He smiled broadly and turned his eyes back to the road.
He began to whistle as a wave of euphoria swept over him.
Chapter Forty-Six
Dr. Lehman finished his twenty-fifth lap and pulled himself up onto the edge of the pond. He stood up and walked over to the hut. He went inside, dried himself and dressed. He left the hut, walked back to his desk and sat down. He glanced at his watch. Kerner was already an hour and a half late.
Dr. Lehman pressed a button on the desk and his chair shot several feet upwards, rotating as it ascended. Then he pressed the remote control button on the chair and it descended slowly, spinning in a counter-clockwise direction. He allowed it to rotate for several seconds and then stopped it. He looked at his watch again.
“Can I come in yet, Doctor?” Mrs. Griff shouted from the waiting room. “My hour should have started already.”
Dr. Lehman made no reply.
“You didn’t answer me, Doctor,” Mrs. Griff yelled.
Dr. Lehman opened his desk drawer and reached for his microphone.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Where to from here?” Jerry Shmytxcyk asked as he headed along Côte des Neiges Road.
“Just keep goin’ straight till I tell you ta turn,” Teddy Regan grunted.
Shmytxcyk accelerated and shot through a red light. “What exactly am I supposed to do when we get there?” he asked.
“You don’t have ta do nothing . . . unless I’m havin’ trouble with this guy. . . . I wanna work him over all by myself.”
“Hey, shit! Can’t I take a few shots at him too?”
“You stay the fuck out of it . . . unless I’m havin’ some trouble . . . You understand?”
“Aw, c’mon, Teddy! Shit! Lemmie take one or two shots at em, eh?”
“Jesus shit, man! You deaf or something! I said no. I got us this fucking job. Eh!”
“What about all the jobs I lined up, eh? I let you in on most of the action. I let you punch em out as much as you wanted to. You were hittin’ those fuckers more than I was.”
“Sure, because you asked me to, Jerry. You were gettin’ punched out. You’re just lucky I was there to help you . . . and anyway . . . on the last job you did it all yourself. You had all the fun. Didn’t ya?”
“Shit! You call that fun? Christ! She hardly even put up a fight. I hardly even hit her and she was out cold. She didn’t even feel me kicking her.”
“She musta felt the first few.”
“No way! She didn’t even yell once. The old cunt was out cold.”
“I heard her yell.”
“She didn’t yell, Teddy. She just went fucking plop, right on her face.”
“Okay, okay. Look,” Teddy Regan said, “if I let you kick this guy one time, will that make ya happy?”
“One fucking kick! Christ, what’s that! That’s sweet fuck all! . . . Lemmie fucking kick him a few times, Teddy. Eh? C’mon,” Shmytxcyk pleaded.
“No! You get one kick. That’s it. If he starts givin’ me trouble, then you can boot him all ya want. Okay?”
“I don’t want the fucking kick. . . . Lemmie hit him on the nose one time.”
“No! The nose is mine! You leave the fucking nose alone. That’s my property!”
“Ya always keep the nose for yourself,” Jerry Shmytxcyk whined angrily.
“So what!” Regan said, turning to glare at his friend.
“So, I want some of that!”
“The nose is mine!” Regan said with grim finality. “No one touches the fucking nose but me!”
They drove in silence for a while.
“Ah! I never get ta do nothin’.”
Regan turned slowly to look at Shmytxcyk. “Oh, Christ! You’re so full of shit!”
“It’s true. You know it.”
“Okay, okay. You can knuckle him on the back of the head.”
“Ah, fuck that! Christ! Is that all you’re giving me?”
“Hey, look! Fuck off, eh! It’s more than you fucking deserve,” Regan yelled.
“Says who?” Shmytxcyk shouted back.
“Says me! That’s who!”
“Who the fuck are you, eh?”
“I’m the boss of this fucking outfit!”
“Says who, eh?”
“Says me!”
“What the fuck makes you think you’re the fucking boss of this fucking outfit, eh?”
