Tobacco-Stained Mountain Goat, page 22
“Did that ever include Josephine Colman? The mother of your child?”
“I don’t mean to sound crass, Floyd, but I never loved the woman. She was a casual affair and our daughter Corinne was an accident. But there’s the proof of what I’m telling you—how do you think someone of Corinne’s age, an illegitimate child no less, survived with a crippled leg for as long as she did? She was never on any Deviancy list. She didn’t officially exist.”
“And now she’s dead.”
“Well, I didn’t count on her running away from home.”
“But what did you expect? This wasn’t really her home, was it? You kept her from her mother.”
“Josephine understood the situation—she knew if she held on to Corinne, it could only end in our daughter’s Relocation. A withered leg like that is impossible to hide. Josephine knew I had the means to shield our child from that fate. She gave her to me, Floyd, it’s not as if I kidnapped her.”
“Bollocks, you—” And then I came to a realization. I gave it a moment’s thought, then started over, “You’re even more of a prick than I had you pegged for. I didn’t put that bit together till just now. You used the goddamn Bill of Deviations as leverage to get custody of her.”
“The Bill was destined to happen either way—my interests dovetailed, nothing more. I do try to make the best of any opportunity once it shows itself to me. And regardless, my boy, may I remind you that you are the one who killed her? You did that. Please don’t push the blame onto me.”
“Yeah, it’s all my fault.”
“Floyd. You act indignant, but exactly how many Deviants have you Relocated? How many of those people had families? How many loved ones did you gift wrap and send on to a Hospital? You were aware of the truth. Not all of them seemed like Deviants, did they? Yet you still did your job. Oh, I’ve read your file. I know at first it was to help protect your wife, Veronica, after she was Hospitalized. But once she passed away, you remained a Seeker, didn’t you? The truth is you’re not some sort of hero, so please do not make me out to be your villain.”
This silenced me. The man had a point, not that I really wanted to admit it. I refilled my glass and immediately finished off the drink before pouring myself another. Deaps politely nodded towards his glass and I topped his up as well.
“So I’m guessing you’re now going to try telling me we’re one and the same, or some such crap.”
“No. We’re not the same, Floyd. We’re completely different. I’m only pointing out the details you seem intent on glossing over. I also don’t believe you understand the gravity of the situation you’re in—in less than a month, I will have control of this city, which, worth mentioning, represents the sum total of human life at the current time. Furthermore, I will be welcomed by the fearful populace as their saviour, having rescued them from their Deviants. And trust me, those buffoons in office are as Deviant as they come, corrupt and vile.”
“Glad we can agree on something.”
“Believe me, I have the video and photographic evidence to prove it. The entire government stands guilty, and soon will be charged. Relocating them is best for everyone. And I have something special planned for you, Floyd. You’ll be the face of this salvation on network TV, in charge of a stunning sequence of Activities that ends the rank corruption at the very top of our government. People will be shaking your hand as you walk down the street. Every drink will be on the house for the rest of your life. Don’t you see the position we’re in? How often do you get a chance to save the world?”
“Save it? You’ll be riding rough-shod over it instead.”
“And you would be right there at my side. You would most certainly share in the glory.”
“You think I want that?”
“No, Floyd. I think you want to be a depressed, second-rate drunk hurtling towards oblivion. Of course you want it. You’re many things, but you’re no idiot.”
“Before I got here today you were nine tenths done stealing my life from me.”
“That’s a rather melodramatic way to look at things. Do you still not see? I can grant you a new life—one in which you get to play the hero. A flawed one, admittedly, but aren’t they always the best kind?”
“And in return I’m supposed to just blow off what you did? Ditch Laurel and forget that you were about to have me Relocate my own sister?”
“We discussed this, Floyd. You have proven your value to me. The Activities tomorrow night targeting Dorothy Maquina will be cancelled and I intend to have Laurel, as you call her, released from Hospital. Neither of these women were important to me—as I said, it wasn’t revenge so much as a balancing of the books. What you have thus far achieved and what you are about to do for me will more than suffice in that regard. I loved my daughter, Floyd. I really did. I’m devastated by her loss and I miss her. But I also understand I can’t bring her back any more than you can.”
