“Exactly! Because you are a man of principle. Here! Let us toast to principle and honor.”
He poured another shot. I drank it down and reached for a lemon, but they were all gone. The fat slob had gobbled them all up. The room was spinning and I nearly fell off the chair. He poured me another glass. Everything was in slow motion. The oligarch kept on talking, he kept on trying to convince me. I couldn’t hear him anymore. All I could here was a single distinct voice.
“Hey! Hey buddy. You don’t look so good buddy. What’s going on? Look at me buddy.”
I looked down at the shot glass full of tequila.
“Buddy, you’re wasting time. You need to do this now. Reach for that knife and shove it in his throat. The longer he talks, the more time he wastes, the sorrier you’re beginning to feel for this guy. What would Charlie think? Think of the kids. Your wife. Even that chick you got back at the apartment, Kristine, or is her name Mary? What would she think? You need to do this now. Get it over with. Grab the knife. Go now buddy. Go.”
“I can’t!”
“Can’t what?” asked the oligarch, “did you say something to me?”
I broke down. My face contorted and shaped into a sad sappy shell of a man. I cried loudly and held my eyes to hide from the oligarch.
“Buddy, don’t do this to yourself. You need to finish this.”
“I can’t! I can’t! I don’t want to!”
I rubbed my eyes open and saw the oligarch standing inches from me.
“Are you alright son? You don’t have to do this anymore,” said the oligarch, “I think it’s time for you to go home.”
His left hand grabbed my shoulder. I couldn’t see his other hand. He stepped closer to me. But he was a fat slow man and before he could take out that kitchen knife from behind him, and thrust it in my belly, I grabbed the bottle of tequila and with one quick motion, came down on his head with it. The fat oligarch stumbled back stunned. He looked around the room to figure out what exactly had happened. I hit him again and he fell back and the knife fell out of his hand. Another blow to his head and his eyes rolled back. Blood gushed out. I gave his head another strike with the bottle! And another! And another! Until there was nothing left but a bloody messy pancake of a face. Then I stood and grabbed the kitchen knife off the floor and slit his throat from one end to the other. It felt like carving a fat pig.
The oligarch was dead.
16.
“Charlie. It’s finished. I’m going home.”
“Good job Robert. Me and the boys…”
I hung up before he could finish his sentence. The oligarch was dead and I still felt the same. I was drunk and covered in blood, high atop a mountain. Luke’s dead body was still near the front entrance. It was likely that one of the neighbors or a passerby would spot him by morning.
It was dark out, nearly pitch-black, and I had no idea what time it was.
I took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and chugged it down. Hydration was key to getting sober.
“Hey buddy! Where you going? Aren’t you going to say goodbye? One last round, on me! Just before you go. What do you say buddy? Come on buddy!”
“I’m tired. I need to go home.”
“You’ll go home. Just have a drink. Give me that big fat kiss. Come a little closer buddy. That’s it.”
I walked up to the glass of tequila and stood over it.
“I miss my wife and kids.”
“Jesus buddy! Will you calm down and listen to me for a second.”
“I’m listening.”
“Good, now come closer and pick me up and give me that kiss. One last drink buddy and then you can go home to your wife. Go and make love to her, or I have a better idea, how about you have this drink and then go back to the apartment and make love to that young one, Kristine, or was her real name Mary, just like we planned. Boy, she would be great in bed! Then you can go home and make love to your wife. And then you can sit back and relax for a while. You just pulled off the greatest job of your career buddy. Everyone will know you by morning. Robert Martin! The slayer of dragons. The man who took out an evil emperor. The one who kills the men at the very top.”
I picked up the drink and held it high up in the air.
“You’re amazing buddy. A real upstanding guy! The greatest to ever live. You have the courage of a thousand men. You are Robert Martin. Robert Martin from the valley. Drink up buddy! Drink up! You deserve this one.”
There was no greater feeling in this world than that last shot of tequila. It was satisfying and It went through my lips and down my tongue and warmed my stomach. My face cracked a smile. Tears swelled up in my eyes. It was time to leave, my work here was done.
17.
The morning fog raided the mountain top and I could barely see beyond the steering wheel. I drove, clutching the steering wheel with both hands. I rubbed my eyes to keep them from closing. Where was the city? Where were the freeways? I slapped my face several times to stay awake but it was no use. When I finally reached the bottom of the mountain, I was too tired to keep going. I had to stop and rest. I parked near a gas station and turned off the car. And my mind finally felt the comfort of rest.
I closed my eyes, just for a minute.
* * *
“Robert, wake up!”
I sprang up to find Kristine sitting across from me. We were back at the apartment. She was wearing a white dress with a pink veil. The veil covered most of her face except her pink lips. Her lips sparkled with glitter and she smiled.
“Wake up Robert,” her lips said, “it’s time.”
