The whisper, p.3
The Whisper, page 3
Ken groped for a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table and lit one.
“How are you doing?” he addressed Glen.
“How do you think I’m doing if I’m here?”
Ken was so obviously, so ridiculously frightened. His eyes were running all over the room as he tried to evade Glen’s glare. His shriveled hand was shaking as he put the cigarette in his mouth. Jasper hoped it would make Glen relent a little.
“You don’t know my wife, do you? This is Cheryl.” Ken pointed the cigarette to the woman.
“Listen,” Glen said, “I have no time to stand here and watch you pretend like you have no idea why we’re here. Let’s get straight to the point. I think Jasper has something really important to tell you.”
Jasper lowered his head, rubbed the back of his neck, and crossed hands over his chest. Glen seemed to be the only person among them who felt completely relaxed.
“You guys think I could talk to him in private for a second?” Jasper addressed both Cheryl and Glen.
Those two answered simultaneously, though their answers were completely different. In the resulting silence, they exchanged confused glances.
“You talk right here in front of me,” Glen ordered.
Cheryl sauntered to the couch and plopped down, as if preparing to watch a talk show. If Glen was allowed to listen, why wasn’t she?
“I don’t have a lot to say,” Jasper said. “Glen’s right. You know why we’re here.”
Ken came closer to him and leaned in, trying to make their conversation as quiet as possible. Jasper recoiled as he sensed the strong smell of sweat and cheap tobacco.
“I know why you’re here,” Ken whispered. “I don’t know why you had to bring him along.” He gestured at Glen with a slight tilt of his head.
“Hey, Ken,” Glen interfered, “the whole point of me being here is so I can hear you. Speak up, darling.”
“How much is it?”
“Forty-seven,” Jasper answered.
“Yesterday you said it was over sixty,” Glen pointed out.
“I think my math was incorrect.” That was a lie. “I must’ve charged him for the previous month by mistake.” Another lie. “Anyway, I checked it, and there was a total of forty-seven bucks.” A major lie.
Jasper didn’t have to do any math to know exactly how much Ken owed. He hoped that if he wrote off a small part of the debt—not too big to make Glen suspicious—Ken would be able to give the money. Jasper was frustrated to realize that his attempt was in vain, for even the final number put Ken on the verge of tears. The cigarette in Ken’s hand had smoldered up to the filter, even though he had only taken a couple of drags.
“You…” Ken made an immense effort for his voice not to tremble. “You do understand that I don’t have that kind of money on me right now.”
That was it. That was the stumbling block of their conversation. Glen would want to hear nothing more. He had been waiting for these words all along. Ken thought he knew what consequences he was about to face. He pulled himself together as best he could, expecting to get his share of threats, maybe a few bruises, and go on with his life. What he didn’t know was that this time Glen would be willing to resort to more radical measures.
“And you do understand that you’re not gonna get away with this today.” Glen kept calm, one of the ways to express his anger that he had learned from Owen Arlington. “Why do you guys like to play with fire? I mean, you clearly understand what you can’t afford. You know what people you deal with, but you keep coming for more. Why? Cause dope really matters to you more than a full set of teeth?”
Ken stayed silent. Glen took a step forward when Jasper plunged ahead of him, tossing Ken the very last chance, one he was sure could hardly make any difference. Yet he hoped it was worth a try.
“Listen, Ken, that guy over there.” Jasper shot Glen a glance. “He clearly didn’t come here for chitchat.” He wanted it to sound like a fair warning, but it came out as a threat. “There’s a gun behind his belt, and he would very much like to use it. I’m trying to help you with this.”
He gradually raised his voice until he was yelling at the top of his lungs. “But how the fuck am I supposed to help you if you’re acting like you don’t give a shit? The least you can do right now is strain your brain and think harder about where you can get the fucking money!”
Glen smiled with a corner of his mouth. He rarely witnessed the outbursts of Jasper’s anger, but when he did he felt like he was watching an amateur stage actor.