“Because I can break your fucking head if you fucking get me mad, you fucking asshole!”
“That’s a fucking good reason,” Shmytxcyk said meekly.
“You’re fucking right it is, fuckface!”
“Okay, okay, take it easy.”
“Okay, but don’t fuck with me, Jerry.”
“I wasn’t fucking with you.”
“You were fucking with me. . . . So don’t fuck with me, Jerry.”
“Fuck! I wasn’t fucking with you, Teddy.”
“Eh, look. Will you just fuck off!”
“Okay, okay.”
Again they drove in silence. After a minute, Shmytxcyk said, “Lemmie kick him in the balls, Teddy.”
With deliberate slowness Regan turned to look at Jerry Shmytxcyk. “The balls are mine, Jerry,” he grunted.
“Ah! Everything’s yours—the nose, the balls. You get all the good stuff.”
“What the fuck are you cryin’ about? Didn’t I give you a kick and a knuckler on the head? Eh?”
“Big fucking deal.”
“Big fucking deal, eh? Okay, farthead, now you got nothin’! I’m takin’ it all back. Now you got sweet fuck all.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll keep the kick and the knuckler,” Shmytxcyk said quickly, slowing the car and turning towards Regan.
“No, farthead. I took em back. So shove that up your arse and blow it out.”
“No, I’ll take em, Teddy. Lemmie keep em. C’mon, eh.”
“I thought you didn’t want em.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep em.”
“D’you want em?”
“Yeah, okay, I’ll keep em.”
“D’you want em!”
“Yeah, Yeah, okay.”
“Well, ask for em then.”
“Could I have them back?”
“Say please.”
“Please.”
“Say it like ya fucking mean it!”
“Please.”
“Say please, Teddy.”
“Yeah, okay. . . . Please, Teddy.”
“Okay, farthead, you got em back. One kick and one knuckler on the head.”
“Big fucking deal,” Shmytxcyk muttered.
“You’re just never satisfied, are ya? I just gave you back the kick and the knuckler and ya still ain’t satisfied. What the fuck’s the matter with you, eh?”
“I’ll give you back the kick and the knuckler for one shot on the nose.”
“I said the nose is mine. You fucking deaf or something?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll trade you back the kick and the knuckler for one shot in the balls.”
“I already told ya, the balls are mine!”
Shmytxcyk scowled. He turned to his friend. “Lemmie give em a coco bump and see if I can knock out all of his teeth.”
“No way, asshole. Are you kidding? If you miss his teeth, you’ll end up busting his nose, and I told you, that’s mine.”
“I won’t miss, Teddy. I swear. Shit, I’ve been practising—you know, butting my head against the wall. I’ll just get his teeth.”
“No! The teeth are mine.”
“Ya see! Ya see! You get ta keep everything,” Shmytxcyk whined.
“Okay, you asshole, gimmie back the kick and the knuckler and you can have . . . let’s see . . . okay, let’s say three rabbit punches to the back of the neck. Okay?”
Shmytxcyk shrugged. “The neck. Big fucking deal.”
“What’s the matter with the neck?”
“I just don’t like it. Okay?”
“Okay. Then three in the kidneys. How’s that?”
“Throw
in a few kicks in the head to go with the kidneys and you got a deal.”
“A few kicks! Naw, no way. One kick, okay, but not in the head-in the leg.”
“In the leg?!”
“Yeah, in the leg. Whatsa matter with that?”
“I don’t want the fucking leg.”
“Whatsa matter, ain’t the leg good enough for you?”
“No, it ain’t. Gimmie the kneecap.”
“The kneecap?”
“Yeah, I want the kneecap.”
“Okay, you got it, prick, but only one.”
“And I wanna use the big baseball bat on it.”
“No fucking way! We’re not using no bat.”
“Okay, then I’ll use the little bat.”
“I said no fucking bats!”