“Prove it.”
“Prove what? That I loved my daughter?”
“No. I mean about Laurel. About Dorothy. Make it happen.”
“Well, of course—you have my word, Floyd.”
“I don’t want your word. I want you to free Laurel, right now. Have her brought here.”
“I’m afraid you may have to wait a mite longer than that. A Hospital has rules, regulations—”
“Break them. That’s nothing new for you.”
Deaps looked at me, nodded, and stood. He walked over to a bookshelf where an antique rotary resided. He picked it up and made a few phone calls while I sipped my drink, surprised the phone could even connect to the system. I supposed it was possible Deaps was calling security to have me picked up and Relocated, but something about his demeanour seemed, dare I say it, honest. He actually believed the horseshit he was hawking. Granted, it was first-class Grade A horseshit, but the guy made some compelling points for a megalomaniac.
After replacing the black receiver in its brass cradle, Deaps returned to the couch. “Done and done. Dorothy Maquina will go on newscasting. In fact, she’ll get the exclusive. Why not have her share in our success? And Miss Canyon—your Laurel—will arrive here tonight. Safe and sound. I’m a businessman, Floyd. Not a monster.”
“You’re serious about this.”
“Why on earth wouldn’t I be?”
“But—”
“But I’m the bad guy? Oh, for goodness sake, Floyd. Please give this a little more thought. Over a decade of instruction under the Bill of Deviations has helped to prepare public awareness. You served, in your own way, in making this happen. Good marketing is the key to the success of any organization. The theory follows that one must identify the target market—in this case the somewhat paranoid society we strive to maintain—then analyze its needs, research the potential, create the product to suit said needs, and thereafter promote the product.”
“And what product is that?”
“Me, Floyd. Me. Together we can stop the corruption that twists this city inside out and bring the people in from the darkness. We are in an epic battle, tackling the graft and greed and lies of modern times head on. We can bring an end to Deviancy, and help the people sleep easy at night. This isn’t about being an evil dictator—in fact, I’ll be welcomed with open arms and celebrated as a benevolent leader. And you, son, you will be one of my Saints. We are, after all, the good guys.”
“Ah. And you can end Deviancy because it was never really an issue to begin with. You created your own evil to slay.”
“Tell that to someone on the street. Reality and perception are entirely different things, and let me tell you, Floyd, reality is the lesser of the two.” I look down at Deaps’ tumbler. Last time I’d checked he’d nearly finished his drink, but now it was full to the brim again. The man had managed to mesmerize me—I hadn’t even noticed him picking the bottle up.
“Can I ask you a stupid question?”
“Have I stopped you before?”
“Those goons at the restaurant, the ones who shot up the place. They weren’t real Devs, were they?”
“Controllers. Two of our most loyal.”
“Right-O.” The man didn’t mince words, I’ll give him that.
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t like the answer, Floyd, but it is what it is. We needed you to be a hero and we also needed to escalate the Deviant threat. An opportunity presented itself to accomplish both. You have to understand that those living in the Dome needed to know fear too. In fact, it was essential that the upper crust didn’t feel safe. You performed admirably, though, didn’t you? Rather a good show indeed.”
“So it was staged. And more people lost their lives.”
“Are you fishing for guilt? Then let me ask you a question, Floyd: did you feel guilt over all of the people you Relocated?”
“Yes, I did. Do.”
“Well there you go. Yet you continue nonetheless. Imagine that. We all do what we must and live with what we’ve done.”
“So all the Dev activity lately has been orchestrated by you? The bombings and the riots?”
“No. Not exactly staged. We re-conditioned some Deviants at a Hospital and released them out into the wild.”
“Re-conditioned.”
“Why, yes. Let’s just say that some of the fellows we netted were later released a bit more violent and unpredictable than when we pulled them in.”
