The Oligarch (Robert Martin Book 1)

by Vartan Mansuryan

  Soon the five brothers began to make a steady flow of cash. The cash was enough for the oligarchs of the old country to notice. So, one day, this was some years ago, a single oligarch arrived at the shores of Southern California from the old world…”

  “Son, I don’t have time for this. I’m beginning to get a bit of a headache from you punching me in the face. You’ve scared an old man half to death, but it’s time you and me part ways, don’t you think?” asked James Kelley.

  “Let me finish,” I said with a laugh, “First you say you want to write this down for a movie. Now you want me to leave? Make up your mind James Kelley.”

  “I apologize. Go on,” he said nervously.

  “Charlie hated it,” I continued, “He hated this new single oligarch sent from the old world, but he had to go along with it! And year by year, the new man in charge ate away little by little at Charlie’s crumbling business ventures. Charlie was turning into a take-orders kind of guy, a yes man. He was going to lose everything!”

  “Please son, I’m a tired old man and I need to take my pain pills…”

  “That’s where I come in,” I said with a calm voice, “I was hired to kill this man (this single oligarch) by Charlie. It will be great for my career, if I were to kill him. But there’s just one problem – my nerves are getting the better of me. I’ve never killed a man like the oligarch before. And now, life presents me with you. I could literally kiss you in mouth James Kelley! You’re going to be my savior. You see, up until this point, when I woke up this morning, out there by the pool, I had no idea what I was going to do. I was a nervous wreck. I had thoughts of running away with Kristine, and leaving behind my wife and kids. Sometimes my nerves get the best of me, then I have a drink and they settle down. But then the voices come, and...”

  “Son…you’re ranting. I need you to leave. Please. I’m asking you nicely. Give an old man a break.”

  “But then Kristine shows up! She tries to save me! And in trying she leads me to you! Why you? Such a prominent member of society. A great actor, writer, producer of the moving pictures! From East London! A movie man! A man who literally lives at the very top. Just like the oligarch.”

  “Wah…”

  I didn’t get a chance to hear his last words. The gunshot came and went. “Thank you for saving me James Kelley.”

  14.

  The freeways were desolate except for the big rigs. A strange sight for daytime driving in Los Angeles. The freeways usually turned into a parking lot around this time. And the average car speed turned from sixty miles an hour down to five. But I was moving briskly down the stretch of highway known as the five-freeway north. Everything was clear.

  My stomach grumbled for food. But I waited until I reached the apartment. This was no time for a meal. Things were moving fast. I burst through my apartment door, nearly breaking the door frame. I was going to tell her everything, then make love to her and go to work. But she was gone. I sat at the kitchen and drank warm cups of water, just so my stomach could shut up. I had some time until the assignment was to be completed. Minutes and hours past, Kristine still had not returned. I glanced at my wrist watch. It was time to go.

  The oligarch.

  I felt no remorse for the man; he was a stranger here, and here, in this town, every man is free to do whatever he wants. The old country never understood that, to them everything was about control and suppression. But things just don’t work like that here.

  I drove towards the mountains of San Bernardino. My body craved the taste of a good drink, but my mind rejected all notions of even a drop of it. I was not to be a professional; this was something else, this was cold-blooded murder, and murder requires more than professionalism. The instinct of brutality, and savagery, were far superior mindsets than professionalism.

  It was dark by the time I reached the top. I parked by Big Bear Lake and walked out to take in the fresh air and collect my thoughts.

  Just before an assignment, I like to contemplate on previous assignments. I look back and analyze the situation and what a masterful job I did. Robert Martin, calm and cool, he can do it all. That’s what I think they say about me after I complete my work. Sometimes I wonder if it was really me who killed all those people. Did I just kill James Kelley? Maybe. And for what? Charlie? The cronies? The oligarchs? No, this was for me. I did all of it for me. To live a rich and healthy lifestyle and to never worry about money. So that my children will never have to worry about money. So that my wife can be happy and never worry about money. But it isn’t all about money, some of it is for the fame, I will admit that much. If I didn’t have this, what would I be? Certainly not a cold-blooded murderer. I don’t have it in me to go around killing random strangers. An assignment must be handed to me and an order given.

  Perhaps a soldier my friend. You’d be a hell of a soldier!

  But why kill this man? Should I not turn around and go home?

  Deep inside my mind, I have a place, it’s a dark place. No, not dark, as in evil, dark as in, black hole. I can’t really see anything in this place. It’s the place that comes up in my mind when I ask the questions. A black mass, with no form, and no weight, and no light. That’s where all the answers come from. And as soon as I have my answers, it is time for me to do what I do best.

  I took a deep breath and lit a cigarette. It felt great smoking in such crisp air. Each inhalation better than the next. Finally, when I was down to the very end of the cigarette, I let go of it and it fell in front of me. I gently put it out with my right foot and proceeded to the car.

