The Rasner Effect

by Mark Rosendorf

  “What the hell is the matter with you, you little brat?” he shouted. Then he slid the computer back on the table.

  “Okay, let’s break this up now,” Jen said.

  Rick stepped forward and grabbed Clara’s upper arm with his left hand. He yanked her several steps back from the table and leaned her against the wall next to the counter by the sink.

  “All right, that’s enough!” Rick shouted over his shoulder. “All of you, enough!”

  Rick shot a fierce stare down into Clara’s eyes. Why did he do this, she wondered. He should be shouting at Derrick to stop saying things about her father.

  He still held her arm, but relaxed his grip. Clara looked over Rick’s shoulder. Derrick was examining his laptop for damage. Jen walked around the table to him.

  “She almost broke it, Jennie,” he whined. “What’s the matter with that little…”

  “I’m sure it is fine, Derrick. Just relax, okay?”

  “Jorge, shut-up,” Derrick shouted in an attempt to stop the deafening cackle. “I swear, if anything on this is broken, I’m going to get my gun and shoot her myself.”

  “Like hell, you will,” Rick said through gritted teeth.

  “Gentlemen, please!” Jen turned her head in Clara’s direction and smirked. “No one’s going to die over this…yet.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Clara breathed deep to calm herself while Rick continued pressing her against the wall. The meeting was over early—her fault, she guessed. The moments passed. Derrick ignored her while Jen was the complete opposite; her attention remained on Clara. Gradually, Clara felt her rage subsiding. Despite the situation, she still felt, for the first time in years, safe.

  “It’s just…” she spoke in a low voice geared mainly at Rick, struggling to keep tears at bay. “He’s been there for a long time and he can’t ever get out. I wanted out. I’m sure he does too.” Clara dropped her chin to her chest, defeated. Why would they go to the trouble of breaking out a man they didn’t know? Especially for her, the maid. It would be stupid.

  Jen rounded the corner of the table and approached Clara. Rick stepped out of the way. Anxiety bubbled into Clara’s throat. She considered running, either behind Rick for a hiding place or out of the room entirely. She found Jen more frightening than anyone else. This was despite the fact she was only a few inches taller than Clara herself.

  “We are all a team here, Clara. We’re a team where everyone has a say and everyone gets what they want whenever possible, so long as it doesn’t interfere with business. However, everyone is also expected to do their part.”

  Clara stood speechless, staring at Jen. She was never very good at respecting adults, but in Jen’s case, she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Jen could kill her without a second thought.

  “You and I will sit out the trip to Westchester. We’re going to trust the boys to handle it themselves.” Jen gave Clara a confident smile that made her feel only marginally better. “I have a very special mission for you, young lady. If you’re successful, we’ll discuss your request very seriously.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Maybe she wasn’t going to be the maid, after all.

  Jen turned away from Clara. “Derrick, take the guys downstairs to that converted warehouse of yours. Get whatever you think you’ll need for the Westchester mission.”

  Jen stepped toward Rick, taking him by the arm and once again whispering in his ear. Jorge was the first to leave the room, brushing past Clara and almost knocking her over.

  Derrick took a few moments to shut down his laptop and fold it closed. “We can’t bring that guy in. I hope we all understand,” he said.

  “We understand,” Jen said. “We’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m just making sure, you know.” Derrick threw Jen a mock salute, rose, and left the kitchen.

  Jun Sanaga left his chair and rounded the table. He stopped in front of Clara, examining her with the curiosity and interest that continued to make her feel like an animal on display. She straightened her spine and still Sanaga towered over her. Despite his height, Clara stood her ground to show her lack of fear.

  Before Clara could even blink, Sanaga’s hand slid against her left cheek with a gold handled switchblade between his thumb and forefinger. She’d seen the knife before, the blade extended about four inches long with Japanese markings along both sides of the handle. The same knife he held against the throat of that boy in the van. Sanaga brought the blade of the knife down toward Clara’s chin. She remained still, never looking at the knife. Instead she kept her eyes pointed straight up into his.