“I’m not a magician, Jasper,” Ken said with his eyes down. “I can’t make money out of nothing.”
“Borrow, steal, sell your fucking kidney, do something while you can!”
Cheryl snorted at the brilliant advice. Jasper regarded her with a shrewd gaze.
Does the bitch realize that her husband’s life is dangling by a thread? Does the bitch care?
“I’ll make it easier,” Glen said before he pushed Ken against the wall.
Cheryl jumped from the couch with a gaping mouth.
Now the bitch cares.
“If I came here alone,” Glen hissed, holding Ken by the collar of his t-shirt, “I wouldn’t be wasting my time talking.”
“Wait, buddy,” Ken appealed. “You… You’re right. I know what I can’t afford, but Jasper has known me long enough to know that too. I’m not the only one responsible for it.”
Jasper didn’t take it as a stab in the back. In fact, he was glad the bastard was resourceful enough to say something in his defense. Glen let go of Ken and took a few steps back.
“As much as I share your point, pal,” Glen said, “friendship requires me to choose his side.”
He gave Jasper a formidable look before pulling Old Harry from behind his belt. Cheryl let out a scream of terror as she heard a snap of the safety. Ken held his breath, watching every shift of Glen’s finger on the trigger. Ken could almost feel its pressure increase and subside with unbearable slowness, and the desperate appeals of his wife only aggravated the feeling. As Glen was about to pull the trigger, Jasper’s attention was drawn to a weak glint of metal.
“WAIT!” Jasper screamed.
A silence fell in the room, all eyes turned to him.
“There… behind… his... back…” He was taking a deep breath after every word.
Glen lowered the gun and looked behind Ken’s shoulder. On an empty bookshelf covered with a thick layer of dust, he saw a watch with a leather belt and platinum framing. Glen brushed past Ken as if the latter was an interior item, picked up the watch, and studied it for a moment. Jasper took half a step forward, apprehensive that one wrong move could set Glen’s mind back to where it had left off.
“See the label?” Jasper asked.
“Yeah, looks like an Eclipse,” Glen muttered thoughtfully. “I’m afraid these days its value has decreased a little.”
“How much do you think Joe will give for it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a hundred percent sure it really is an Eclipse.”
“It is,” Ken confirmed, “but, um… it’s a family heirloom.”
“You serious?” Jasper scorched Ken with his eyes. “You think it’s more valuable than your life?”
“Maybe you should stop being so protective of him,” Glen said.
Cheryl approached her husband and embraced him, weeping into his neck.
“It’s a way out for both of us,” Jasper said.
“You really wanna bother yourself with going to 44th Street in the hopes that you can pawn the damn thing?” Glen said.
Ken was watching them from above his wife’s head.
“No,” Jasper said, loudly enough for him to hear, “Ken’s going himself. It shouldn’t take him more than a couple of hours. We have another visit to pay, don’t we? While Ken’s away, we can go to Higgins and collect the rest of the debts.”
Hopefully, this visit is going to be less intense.
“Wait a minute,” Ken said. “Where am I supposed to go?”
“The pawnshop on 44th, there’s a guy named Joe Montgomery who likes to collect useless crap like this.”
“This watch is not useless crap!” Ken resented. His wife was trying to quiet him down. “My great grandfather carried it all through the American Civil War!”
“Hope Joe will take it under consideration when he’ll be estimating its value,” Jasper said.
“There’s only one catch,” Glen said. “How can I be sure that he’ll be here when we come back?”
“Trust me, except Amber Mall and this house, he’s got nowhere else to go.”
“Again? I gotta rely on trust? No fucking way.”
Glen turned to the sweet couple.
“Blair, you realize that you’re limited in options, right?”
Ken gave a faint nod, holding his Cheryl tightly.
“I can take the gun and paint your walls red,” Glen went on. “Or I can take your wife on the trip to one of our friends as a guarantee that you come back. We’re gonna meet here in a couple of hours. You’ll give us the money, get your wife back, and we’ll never hear from each other again.”