  The mansion, wooden, with oak beams and an arched elongated roof, stood on the other side of the lake, three-stories high, with the third one being the bedroom. The oligarch came out holding a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. He stood on the balcony without a care in the world. He had no idea I was there, watching him, and he had no idea those were the last minutes of his life. I tried to appreciate the moment, and the clarity of my task. It was so simple, and then it would be over. So why was I so afraid? He was nothing more than a fat slob with an ugly black goatee. Then I remembered James Kelley, and how he had helped me overcome my fears. I crossed myself and looked up at the sky.

  “Thank you James Kelley,” I said aloud, “If you’re watching this, from one genius to another, I hope you enjoy the show.”

  I approached the mansion cautiously. A single black SUV was parked in the driveway. I had to be careful. Luke, the other bodyguard, was likely inside the mansion. And I wasn’t entirely sure if Luke had been turned, like Vlad had been. There was a possibility that Luke could step out and gun me down.

  I felt the gun in my holster. I hated killing with my bare hand; the knuckles always bruised and hurt like hell after. But sometimes I like to test myself out. Just to see if I still got it. Perhaps I’ll shoot the guard and kill the oligarch with my bare hands. I could choke him to death, but that’s no fun. I’d have to sneak up on him from behind. One time I choked a man and I was sure he was dead, I let go of him and stood up, minutes later he was up and coughing all over the place. I had to do it again and it doesn’t get easier the second time around.

  I walked towards the door and tried the handle, it was locked. I looked around for cameras and saw none. I knocked on the door, and took out the gun from the holster. No one answered. I knocked again, this time louder. If Luke opened the door, he was going to get a bullet to his head.

  “Hey!” A voice called out from behind me.

  I turned and saw a six-foot-eight hulking man standing before me. He was about ten feet away and his fists were ready to pounce on me. His knuckles extended out like triceratops horns. A man should not be that big. Was I frightened? Yes! Who wouldn’t be. But I stood my ground and waved at him. It was a stupid and silly wave. Then I said, “hello,” and felt dumber for saying it.

  “This is private property?” he said.

  “You must be Luke.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “You know, your English i
s great for a foreigner.”

  “I grew up in the Valley.”

  “Me too, what part?”

  “North Hollywood.”

  “You play basketball? A guy like you should be playing basketball, not protecting a scumbag like the man inside.”

  “I don’t like sports.”

  “What about boxing? You must have punched a lot of guys in your day, ever practice boxing.”

  “No, it all sort of comes natural to me.”

  “And you’re not part of the plan with Vlad and Charlie? They haven’t turned you? Like they turned Vlad? You’re still loyal to the man inside?”

  “I know you!” he said, “I’ve seen you at the mansion. You’re Robert Martin. The assassin.”

  Everyone knows Robert Martin.

  “So you’re not in on the whole thing with Charlie and Vlad? And you have no idea that I was going to come here and kill the man you’re protecting? Do I have to kill you, big guy? I’m only asking because you seem like a nice guy. I killed a very nice guy earlier today. I don’t like doing it twice in one day. The voices start talking after one too many nice guys die by my hand.”

  He laughed and blew snot out of his nose.

  “Charlie would not dare betray us, neither would Vlad. I don’t…believe…

  “Stop,” I said, “How do you think I got up here? No one’s supposed to know the man inside this mansion is even here. Except for you, Vlad, and now me. He’s losing everyone Luke, let’s make this easy. You get out of my way, I go inside and do this quickly. I recommend your heroic deeds to Charlie in the morning and you wake up the next day a very rich man.”

  He gave no reply and instead clenched his fists tighter.

  My name is Robert Martin.

  Luke lowered his brow. He said no other words. Then he took four quick steps towards me, I raised my gun just as quickly and fired the fatal shot between his eyes. He came tumbling down like a redwood tree. I could have sworn the ground shook as he flattened against it. He lay just below my feet, his head oozing with blood.

  What if he took an interest in sports? A man of his size would have been great at basketball, football, who knows?

  15.

  I’ve never encountered a bullet heading for my direction. But now he knew I was coming.

  I decided to break one of the right-side windows and climb in. The shatter was loud and clear. The oligarch was probably cowering somewhere inside. I climbed in and checked each room on the first floor, before moving to the second. Upstairs, on the second floor, I found a kitchen, with a marble island in the middle. Four high chairs adorned the four corners of the island, and on one of the chairs sat the oligarch. A tall heavy set man with a big belly, which popped out like an oversized balloon. He sat with his hands neatly crossed. He greeted me in the native tongue of the old country.

  “Hello,” I replied back.

  He said a few more words in the native tongue of the old country, I gave him a perplexed look. I tried to make out the word, some of it I did, but the rest was all gibberish to my ears. Our eyes remained locked, the room was silent.

  A man like the oligarch, the number two man in a world of chaos, disaster, and principle, had the power to turn feeble-minded men like me with a snap of his finger. But as soon as this realization hit me, I straightened my shoulders and stood tall, trying to be as tall as he was. My body tensed up and every inch of me was ready to kill him. Our eyes remained locked.

  Thoughts raced through my head, I searched for the right words to say.

  Don’t bungle this up, Robert Martin.

  He continued to stare into my eyes until my eyes froze. I couldn’t even blink. A single tear rolled down my left eye. I let the tear fall down my cheek and onto the floor. I wasn’t afraid, no I was not afraid. It was time to do what I came here to do.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say his name he cut me off.