“You turned sane people into twenty-four carat Deviants.”
“Yes, if you want to put it that way.”
“You’re not exactly good at keeping secrets.”
“Why should I? You’ve sorted enough out. You know the stakes. There is no reason to hide any of this from you. Despite what schools teach, in some cases the end does justify the means. We’re going to usher in a new era of prosperity and safety, putting an end to Deviancy and getting rid of that fool government of ours in the process.”
“So you say.”
“So I do. Another glass?”
“Yeah.”
As he refills my glass I try to counter him. “I still don’t get it. You say I’ve done my bit—so you don’t really need me anymore.”
“To the contrary, we need you now more than ever. It’s fascinating, the impact you’ve had. Don’t misunderstand me, we would have made it through perfectly well without you if you had done something rash after this weekend’s Activities. It would have been reported that you’d died a hero’s death, a martyr to our cause—but all things considered, I feel much more comfortable with you on the team. My men tell me that some of your slang is being adopted by the young people. Now that’s impressive, and it just goes to show the kind of draw you have. I don’t know how you managed to pull it off, but according to marketing research you’re incredibly popular across all demographics. A little something for everyone.”
The entry bell rang and the old man smiled. “That should be her.”
“I’ll answer it,” I said, jumping up.
“Be my guest.”
I made my way back to the entryway and opened the door. Laurel was just outside, looking a bit confused. Nobody was with her—security had dropped her off like a package. She was dressed in a short, stained medical robe and paper slippers, her hair hacked unevenly short and a livid bruise on her left cheek. That Bacall mouth of hers was swollen in one corner, and her left arm was supported in a sling—yet I could still see the old strength, the smouldering fire in her.
“So what took you so long?” Laurel’s tone gave nothing away.
“I had other engagements. Is it always this complicated to see you?”
“That depends—how’s Thursby?”
“Just dandy.”
We killed the space between us with an embrace, though I was careful not to bang up her arm. I gently eased her away from me and touched her lower lip, holding the moment as best I could before leading her inside.
“I don’t suppose you know where I misplaced my gloves?” Her eyes drifted over to Deaps and there was a glimmer of venom. “Ah. I see you’ve made a new friend?”
Deaps took advantage of the question to insert his two cents. “Good evening, Miss Canyon. Charmed, I’m sure. If you go up the stairs in the passageway there, you’ll find that the room on your left has its own bathroom. Feel free to freshen up—there are some clothes in the wardrobe that should fit you. They were my daughter’s. Afterward, you might enjoy a bite to eat in the kitchen, which is down that way. Be a good dear and make yourself at home.”
I nodded. “It’s a good plan, darling. El Presidente and I need to continue our chat.” I gave her a wink, then looked to Deaps, who began walking back to the study. She gave a questioning look towards him as her hand fell over mine. “Be careful.”
“You know me.” I turned and followed Deaps, while Laurel headed upstairs.
“I must say, that was all exceptionally moving,” Deaps remarked as we returned to that enormous study of his. I picked out a bottle from a built in wine rack along one wall and examined it, then glanced at the old man.
“You know, I ought to bludgeon you with this for the hurt your minions put her through.”
“That’s a Dom Pérignon 1961. It would be a pity to break it.”
“Yeah. I guess you have a point.”
“You know, in France they had liberty, equality, and fraternity for over two hundred and fifty years of republican democracy—and what did that produce? Dom Pérignon and Moët et Chandon. Champagne. Perhaps France’s only contribution to culture, aside from the French fry—and that was American, anyhow. Not the grandest advertisement for democracy, I’d wager.”
“You’re forgetting Lillet, Armagnac, and Cognac. And what did we ever give the world aside from Vegemite on toast? Not that I’m knocking it.”
Deaps ignored the question. “Shall we pop open a bottle of the bubbly, then, to celebrate the reunion of the happy couple? You can put that one back. Or better still, you can take it home to share. I have a chilled Dom in the refrigerator.” He went off to get it, returning with the bottle and selected some glasses at the bar.