Kenneth looked down at his wife as if begging for an apology.
Ken said he had managed to get only thirty-six dollars for the watch. Jasper knew Ken wasn’t lying based on how greedy and hypocritical Joe Montgomery was. You could hardly have a fair price determined in regular pawn shops, but in pawn shops partly based on illegal deals it was almost an impossible task. Bargaining was Joe’s favorite game. He always offered a ridiculously small price, and your job was to increase it little by little, precisely estimating at which point Joe could no longer be argued with.
Jasper accepted the money from Ken, aware that he would have to add a few bucks from his own pocket. Glen dropped him off at home in the afternoon, intending to pick him up later in the evening and drive him to the meeting the devil had appointed. When Jasper saw him for the second time, it was clear that he wasn’t the only disappointment for Glen that day.
“Why don’t you just pay for every crackhead yourself?” Glen said, keeping his eyes fixed blankly on the road.
“I’m trying to minimize the casualties, you know,” Jasper said. “Nobody would have benefited from Ken’s death.”
“Do you think I want to shoot him for sport or something? You think I don’t feel the same way about it as you do? Those are necessary casualties, and this is the concept of this job. If you show someone your weaknesses, you’ll never earn…”
“Respect?” Jasper prompted him.
“Yes, respect. Without it, people start to walk all over you. Today, you took pity on Blair. Tomorrow, any of those dicks from Amber Mall will think they can get away with anything as well, and then what? I’ll have to walk around Foster Valley, knock on the doors, and shoot everyone in sight! You give them a fucking opportunity to learn from someone’s mistakes!”
Jasper didn’t perceive it that way, but he preferred to stay silent.
Glen pulled up at the fenced area of the loading dock, which was covered by the shadows of adjacent buildings. The stream of legal and illegal deliveries in the Arlington Building was perfectly regulated. The loading dock was vast. Dozens of people there did their jobs without questioning its legitimacy. However, one gate accepted delivery only once, sometimes twice a month. It was the starting point of the route that, like an artery, ran through the hidden storages, up the freight elevator, to the seventy-third floor.
Those who took care of this part of the dock wore the same dark-blue overalls as the other laborers, but what distinguished them from the rest was that they knew every dealer, and it was up to them who would enter the building by that particular gate. This was one of the first precautions Owen Arlington had taken.
There were ten minutes left until the appointed time. When Jasper and Glen reached the seventy-third floor, it was already buzzing with voices. The line to Arlington’s office—his second office, where he hid his ego along with all the abnormalities of his secret life—stretched across the whole hallway. Jasper took his place at the end as Glen skipped the line, walking straight ahead.
An indignant whisper ran through the crowd when Glen was far enough not to hear it. Jasper never told Glen what these people said behind his back. For one thing, he didn’t want Glen to stress about it. For another, if someone found out that he was telling a horseman something a horseman was not supposed to hear, it would make his life in this place much more complicated.
The devil’s office was divided into two rooms. His accountant occupied the smaller one. Josh Everett was almost of the same age as Owen Arlington’s father, but his age was one of those traits that made him worthy of money management. His desk could fit only as much as a phone set, a typewriter, and a stack of papers.
The hallway was already empty by the time Josh was counting the bills Jasper had presented. He was counting them slowly, now and then checking something in his papers. Jasper was observing the whole procedure with maximum attention, doing his utmost to ignore what was happening in the other half of the office.
Through the open door, he could hear a highly intense conversation going on between the devil and the horsemen. An incomplete set. Morgan Blake was absent again. Arlington sat at his desk, staring at his locked fingers. Something crucial was under discussion, but the devil kept surprisingly quiet. Luis did the most talking, while Glen and Ben were hovering around. Jasper could hear brief passages of the discussion but couldn’t figure out what the whole fuss was about.
“It’s out of the question! You have to! Just do it, for Christ’s sake!”
When Luis cursed, yelled, or simply spoke in a loud voice, the Columbian features of his face seemed to awaken. It bewildered Jasper that Owen Arlington let someone talk to him this way.
