In front of the door, a small lamp will illuminate the woman and the girl from above.
“And please ask your vitamin-filled friend to put down the dagger she wears up her sleeve too,” the image will add.
“Why couldn’t you turn the light on first? You nearly made us break our necks.”
“Saki, my dear, so it will be more interesting, for me. Please, now, do as I told you.”
Pig.
The woman will unbutton her skirt in the front, uncovering her right leg and pulling out the small pulse gun fastened with a sheath inside her thigh, laying it on the chest of drawers. The girl will remove her stiletto from her left forearm, laying it in the chest of drawers, then take back the cassette in her hand.
“Second floor!” the voice on the column will shout cheerfully.
The woman and the girl will enter the iron elevator. The woman will close the door and push the button, causing the old elevator to move, rising slowly, rattling in the night. When it opens, they will walk down a corridor to an old sliding door, which the woman will slowly open.
“Saki, love,” the thin man will say, comfortably seated in an armchair behind an antique desk. “Sit down. Thank you for coming so promptly and thoughtfully. But what did your friend bring?”
The room, a square of about ten meters on each side, with racks on the walls containing various objects of different sizes, will have a wooden floor, in the middle of which an ancient table will be placed on a carpet with scattered pots and jewelry. At the end, behind the solid wood desk with important handles and red leather padding, the thin man will be perched with one leg swung over an armrest.
“It doesn’t matter. One night won’t kill her. Did you have fun, at least?”
“I think so. She’s a nice little girl. But doesn’t her father ever come?”
The woman will raise her arms.
“We’ve already talked about that, I think. The father doesn’t exist. What about you? Do you have anyone?”
“Who, a woman, you mean?”
“I don’t know.” She will smile. “Or a man...”
“No. In fact, no. Not at the moment.”
The man will sit at the table and rest his hand on one ear, brushing his unkempt hair. “Did things go well at work?”
The woman will raise a hand. “The Greek shouted for twenty minutes, humiliated me in front of the other waitress, but then probably decided that for that miserable amount he pays me, it wasn’t worthwhile for him to try to replace me,” she will answer, resting her head on the chair back. “So, I think I’ll keep my job. For a while, at least.”
The two will be silent for a while.
“And you?” the woman will ask. “Did the visit go well, then?”
“The visit? Ah, yes. Yes, of course. Everything’s fine.”
“And that package you had in your hand?”
“It’s in the shed. Locked up.”
The woman will nod. She will remain silent for a few moments, then rest her chin on her hands.
“But who are you? Maybe you could tell me, since you’re leaving tomorrow. Just to know who I hosted.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. And anyway, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Well, you can try.”
The man will look out the window into the dark. “No, better not.”
“Ok, I won’t insist. But I’m watching you, you know. You don’t look like the type who talks shit, and I really think you could be some kind of scholar, something like that. Not because of your clothes, but the way you act. Your hands don’t show heavy work, and your face wouldn’t be comfortable in the places I’ve frequented for many years.”
The woman will immediately notice the pulse gun on the desk. “Is this your place?” the woman will ask as she approaches.
“A little deal. I bought it years ago, bribing some local officials. Really unique, isn’t it? And ideal for my night deliveries. No traffic, ample parking, absent neighbors...”
The woman will nod at the wooden box in the girl’s hands. “A little gift for you, a present. It didn’t seem nice for me to come empty-handed.”
She will look around the room, with the original and unpolished wooden walls, typical of a construction originally designed as an observation tower and probably never modified. The inharmonious collection of art of different and dubious provenance will give an impression of confusion and lack of taste.
“Oh, Saki, you’re a treasure. What an exquisite, classy woman,” the thin man will comment, lifting his leg out of his chair and sitting straight. “Did I ever tell you?”
“Perhaps once, I think. I don’t keep score, actually.”
“Well, let me see, please. Do you want to put it on the desk, my dear?” The thin man will smile at the girl.
Reading his lips, she will look at the woman by her side, who will consent with a nod. The girl will unceremoniously toss the wooden box onto the table.
“And now, do you mind opening it?” the thin man will ask with condescension.
“It’s not a bomb. You can open it yourself.”
“Come on,” the thin man will insist, indicating the box with his head. “Do as I tell you.”
The woman, sighing, will open the box and pull out a bottle of whisky, leaving the lid open. “I told you. Just a gift.”
The thin man will look at the bottle, amazed, then get up, holding the gun with his left, approaching the package with his right. Then, he’ll pull out the five bottles left inside. “I’m impressed.”
“You know, I wouldn’t want to shock you, but I’ve gotten a few beers in infamous clubs too.”
“Yes.” She will smile. “I imagined this was your idea of a dangerous place.”
The man will not return the smile.