“Okay, then I’ll use the brass knuckles when I knuckle him on the head.”
“No equipment, Jerry. Nothin’.”
“Ah! This is for the birds,” Shmytxcyk snorted.
“You’re always fucking cryin’,” Regan said. “You got three in the kidneys and one on the kneecap. That oughta make ya happy, prickface.”
“Gimmie one more thing, okay?”
“Like what?”
“I dunno . . . something good.”
“Well, like what, asshole?”
“I dunno. I’m thinking.”
“Well, don’t take all day. We’re almost there.”
“Okay, I got it! An open-hand smash on the ears. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay . . . but don’t fuck up my action. If I’m goin’ for the nose, you stay clear of the ears. You get it? You go for the ears when I go for the balls.”
“Okay, okay, don’t worry.”
Regan leaned back against the seat. “You got three things now, Jerry . . . .Are ya happy?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess so! You prick. You’re just lucky I’m a nice guy,” Regan shouted.
Jerry Shmytxcyk made no reply. He just kept on driving.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“Mr. Kerner,” the doctor said, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.
Kerner turned his head slowly and looked up at Dr. Lehman.
“What happened to you?”
“I had a bit of an accident.”
“A bit of an accident! . . . You look like a house fell on you.”
“That wouldn’t have been so bad.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? . . . I’d hate to see you when something did happen.”
Kerner smiled weakly.
“So what happened, Mr. Kerner?”
“It’s not important.”
“Look, you asked for me to come down here, so the least you could do is tell me how you got here.”
“I told you. I had a little accident.”
“What kind of accident? . . . Were you in a crash?”
Kerner shrugged.
“Look, Kerner, why did you send for me?”
“I don’t really know.”
Dr. Lehman stared down at Artie Kerner for a moment. “It’s been over three months since you were in to see me. . . . How is it that you stopped coming?”
“Just like that.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that.”
“You still owe me a hundred dollars, Mr. Kerner.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get paid.”
“I’m not worried, Kerner. Like I once told you . . . I can buy and sell you. So believe me, I’m not worried about a lousy hundred dollars. I was just mentioning it for the record.”
“Okay, so now you mentioned it,” Kerner replied.
The doctor hesitated. He looked up at the ceiling as though thinking. “Mr. Kerner, I detect a change in you. You seem somewhat different from the last time I saw you.”
“Maybe I am.”
Dr. Lehman nodded. “Yes . . . maybe you are.”
Kerner turned his head towards Dr. Lehman. “Would you mind lighting me a cigarette. They’re on the table beside the bed.” The doctor took a cigarette from the pack and lit it. “Just put it between my lips and give me a drag,” Kerner said. “As you see, I can’t hold it too well myself.” Kerner gestured with his head towards his arms which were both in casts from the shoulder to the tips of his fingers.
The doctor put the cigarette between Kerner’s lips. Kerner dragged and Dr. Lehman withdrew the cigarette.
“You can put it out. I just wanted a drag.”
Dr. Lehman stubbed the cigarette. He walked towards the end of Kerner’s bed and picked up the medical chart that hung there. “How long have you been here?” he asked.
“About two months.”
The doctor held the chart up in front of him and studied it. “From the look of this chart, Mr. Kerner, it appears that almost every bone in your body is broken.”
“I’m not in very good shape,” Kerner replied.
“No. That you’re not,” Dr. Lehman said, replacing the chart. He walked over to Kerner and looked down at him. “So what happened, Mr. Kerner?”
“Nothing.”
Kerner averted his head.
The doctor turned and headed for the door. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Kerner.”
“Wait. . . . Wait a minute.”
Dr. Lehman stopped at the door. “Yes?”
“I’ll tell you what happened.”
The doctor came back to the bed. He pulled up a chair and sat down near Kerner.
“I was beaten up,” Kerner said.
“Beaten up, eh? That’s what I figured. . . . The various bone fractures listed on your chart seem to suggest that. Anyways, they did some job on you.”
