Big Money

by James Hudson

  George returned to Sarah, who was trying to use a coffee machine. All her efforts were in vain. That looked ridiculous.

  “This is not your flat, is it?” George asked coldly. “Why are we here? Or tell me… who is coming to kill me?”

  Sarah smiled slyly. “This is my flat, George. I don’t stay here overnight. Just in case of an emergency.”

  “You don’t trust me?” George squinted his eyes. “Why don’t you show me your real flat?”

  Sarah sighed. “When I read the morning newspapers, I realized we are both in trouble, George.”

  George nodded thoughtfully. “So, you’re hiding here too?”

  “You wanted to sleep, didn’t you?” she asked tiredly. “Tell me, why do you hate me? I helped you get out of that shithole and so on… Am I ugly?”

  “No! You’re cool. Sorry… I really need to take a nap.”

  “Sure,” she nodded. “Coffee?”

  “No!” George grinned. “I’m going to sleep! By the way, you wanted to make breakfast.”

  “So, will you eat or sleep?” she asked.

  “I’m going to take a shower!” George exclaimed and went to the bathroom. He quickly hopped into the tub and turned on the faucet.

  Divine water! What a pleasure it was just to pour hot water over the body, feel shivers, feel blood flowing faster.

  A tiny piece of soap, a small half-empty bottle of shampoo, no towel… Am I in a cheap hotel?

  George didn’t turn off the faucet and jumped out of the tub. He didn’t know why he needed a towel right now. He slowly opened the door a crack, poked his head out and said loudly. “Sarah, any chance of having a towel?”

  He saw her in the room. Obviously, she wasn’t expecting his appearance. At the moment, they both stopped dead. George sighed. She was quickly turning over the papers she’d pulled out of George’s bag. Naked George darted toward Sarah and slapped her in the face. She didn’t scream, as if she was ready for that.

  “Who are you? Who are you working for? Walter Schmidt?”

  Water was dripping from his body. Her eyes sparkled with delight when she looked down.

  “Tell me the truth!” he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders.

  “You wanted a towel?” she purred. “You don’t need one!”

  She quickly fell down on her knees, squeezing his thighs.

  “Fucking slut!” George cried out and seized her by the throat.

  “Please, stop, honey!” she squeaked. “I was so afraid of your gun! I know you always have this horrible thing in your pocket. I’m afraid, George! I’m a girl! I don’t want you to kill people! I thought it would be better to throw it away.”

  “Throw it in the garbage container?” George asked mockingly.

  “Well, the garbage truck would pick up trash in the morning—”

  “You’re a stupid blonde!” George exclaimed.

  “Release my throat!” Sarah moaned.

  “No,” George grinned. “Let me examine your cell phone!”

  “What?”

  “Give me your fucking phone!”

  “George, you’re paranoid!” she whined.

  Suddenly, he noticed the gadget on the bedside table. “He quickly grabbed it and tapped the screen. Sarah tried to wriggle and get down on her knees. But George caught her by the hair. Sarah moaned again and stopped resisting. Of course, she played. If she really wanted to get free, she could easily kick naked George, but she didn’t.

  “Lie on the bed!” he ordered rudely. “Face down!”

  She obeyed immediately. “Should I undress?”

  “Shut up!” George barked. Why isn’t she crying, calling the police? He thought. Did she get used to such situations? And she wasn’t shocked by what happened back in the hotel. She said that she slept for several hours… How is it possible that this delicate girl wasn’t terrified by lots of deaths in that hotel room? She follows me, doesn’t squeal on me, wants something from me…

  “Wow!” George exclaimed, staring at the screen. “You called your mother while I was taking a shower. And at the same time, you were searching my bag. Interesting… Let’s call your mother again…”

  He glanced at her. She turned her face toward him. Her eyes were full of tenderness and love. She was waiting.

  Suddenly, George realized that even if Sarah was his enemy, he could do anything he wanted with her. George was paralyzed. The same situation must’ve taken place five years ago! With the future mother of my child! I seduced her, she believed me, I made her pregnant, and then sent her to India… Sarah has nothing to do with my wife but still… My wife must’ve lain on the bed in the same exact position, waiting for my actions. And a weak, submissive woman has always been my weakness…

  George gently touched Sarah’s hair. She took a deep sigh and closed her eyes. George leaned forward and licked her neck. It smelled like peaches. He ran his hand over her body, and then ripped her dress off. She smiled warmly and glanced at him with admiration. He couldn’t avert his eyes from hers. The next ten minutes, she repeated that she loved him a dozen times. But her words left him untouched. He was thinking about his wife, trying to imagine her.