  Sanaga returned her defiance with a smile—not a smile of impertinence, but a smile that suggested the beginnings of respect. He brought the knife down from Clara’s face and, with one hand, folded it, making sure she observed how he did it. He then flipped the knife and held it out for her to take.

  Clara hesitated. He jiggled it in the air and gestured for her to take it. She seized the knife from his hand, holding it out like a trophy before slipping the knife into her back pocket. Sanaga backed away from Clara and out of the room.

  She watched him leave and then turned her attention to Rick and Jen.

  “That’s a brave little girl you have there, Rick,” Jen quipped in a tone that made it hard for Clara to guess whether she was joking or serious.

  “I told you that,” Rick said with pride. “And she’s smart too, that’s why I wanted her here.”

  Clara felt a cold lump in her throat and she looked to Rick for support. He walked over as well, standing next to Clara’s left side. She felt slight comfort in his proximity but her head was spinning.

  “When was the last time you saw your mom?” Jen asked.

  “Mom.” Like a shot to the stomach, Clara cringed and gushed out a breath. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “Well, you’re going to talk about her anyway. I hear she wasn’t a very good mother to you, is that true?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Try to relax,” Rick said, going back to lean against the kitchen counter. “Just treat this like we’re back in the therapy suite, discussing your past and working through it.”

  Jen gave Rick a quick grin. Her shake of the head showed the humor she found in his statement. After a moment’s thought, Clara understood the joke. Sure, he sounded like a therapist, but was he really one? Had he all this time been a killer in disguise?

  “Answer my question, Clara. How long has it been?”

  “A very long time,” Clara dropped her head once again.

  Rick explained, “Her mother abused and abandoned her. Apparently, she’s a real bitch on wheels.”

  “I’d like to meet her. I think you should see her once more as well.”

  “No!” Clara’s voice cracked as she forgot her vow to remain calm. “I don’t want to see her ever again. She’s dead in my heart. I want to keep it that way.”

  “Why keep it there? She should be dead for real. And that’s what we do.”

  Clara’s mouth opened but she just stood in silence, seemingly stunned, unsure how to respond.

  “Tell me.” Jen placed both hands on Clara’s shoulders, an action that made Clara tense up. “Does she deserve to die?”

  “Yes. Yes, she does.”

  “Would the world be a better place without her?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Now, answer this,” Jen rubbed her hand against the side of Clara’s face, from her hairline down to her chin. “If she were to die, would it only be fair that you be the one to pull the trigger?”

  Clara’s eyes widened as she began to see where this conversation was headed. Jen placed her fingers under Clara’s chin and pointed it up so they could look one another in the eyes. Just like she’d thought, they were going to make her kill someone else. Clara’s knees buckled. She grabbed hold of the wall for support.

  “Well?”

  “I-I think I…it would feel good. But I can’t really kill her�
��right?”

  “Why not?”

  “I dunno. It would be wrong…wouldn’t it?”

  “Who the hell says?” Rick shouted. “What are you afraid of? Feeling guilty? Do you think she feels any guilt over you?”

  Rick took hold of Clara’s arms above the elbows and pulled her toward himself. He then hunched over in order to speak to her face to face. There was both anger and sympathy in his eyes.

  “She destroyed your life and then left you alone to live it. She made you suffer and you can believe she didn’t lose any sleep over that. Now, you’re in a position to make her suffer just like she did to you.”

  Clara had to admit the thought sounded great; she did want her mother to suffer like she had every single day for her entire life. But could this really be okay?

  “Forget for a minute what your mother deserves, Clara.” Rick straightened himself up and stood tall. “How about what you deserve?”

  Clara leaned back against the wall and rubbed her cheek with the back of a hand. Then she swiped at the drops of sweat on her brow. “I just…I think…she—I do deserve it.” With the decision, Clara felt a strange flow of emotion into her face.