Isn’t it a sign of disrespect after all?
Curiosity eventually overtook him, and Jasper ended up gawking, eavesdropping like a child. Children should never listen to grown-up conversations. Jasper didn’t notice as Arlington had caught him breaking that rule before it was too late. He turned away promptly, feeling the tension of the resulting silence. The horsemen followed the devil’s gaze, and in the nick of time Jasper became the center of everyone’s attention.
“The fuck are you looking at, dipshit?” Ben Elliot snapped.
Jasper honestly didn’t understand all the hatred for the horsemen. Maybe his solidarity was fully based on the fact that his only friend was one of them, but that aside it was clear the devil wouldn’t share his power with someone who didn’t deserve it. Jasper knew how much Glen had done for him. He knew Luis played the key role in cocaine transportation. And he saw Morgan so rarely that he’d come to believe that he was running Arlington’s errands around the clock.
As for Ben, Jasper didn’t give a damn about what he had done to earn his place by the devil’s side. Ben Elliot was an arrogant, self-indulgent bastard who treated the dealers like crap.
From time to time, Jasper actually caught himself referring to Ben as a fucking horseman.
From the corner of his eye, Jasper saw Ben heading his way. The accountant hadn’t finished counting the bills yet.
Come on, you old fart. The sum has got to be correct.
Josh was about to put the money into an envelope when Jasper figured all Ben wanted to do was to shut the door.
“Jasper.” The word slipped through a second before the door was closed.
It felt different, even odd, hearing his name spoken in this voice. Jasper turned his head to the doorway and suddenly realized that Owen Arlington, the owner of the Arlington Building, The Guardian Angel and the Devil of Acheart, addressed him directly. Jasper honestly couldn’t recall the last time Arlington had done so much as regard him with a quick glance, but now, as the door was wide open again, the devil’s eyes fixed on him. At some point, Arlington stood up from his desk and walked toward him, measuring Jasper with his eyes, hands in pockets.
Jasper felt a strange mixture of intimidation and excitement. Normally, it was only intimidation that Owen Arlington provoked, but having unbreakable eye contact with him topped the intimidation with a bit of enthusiasm. It was like hand-feeding a predator. You knew all the safety rules but couldn’t resist the temptation.
“Your name’s Jasper, isn’t it?” Arlington asked.
Jasper nodded slightly, wondering if maintaining eye contact made a predator more or less aggressive. The horsemen followed Arlington to the accountant’s half of the office and surrounded him like a pack of wolves.
Have I messed up? Does he know about the whole Kenneth Blair situation? Has he found out about the cocaine stored where it shouldn’t be?
Jasper looked at Glen but found only the same confusion on his face.
“I need your help,” Arlington said.
Jasper trailed off before he could say something.
“What kind of help would you need from him?” Ben said.
Jasper was thinking the same. Without a word, Arlington stepped aside, inviting him to the private part of his office. Nobody else. Just him. Jasper didn’t hesitate to obey. The door behind them closed—the cage was locked—and they were all alone, the predator and the prey.
“Have a seat,” Arlington said.
Jasper sank into one of the leather chairs and locked his fingers on his lap. Arlington sat back at his desk that took up a good half of the office. There was a vague scent of acrylic lacquers in the air. The office of the guardian angel forty-two floors below was a true millionaire’s office, expensive in every way possible, but this one, like the rest of the seventy-third floor, was doomed to be in the process of renovation forever.
Arlington smiled. Either consolingly or sarcastically, Jasper couldn’t tell.
“Jesus, relax. I don’t keep a chainsaw under the desk,” the devil said.
Jasper looked at his shaking hands. He rubbed the sweaty palms on the sides of his pants and tried to do what he had been told to—relax.
“How can I help you, Mr. Arlington?” he said, his voice trembling nearly at every syllable.
“You know who Emilio Marquez is?” It was a rhetorical question. Everyone who worked for Owen Arlington knew who Emilio Marquez was.
