her eyes rolling around the hovel. “I’m going to have a tea, would you like a hot drink?”
“I would like tea,” she whispered.