  “You don’t speak the native tongue, but you look like one of us. Just a little bit. Yes, you look like one of us.”

  His English, although heavy on the accent, was clear with a hint of British. I was suddenly reminded of James Kelley. Yes! James Kelley, he will show me the way. I was stronger now and I approached the island and sat across from him.

  “I remember you,” he continued, “You’re the one they call Rubo? Yes?”

  “Robert.”

  “Ah, yes Robert. Robert Martin. The half child. From your mother’s side. Don’t worry, my grandmother was from the other side of Europe. So we are the same. Yes? Good!”

  He slammed his hands against the granite counter top.

  “You are jumpy! Don’t be! Mr. Robert Martin. You are here for something? What is it?”

  “To…kill…you,” the words barely left my lips.

  “Really? Me? Why me? You don’t even know me.”

  “You’re…my…assignment.”

  “Speak up boy!” he burst out screaming, “That’s the problem with your generation! You don’t know how to speak up! You’re here for something, yes? To kill me, yes? So what are you waiting for.”

  “I…”

  “Speak up!”

  “I will kill you,” I blurted out.

  “You, Mr. Hitman, are you going to kill me now or later? Maybe after we have breakfast?”

  “I’m not a hitman.”

  “You’re not? Then what are you? A servant for justice? You were hired, yes? Someone paid you, yes? So you are a hitman. A no-good bloody hitman, here to kill me. In my home! Have you no shame? In my home! That’s why you are a half-blood! You have no principles! No more morals! No honor! You are nothing! Here to kill an old man in his home! Wake up hitman! You are in a video game! You take money to kill people for no reason at all! Wake up hitman! Wake up!”

  “Shut up!”

  The room was silent again.

  “You are under a lot of stress,” he started up again after a brief pause, “perhaps a drink.”

  “No, no drink.”

  I waved my hand in the air.

  “Are you sure? I was about to break out a fresh bottle of tequila. Here, look.”

  He walked over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer. His hand reached into the freezer, and he took out an unopened bottle of tequila. He placed it in front of me. I grabbed the ice-cold bottle and read the label. ‘Tequila’, read the label, and on the back, it said, ‘Product of Mexico’.

  “Wait, don’t drink it like that,” he said, “let me cut up some lemons.”

  “I wasn’t going to drink it. I was just reading the label.”

  “You like to read?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Me too! What is your favorite book?”

  I thought of Kristine and said, “My Name is Aram, it’s a collection of short stories.”

  “Saroyan! Yes! I know this book.”

  He took out a single lemon and began slicing it into little pieces. When he was finished, he pushed some of the slices in front of me. Then he waved the knife in the air and with a chuckle said, “don’t get any ideas.”

  He tossed the knife in the kitchen sink and reached for the cupboards and took out two shot glasses. He placed one in front of me and the other in front of him. He opened the bottle and poured both cups to the tip. The tequila overflowed out of the shot glasses. My tongue ached for a taste. There was no way I was going to resist an ice-cold shot of tequila.

  “Tequila,” he said, “I did not know this drink until I arrived in this country. My friend Charlie introduced me to this drink, and I have loved it ever since that day. Do you know Charlie?”

  “He’s the one who sent me to kill you.”

  “Of course he did.”

  He raised his glass high up in the air.

  “To Charlie!” he said.

  “To Charlie.”

  I drank down the glass and reached for a lemon.

  “This is a good drink. What is your favorite drink? Mr. Robert Martin.”

  “No! No more drink talk. Now you die.”
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  “You are one silly hitman. What are you scared of? Sit, Robert, sit. Have another drink, when you are feeling better, then you can think of killing me. Look at you, you are a mess. You are scared, and for what? I am a man! Just like you. I have no magic powers. But what I do have, is a lot of power. Here have another.”

  He poured my glass and pushed it towards me.

  “Drink.”

  I couldn’t help it, I drank.

  “Tell me more about Charlie. Tell me why he wants to kill me? Am I not good to this man? Am I not good to everyone? Am I not good to you now? I am a good man, a strong leader. And this Charlie, this insect named Charlie, wants to kill me?! Help me Robert. Help me understand why they are plotting against me. In the old country, the mother country, this would never happen. They have honor and loyalty in that country. When a man has a problem with you, he comes up to you and looks you in the eyes and says, I have a problem with you. Men of principle know what it is to confront, to talk face to face! But not Charlie! Charlie is scum! Charlie is evil! Charlie must be stopped! Can you stop him for me Robert?”

  “I can’t, I was…”

  “Robert, if you help me now, we can end this! Will you help me? You will be pushed up to the top! You will be my right-hand man. You will be Robert Martin! A man of principle. A man who does not go against the will of God. A man who respects his elders. A man who does not take what is not his. A respected man. A highly regarded man. In this country and in the other. You will be Robert Martin. They will talk about you, forever. As a great man! Don’t you want to be remembered for being a great man? And not a scumbag, like Charlie!”

  “Enough, stop talking. I need to clear my head.”