“Then, listen. I don’t know what your idea of dangerous places is. I have no idea. In fact, you know what? I don’t think there are really any safe places. Until forty-eight hours ago, I thought I was in the safest place in the world and doing the quietest and perhaps most boring and repetitive job that exists. Same times, same faces, same people, same places. I used to write, read, and talk most of the time. I’ve never punched anyone in my life. And then, one morning, I find that the world has collapsed on me. And all the security I had just slipped through my fingers. Money, friends, home. I don’t know if you’ve ever known what it’s like to feel lost.”
More than once.
“Well, I felt that way. And then, I found you, by chance. And that’s it. If you don’t mind, I wouldn’t want to say anything else. All the more because, as you said, we’ll say goodbye tomorrow morning, right?”
The woman will watch him in silence for a while. “Do you already know where to go?”
“Not yet. But I have some ideas. I think I’m done for. But first, I have to understand. And I want to put some salt on someone’s tail, if I can.”
“Someone dangerous?”
“I think so.”
The woman will look down. “Aren’t you afraid?”
In the distance, they will hear the sound of a siren in the air somewhere, probably an airborne ambulance.
“Yes, I am.”
The woman will shake her head. “So, why do you do it?”
He will shrug his shoulders. “Perhaps because my best friend is dead. Or maybe because I want to know why someone thinks they can destroy my life, as if nothing had happened.” He will scratch at the table with his index finger. “I think it’s my right to know.”
The thin man will look at the labels on the bottles. “But how do you know my tastes?”
You have two tastes. Sluts and whiskey. “I guessed.”
“And did you bring the money too?”
The woman will open her purse, pulling out a package that she will throw onto the table. “Six hundred thousand. In Eurodollars. You can count them if you want.”
The thin man will open the package with his right hand and leaf over the six packets of banknotes, counting mentally.
; “Can we sit down?” the woman will ask.
The man will remain absorbed in counting, flipping with his right hand.
“Huh? Oh. Of course, how rude.” He will respond with a gesture with his left hand, which will be holding the gun. “Sit down, please.”
The women will sit in a chair in front of the desk, beckoning the girl to do the same with the chair next to her. The man will continue to count banknote stacks.
“And now, if the formalities are over, can we see the goods?” the woman will ask.
The man will look at the two women, baring his usual steel trap between his lips. “Certainly. Certainly. But first, a toast.” He will carelessly stow the gun in the holster under his left shoulder in an oversized red jacket, open a cabinet next to the desk, and pull out six glasses, which he will place on the table. The women will watch curiously as the man opens all six bottles and pours the liquor into the glasses until they fill about half of them. “We must toast,” the thin man will repeat.
“I don’t see any other guests. It’s just us.”
The thin man will quickly switch the glasses on the table, making them turn with great skill, like a dice or dealer in a gambling game, placing the six glasses in front of the two women.
“I know. I know. Please help yourself. Take one.”
“It’s not poisoned,” the woman will say, winking. “If that’s what you think.”
“Oh, but I don’t think anything. But in my profession, prudence is an obligation.”
The woman will remain silent for a while, then look at the clock absent-mindedly, almost three at night. It will start raining.
“But why did he die? Did someone kill him? And why are you running away from these people?”
The man will remain silent.
“Look, while we’re at it, I think I have rights too,” the black woman will roar. “Because if someone knocked on my door tomorrow and asked me if I hosted a man wanted by the police, what I should say? Or worse, if some criminal knocks on the door and asks me what happened to you? You ran off last night, you saw I don’t know who, and you came back with a package of I don’t know what. It’s not drugs, by any chance?”
The man will return her gaze, wearily. “All I can tell you is that I haven’t committed any crime, all right? I’m not a criminal. I didn’t kill anyone, I didn’t rob a bank, I don’t take drugs. The strongest thing I took in my life was a few joints as a kid, when I was studying college, to impress some girl.” He will get up and look out the window. “Not that it worked, by the way.”
“But then why is all this happening?” she will ask, spreading her arms. “What are you doing here, in my house?”
The man will continue to look out the window, shaking his head.
“So, if you don’t want to tell me anything...,” she will say, getting up in turn, “then I’d better go to bed. I have to take Niki to school tomorrow. I mean, in four hours, about. Will you wait to have breakfast with me, or are you leaving earlier?”
“No, I’ll wait for you. Anyway, I’m not telling you anything because I don’t want to involve you in something bad. That’s all.”
She will nod, starting toward the stairs. The man will hear some steps on the stairs, then the woman will turn back.
“Look, I wanted to thank you for tonight,” she will say, looking out the door of the living room “For Niki, I mean. I was pleased.”
The man will have a tired, stubbled face. He won’t say anything.
The woman will turn around and go up the stairs.
The woman will unwillingly take a glass. “Chiyeko does not drink. She never drank; she hates alcohol.”
The man will open his hands and smile. “Sooner or later she will have to start, won’t she?”
The woman will gesture to the girl. She will take the drink, swallow a sip of it, and make a disgusted grimace, coughing and then spitting on the ground.