“You know, I’m rather chuffed that we could have this time together, Floyd.” He popped the cork and chuckled slightly to himself. “It was a long time coming.”
“I suppose.”
“No, really. It’s excellent to have our cards all neatly laid out on the table. No misunderstandings.”
“Agreed.” I finished off my whisky. “One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have heard of Sam Spade, or Philip Marlowe, would you? It’d put you in solid with me if you had.”
“No, I don’t believe I have. Not more friends of yours that need favours?”
“Actually, they’re my favourite gumshoes, both best played by Humphrey Bogart.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Maybe nothing. Then again, maybe everything. Listen carefully—I’m only going to tell you this once.”
“Go ahead, I’m all ears.”
“Well, Deaps, both Spade and Marlowe had a certain approach to things—I guess you could call it a gritty combination of honour and integrity that coloured their actions. It’s something I always respected. Now, I do my best in this world, which isn’t saying all that much.” I start walking towards him. “I know I’m basically a fuck up. But I hope, at the very least, that I’m one of the good guys. I try to be. God knows, I don’t want to be one of the bad guys. You see, when a man’s partner is killed, he’s supposed to do something about it. She was your wife and you loved her and you’re goddamned well supposed to do something about it. I know you appreciate that it’s bad business to let the killer get away with it, bad all around, bad for every man everywhere. And, like you mentioned before, I too believe in making the best of it when an opportunity presents itself.”
Deaps looks at me, not comprehending where I’m taking this. He sips at his champagne, and while his head is tilted slightly back and the glass is still touching his lips I do what Bogart’s Spade couldn’t do in the ’40s because of the Hays Code, but what Elliott Gould’s Marlowe could in the ’70s after the code was ditched—in one quick, fluid movement I pull out my gun and place the barrel up against his temple, putting a bullet in his head. Deaps falls back into his seat, dead on arrival.
the big full stop
I had a few phone calls I had to make before I could think about anything else. I picked up Deaps’ old black Western Electric 5302 rotary dial phone and placed it on my lap, then took out my Mitt-Mate. It didn’t turn on at first, so I gave it a good shake and the gadget blinked, went quiet, and then whirred into gear. I checked a number on it and dialed using the old phone. It was a clumsy thing to use.
“Hello, Mac? Maquina. That’s right. Mm-hmm. Wolram E. Deaps just topped himself off. Yep. As a doornail. Seems he’d become extremely paranoid—thought he was going to be outed as a genotypic Dev and Relocated any day now. The guy was horrified of the scandal. Hmm—? I’m there now. Sizing up his corpse. He’d asked me over, yeah—I was told it was to congratulate me but I guess he cooked up other plans. I really don’t know, he was a bit out of his gourd, going on about being a Dev and if anyone was to take him in it should be me. Yeah. No, of course I refused—thought he’d calm down, but instead he offed himself before I could do fuck all to stop the bastard. The thing is, I need you to come over and tidy things a bit—I’m not officially on the job.”
I moved the phone to the crook of my neck so I could wipe down the pistol with a cloth. Then I did my best to get Deaps’ prints on the gun’s grip before placing it near his hand. Rest in peace, arsehole. I hadn’t used my service revolver—in addition to sorting my tab with Ziggy I’d promised I’d owe him a favour in order to get this one special.
“He used an antique revolver, a—”, I paused for effect, “—Webley-Fosbery, an old Limey number I guess. Listen, Mac, let Forensics worry about that. Remember a certain something I did for you a while back? I’m dead serious. Yeah, so what I need from you is this—downplay my presence here as much as possible. Make sure everything fits, if you get my drift. Mmm. Try not to tie me up to anything. Uh-uh. Yeah, I know it’s a big ask. But you owe me a big one, remember? Okay. Yep. I know, you’re welcome, and we’re even now. Stop right there—no inappropriate rambling tonight. Focus, okay? Okay? Got it, Mac? Good.”