  “How did it feel to pull the trigger and see Miller drop to the floor? Or how about watching that asshole teacher get what he had coming? They’ll never be able to hurt you again. I know it was a scary moment, but I’m sure there was a part of you that enjoyed watching them die. It felt right, didn’t it?”

  Clara couldn’t suppress a smile. “A little.” But still she couldn’t sleep for the images that kept badgering her head.

  “More than a little, I’m sure. The best solutions are the permanent ones. Tonight, you’re going to solve that issue permanently.”

  Clara looked back and forth from Rick to Jen, still feeling some uncertainty.

  “Take the mission, Clara. Be successful and afterward, we’ll discuss making your father a free man,” Jen encouraged. She patted her on the back. The gesture made Clara tense up once again.

  “Y-you’re not coming?” she asked Rick.

  “I have my own mission tonight. I have my own demon that I deserve to kill.”

  “Think of tonight as a girl’s night out, Duke-style,” Jen told Clara with a smirk. “In fact, afterward, we can even do a little shopping. We’ll get you some nice new clothes.”

  Jen’s face cringed. “Particularly ones that don’t smell.”

  Clara took a handful of her happy-face T-shirt, which she had been wearing for a number of days and stared down at it, showing some embarrassment. Jen turned away and sauntered to Rick.

  “Okay then, you have your mission tonight, and we have ours. I’ll make sure Derrick finds her address if he hasn’t done so already.”

  “I know where that bitch lives.” Clara shouted. “She’s in Brooklyn. I think she’s still there.”

  “We should confirm that,” Rick said.

  Her response was a quick and catty, “Yes, I know.”

  “You’re going to be fine, Clara. Tonight, you take what you’re owed. Tonight, the anger starts to go away,” Rick said.

  Clara nodded. “I’m going to do it,” she said and then repeated it to herself. “I’m going to do it.”

  “And I’m going to catch up with the others and get ready. I can trust the kid in your hands?”

  “Of course. I’ll keep you informed,” Jen answered. “You’re taking the van, I assume?”

  “Yes, but what about you?”

  “Derrick says his neighbors are in Florida. They have a nice car in their driveway, so we’ll borrow it.”

  Rick walked past Jen. She stuck her cheek out, like she expected a kiss. She didn’t get one and looked disappointed. Clara nearly laughed as Rick stopped only to whisper in her ear instead, “Just wait, I’m right about this one.”

  “We shall see if you are,” Jen responded.

  Rick was about to leave the room when Clara stepped in his path. She threw her arms around his waist and rested her forehead on his chest. “Thanks for getting me out.”

  Rick seemed unsure of how to react. Jen let out a quiet chuckle. “A little emotion could go a long way.” She took Rick’s arm by the wrist and placed it over Clara’s shoulders. The hug was short lived but satisfying for Clara. It was the first positive physical contact she’d had since…well, she couldn’t remember the last time.

  Rick put his hand on top of her head. “Okay kid, I have to go let Derrick know what we’ll need. But after that, I want you to meet me outside in the backyard. Figure twenty minutes from now.”

  A permanent rage lived in Rick’s eyes, but Clara thought she could see behind it, to the real man. The man who was a combination of the therapist and the mercenary. He was also the only person she had ever known, except her grandmother, who seemed to give a damn about her.

  “Let me give you a hand getting ready,” Jen said to Rick. “And then I will wish you luck, properly.”

  She enfolded her hands around his waist and led him out of the kitchen. Clara watched them descend the basement stairs. She took a moment to sit and inspect her surroundings. Last night had been the first time in a long time where she remained alone in a room and not locked in.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Okay, now grip the gun tightly and put your finger on the trigger. Keep your feet apart, just like I showed you.”

  In the backyard, Rick stood behind Clara with her arms stretched out straight and the pistol gripped in her hands. The oak tree was twenty-five paces, just on the edge of the woods. An empty tin soda can perched on a branch about six feet off the ground. Rick said it wasn’t very far, but it was a hell of a lot further than the bitch had been.