Kerner glared at the doctor.
Dr. Lehman pulled his chair closer to the bed. “Who did it?”
“A couple of goons.”
“I guess this had to do with your problem with this Mr. Hankleman, hmm?”
“Well . . . yes . . . sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?”
“Well. . . . Okay, I’ll tell you exactly what happened. . . . Do you remember the last session I had with you?”
“Very vaguely. That was quite a while ago.”
“I told you about the plan that Mr. Weisskopf and his partner had set up to shaft Hankleman. . . . Do you remember that?”
“Oh, yes. Yes. You had done a whole scenario in their office for the benefit of Hankleman who’d had the office bugged.”
“That’s right. And he had fallen for it, if you remember.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“A meeting had been arranged up north and Hankleman was going there supposedly to get the plan of a tract of land slated to be expropriated by the government for the new autoroute extension.”
“Yes, I recall that. And if my memory serves me right, you were going to deliver the plan to Weisskopf’s man who was posing as the director of the Autoroute Authority.”
“The Roads Planning Department,” Kerner corrected.
Dr. Lehman nodded.
“That evening, after I left your office, I went for supper at Weisskopf’s house and picked up the plan which was in an architect’s cylinder. Then I went home.”
With some effort, Kerner turned his head and looked directly at Dr. Lehman. A strange smile came over his face.
“Go on,” Dr. Lehman said. “You went home with the plan . . .”
Kerner continued to smile strangely.
“What happened then?” the psychiatrist asked.
Kerner began chuckling. “Then I freaked out,” he said.
“You what?”
“I freaked out.”
“Yes?”
“Yes,” Kerner replied, still chuckling.
“Would you care to amplify on that statement?”
“Sure, why not? But I’ll have to go back a bit in time and explain a few things first.”
“So go,” Dr. Lehman said without any expression.
“By the end of my last s
ession with you, I think it would be fair to say that I had progressed quite well. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, that’s true,” Dr. Lehman replied with a brief nod.
“I had gone . . . what? . . . two days without buying?”
“That’s right, two days.”
“And if you remember, I had decided to sell everything I owned and move to a kibbutz in Israel.”
The doctor nodded.
“I owned a lot of valuable stuff, right?”
“Right.”
“I was going to sell it all, right?”
“What is this, a quiz?” Dr. Lehman asked, scowling.
Kerner laughed almost gleefully and ignored the question. “But there was one other thing I owned, something I had bought during the height of my buying addiction.” Kerner paused.
Dr. Lehman said nothing.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what it was?”
“No,” Dr. Lehman replied nonchalantly.
“Aren’t you curious to know?” Kerner said, the strange smile coming back onto his face.
“No,” Dr. Lehman answered.
“Well, I’ll tell you anyways,” Kerner said and then paused. There was a bright gleam in his eyes and he began to laugh softly as though savouring some secret thought. He averted his eyes from Dr. Lehman for a moment and stared straight ahead. His laughter stopped and he turned quickly back to look directly at the doctor. “I also owned a piece of land,” he said, throwing the words out almost as though in a challenge.
“Yes, I know that,” Dr. Lehman said offhandedly. “You had mentioned that in your second session with me.”
For a moment there was a puzzled look on Kerner’s face, as though he were trying to think of something. “Yes, I guess I did mention it to you, but I’m surprised you remembered.”
“I remember everything, Mr. Kerner. I have total recall. I can remember every word you ever said to me and I can tell you at what time and on what day you said it. I can also tell you exactly what you were wearing when you said it. So don’t be surprised.”
“I’m very impressed,” Kerner said sarcastically.
“As you should be,” Dr. Lehman replied calmly.
Kerner took a deep breath. “Do you want to hear this story or not?” he said, a note of anger in his voice.
“Enough questions, Mr. Kerner. You called me down here. So if you want to talk, talk; if you don’t want to, then don’t.”
The Last Collection Page 22