I stood up and she took my hand and led me out the door and down the apartment hallway. Rose petals fell from the sky as we walked. The hallway led to blossoming plum trees. I tried reaching for them, but Kristine pulled me closer to her.
“Look everyone is here!”
“Hello Hitman,” said Charlie.
I looked towards Charlie and found him standing in the middle of a garden. Behind him stood Tiger and the rest of the cronies. Each one wearing a white suit with pink bow ties.
“Outstanding work my friend. We couldn’t be happier for you,” said one of them.
“A big promotion is coming your way,” said Tiger.
Then James Kelley appeared from behind me and placed his hand on my shoulder. Half the side of his temple was missing. I couldn’t stop staring at the grotesque sight.
“You did it my friend,” he said as blood dripped down the side of his mouth, “you’re going to be just as famous as I was. Robert Martin, actor, comedian, hitman, and now slayer of all things famous. The butcher of the valley. How do you feel?”
“Good.”
"That’s wonderful! Now, get ready because we have a special surprise for you. Right this way."
He grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me towards the crowd.
"Everyone! May I have your attention please. This is the slayer of all things famous. The man who needs no introduction. Here he is! Let's have a warm show of appreciation."
Cheering and clapping ensued.
"True story," said James Kelley, "he's the one who gave me this," he pointed to the grotesque wound on his temple, "and I couldn’t be prouder of him. Let's just get the facts right, I am not a victim. I am one of the chosen few to be touched by the bullet of this man."
More applause and cheering.
"My friend," said Charlie who was standing to my left, "somebody would like to have a word with you."
Then there was silence, everything around me turned to black. Charlie was gone, so was James Kelley and the other guests. The oligarch appeared before me looking as fat as ever. Blood spewed out of his neck and onto his white shirt. He placed his open palm on my cheek and said, "Meet me at the apartment."
18.
The fog had cleared and the pain in my neck subsided. The oligarch touching my face didn’t exactly startle me awake. My reaction was a simple, “wow, that was strange.” I wasn’t out of breath when I awoke, but my heart bea
t a little faster than usual. I sat myself up in my chair and started the car. I drove for nearly an hour and half before reaching the apartment. I walked inside and called out for Kristine. She was gone. I undressed in the middle of the living room and tossed the blood-stained clothing on the floor. I stared down at the blood, it was the oligarch’s blood on my apartment floor.
Worry about that later.
I felt better without clothes.
I walked around and smiled to myself. It felt good to get the job done. I could finally go home and see my wife and kids. It was time to go. All thoughts of Kristine vanished. I showered and took out a clean suit and tie from the closet. I always like to go home in a suit after a big job. Another smile broke across my face. How happy were the kids going to be when they saw me?
When I was fully dressed, I snatched my car keys and headed for the door. Then I noticed a note on the kitchen table. It was from Kristine.
Dear Bob,
I know you hate being called Bob, but I think it suits you. When you walk into a room, your swagger says Bob. Robert sounds old and you don’t look a day over twenty-five. I want to thank you for accepting me and letting me stay with you. I can't say they were good days, but I can't say they were bad either. It was an experience, a little eye-opening.
With each word I write, I hope to hear a knock on the door. I'm not sure why you would knock on your own door, but it's just what I envisioned. First, I see you opening the door and me running towards you, and then giving you a big hug, perhaps a kiss, perhaps more.
I keep glancing at that damned door. Why aren’t you here?
If you care about me, I want you not to worry, I will be alright. I'll be heading north, maybe east, maybe west across the Pacific Ocean. I know what you’re thinking, that's a lot of maybe's. But it’s the confusion that comes with living in this part of the world. This awful part of the world. Everyone wants to be famous in this town. Everyone thinks they are the shit. But not you, you're Bob Martin, a humble man.
Anyway, I'm gone now, as you can tell. I hoped to say this to you face to face, but a letter just seemed more appropriate.
Good luck to you,
Kristine,
PS: my real name is … maybe I’ll tell you if I ever get to see you again.
I crumpled up the letter after reading it and tossed it into the trash can. Then I took off my tie and sat on the couch. I took out my phone and scrolled to the name Murad. Murad answered the phone in his Staten Island accent.
“How you doing Rob?”
"Murad,” I said, “I need a girl. A young one.”
“What, like a sixteen-year-old?”
“No, God no! Not that young. Legal age, but still young. Blonde, blue eyes, tall, nice body."
"Say no more my friend, I have a fresh new girl that fits the profile. She just started yesterday. I'll have her over to you in an hour. She goes by the name Natalie. Always the best for you my friend."
I hung up the phone and walked over to the window. Glendale California, what a nice place to live. I'd like to move the family out here one day. It’s clean, cops are a-plenty, no one messes with you, and it’s nestled between the Hollywood Hills and the San Fernando Mountains, sitting in its sheltered world.
The Oligarch (Robert Martin Book 1) Page 8