The man will not be able to hold back his laugh, slapping his right hand on his thigh. “Too much fun. Really, you should have seen what you did,” he will finally tell the girl.
“Now,” the woman will say, rudely banging the glass on the table. “The goods. Can we see them?”
The man in turn will drink from his glass. “Great, really great,” he will comment, wiping his lips with the edge of his sleeve. “Oh, yes, yes. Of course... that’s it.” He will get up, reach for the rack, take a black tube from the third shelf, and return to the chair, whistling. He’ll put the object on the desk in front of the woman. “An unsurpassed lens. The best I’ve ever built, probably.”
The woman will carefully inspect the object, which will consist of two visors integrated into a single structure.
“Bilateral optics, integrated night vision, modular lenses, of the highest quality,” the thin man will comment. “What I promised you.”
The woman will carefully examine the object, then take it and stand up, pointing to the window.
“May I?”
“Of course, sit down.”
The woman will go to the window, slide the wooden panel, look out, bring the optics to her eyes, and watch the bay in the distance, slowly rotating the pivots and side hinges. For a few moments, she will stand and watch in the dark. “Perfect,” she will comment, returning to her place. “You have done a good job.”
“An extraordinary job,” the thin man will correct.
The woman will remain standing, tucking the item into her purse.
Whiley won’t be able to sleep. It won’t be the cool night, although he sleeps in his T-shirt and underwear. It won’t be because the two wool blankets are too short or due to the relative discomfort of the sofa. It will be because of tomorrow’s uncertainty. He will check the personal display on his left arm, looking at the figures in phosphorescent green. Just past four. His will continue to think about what he will have to do in a few hours. His idea will be simple, and he’s been working on it for a while in the dark. On one hand, ask Madison to help him with the investigation. She’s a journalist, used to doing research, and therefore, knowing what to look for; it shouldn’t be a problem. He’ll tell her everything she needs, what he knows, and put her on the trail. Then, it will be up to her to find out what can be found, if there are really connections, and if his hypothesis stands up. On the other hand, he will have to think about how to escape Chicago, where to go, and how to stay there without being discovered. After Madison’s article is published, if they can find out anything, he’ll have to run away and disappear forever. Of course, he can’t think of hiding in that suburban cottage; they’d find him, sooner or later. But who are they? He will think he’s going to have to look for James Daft, Operations Coordinator tomorrow.
At that moment, he will hear it. Noises in the upstairs bathroom. Then, the steps on the stairs, light. Whiley will look through the drawing-room, trying to see in the dark. The light sliding door will open very slowly, closing just as slowly. The living room will be dimly lit, and the faint moonlight will filter in from the garden through the pink curtains. But it will not be difficult to understand that the woman will be approaching, silently, barefoot, and she will be wearing a white dressing gown. The black woman will raise the wool blankets and lie next to him on the cot, or rather almost above, given the limited space, her right leg resting on his. Her face will be serious, blanketed in the great mass of curly hair.
She will kiss him fleetingly on the mouth.
It will taste of toothpaste.
“Can’t you sleep either?” he will ask softly.
“Well” the Japanese woman will say, turning around, “if there is nothing else to discuss...”
The thin man will look at the woman standing, then the seated girl.
“Oh, well. If you don’t want to stay…”
“Maybe another time. Thank you,” the woman will answer, beckoning the girl to get up.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Anyway, it was a pleasure to do business with you, Saki,” the thin man will comment, pointing to the door at the end of th
e room. “Please, I’ll accompany you.”
“Thank you, until next time,” the woman will murmur, starting past him, followed by the girl.
“Whenever you want, Saki, give me a whistle. I am always available...,” he will add cheerfully, following the woman, looking at her behind.
Whiley won’t know if the question is silly, given the situation, or whether the situation deserves a silly question.
“Please say something,” she will add.
Whiley will think she’s got very white teeth. “You have very white teeth.”
Her laughter will sound muffled.
“I meant to say something a little smarter.” He will observe the outline of her face in the dim light. “I’m not very smart.”
The woman will smile, whispering, “I think so.”
“And that’s why you’re here?”
It won’t sound very nice, but she will understand that nervousness sometimes plays tricks on people. “I don’t even know why I’m here. You may not believe it, but I don’t sleep with the first one who comes along. I haven’t been with a man in years.”
Whiley will feel the woman’s body near him, fleetingly glancing at the contours of her breasts through the dressing gown, open in the front.
“Why shouldn’t I believe you?”
The woman’s mouth will close on his, while her hand will move onto the man’s groin. “Do you think I’m not a good woman?”
He will still look at her face, the oval almost perfect, thinking that her teeth are truly white. “May I say what I really think?”
“You should.”
“I think with those pants today you had a fairytale ass.”
She will smother a laugh again. “And now you’re disappointed,” she will tease, laying the palm of her right hand on his penis. He will rest his left hand, softly, on her buttock, feeling it as firm as marble.
Futura: Parallel Universes. Book 2 Page 16