  “Don’t be afraid of the gun, Clara, it’s your advantage against the world. It’s your control,” Rick spoke in a low voice. “Line your shot up just below your target. Remember, the gun will pop up when it goes off.”

  “Okay.” She squinted at the target, sighting over the top of the pistol.

  “As soon as you’re ready, squeeze the trigger and release all the hate you feel inside.”

  Clara squeezed one eye closed. The gun was positioned perfectly, aimed just below the bottom of the can. It felt as if the gun barrel touched the can as Rick said would happen. She was ready to pull the trigger. With Rick watching just feet away, she wanted to hit the can with her first shot.

  Above the branch where the can sat, a dark gray pigeon flapped its wings, causing the leaves around it to rustle. Clara quickly brought her eyes back to the can, but then she couldn’t tell if the gun in her hands was still aimed properly. She brought her hands down to her sides and looked at Rick in frustration.

  “Fucking bird,” she exclaimed, smiling a little.

  Rick laughed as he reached over and took the gun from Clara’s hands. “The bird just ruined your shot.” He placed the gun on the basement window ledge to the right of the door.

  “Yeah.”

  “Nice to see you smiling, by the way.”

  The comment brought a wider grin that she tried to stifle. She used to love to show off her smile, it brought her many compliments. It was long before she ended up in that place and then couldn’t find a reason to smile anymore.

  “So what do you do about it?” Rick turned serious. He cocked a brow, waiting for an answer.

  She wanted to ask, about what? but didn’t want to make him angry. “It’s just a bird.”

  He sat in one of the folding chairs near the house and leaned his elbows on his thighs. “Bird or not. It doesn’t matter. It kept you from your target. It’s an annoyance and annoyances have to be dealt with harshly. As a message to the rest of the world.”

  “You want me to kill the bird?” Clara really didn’t like the idea of killing an innocent creature to make a point.

  “I want you to command the fear and respect of anyone who would dare cross you.” Rick sat up straight. His eyes widened in what she’d already come to recognize as an obsession. “If you can’t, they become a thre
at. It’s a kill or be killed world out there, Clara, that’s why threats need to be eliminated. Do not hold back!”

  “You make it sound…easy.” Did he realize how hard all this was? She didn’t think so. Rick only saw life from one perspective—kill or be killed. There had to be other ways, didn’t there?

  “It is easy!” Rick snapped, jolting her away from her thoughts.

  “My whole life, everyone told me to hold back.” She stared down at her feet. “Think before I speak, control my temper, stuff like that. Even you told me I had to learn to control myself. Were you frontin’ or…?”

  “Forget what I said there, listen to me now!” Rick started out of the chair, but then got hold of himself. She nearly smiled. For a moment, he looked like the Rick Rasner who sat across from her in the therapy suite.

  Rick fell back in the chair, both loafers flat on the floor. He pointed a finger at her. “You don’t let people shit on you, Clara, ever! You have to know how to handle the Millers and the Royals of the world. They’re the types who prey on the weak. You show them weakness and they will eat you alive.”

  “I tried to fight back, I really did.” And she had. “Every time I stood up for myself, Officer James held me against the wall by my throat, sometimes until I couldn’t even breathe. Every time I opened my mouth, they’d throw my ass in seclusion.”

  Clara couldn’t believe she’d almost shouted at him. She clamped her lips together and looked toward the ground. The grass needed mowing. “I couldn’t do nothing but take it.”

  “I never liked bullies. And that’s all Officer James was, just a bully with a badge, and not even a real badge. That’s why he’s dead now, good riddance.”

  “I hated that stupid straitjacket.” She couldn’t stop the shiver that coursed through her whole body. “Some of the time, I was only fighting because I didn’t want it on me. But he was too big. Too strong.” Clara glanced at the can still sitting on the branch. She picked up the gun and tested the heft of it in her hand.