  Suddenly, he grabbed her cell phone and said, “Let’s call your mother and tell her that we love each other. Let’s come over to your parents. We should get married immediately!”

  She gaped at him.

  George dialed the number and turned on the speaker.

  “Yeah, Sarah, what’s up?” a male voice asked.

  “I’m coming to you right now!” Sarah stammered out.

  “No!” the voice replied. “Have you tried all the strategies? Did you charge him with murders? Did you say you loved him?”

  George grinned. Sarah went pale as death.

  “I twisted my ankle,” she lied.

  George leaned to her ear and whispered, “I wanna have a baby!”

  Sarah gasped for air. “I’ll be in half an hour!” she cried out.

  “All right. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  42. Exiled to India

  “I can’t believe this man wanted to eliminate you and your child,” Katie flung up her hands. “He’s a monster!”

  “He deprived me of everything,” a skinny, black-haired woman about forty nodded. “He made a criminal out of me. I owed a big sum of money to the British bank. He ordered me out of the country.” She hid her face in her palms.

  “So, tell me, what happened here, Amy?” Katie asked anxiously. “Why couldn’t you return to Britain? Why have you been staying here all the time, bringing up the child in these awful conditions?”

  “It’s easy to talk, Katie…” Amy wiped off her tears. “George made an illegal immigrant out of me. He sent me here, to the suburb of Mumbai – one of the poorest regions in India. But I couldn’t just leave this place. First, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that people around me enjoyed their lives. They’ve been creating huge, happy families, living on the dirty streets, near the railroads. They never take a shower. They would never imagine a hot tub. They do nothing to improve the future of their kids.”

  “Sorry, Amy, but what have you done to improve the life of your son?” Katie asked softly.

  “I didn’t live on the street all the time. I got lucky,” Amy grinned. “I’m a white woman. When local citizens tried to rob me and rape me… well… The authorities helped me to acquire a tiny room. Tim, my little sonny, was two years old. I don’t want to remember how I actually acquired it—”

  “Relatives?” Katie asked.

  “No!” Amy twitched. “It’s me… I mean…”

  “Look, Amy,” Katie put her hands on Amy’s shoulders. “I’m a reporter. I’m gonna help you. You should tell me the truth. We’ll publish everything you want. People must know the dreadful truth! Everybody should know what you’ve overcome. Your baby suffered—”

  “Stop it, Katie,” Amy sighed.

  “No! That monster must be overthrown. His business reputation must be destroyed! We’ll sue him!
He’ll have to share his millions—”

  “Katie, listen to me, please,” Amy interrupted her. “Of course, I want revenge, but I’m not sure I want to engage myself with banks, courts, litigations—”

  “You give up?” Katie cried out.

  “No. I’m tired. I want to live a normal life. My son needs medical care. I need it too. I want a warm bed, a clean bathroom, and healthy food. That’s all. I would go back to the UK, pay off my debts to the bank, buy a small flat somewhere in Cardiff.”

  “Amy! We have 100 grand!” Katie exclaimed. Let’s wage war against Hartley! You won’t have to conduct a case. We can hire a lawyer. I’ll take care of it. I’m a student. But don’t worry! I’m a future reporter! That’ll be great practice for me.”

  “I don’t want anything bad to happen to my son,” Amy said tiredly.

  “Everything will be fine!” Katie said obstinately. “Don’t you believe in British justice?”

  “I don’t believe him,” Amy said quietly. “I don’t know what possibilities he has… Why did he actually help me? I don’t think he’s changed. This man has always been unpredictable. He attacks unexpectedly. We got married, and everything was great. And suddenly I found myself in India. Actually, he deceived me. He told me that I would get back in a few days. I believed it was a terrible joke. He sent me a letter… I was shocked. He demanded abortion!”

  “What?” Katie gasped.

  “He didn’t want this child. I refused to do an abortion. And he lost contact with me. And… I’ll tell the truth… I sold the wedding ring here in India.”

  Katie nodded sympathetically.

  “Believe me or not, I still loved him at that moment.”

  Katie raised her eyebrows.

  “I lost everything: money, job, bank account. Instead, I had a baby,” Amy said thoughtfully. “Little Tim was the main gift… from George. Yeah, I hate Hartley. But, you know, time is a great healer. I’m sure God will judge. George will realize what he’d lost.” Then she added. “I even had to work as a prostitute.”

  “What?” Katie jumped.

  “Yes…” Amy grinned bitterly. “To sell the ring was not enough. I was the rarest, unique white woman here. They liked me very much. You can despise me, Katie… But men were actually not bad. I mean, most of them were very kind. They were just poor. I had only one condition: I asked them to take a shower before sex.”

  Katie made a wry face.

  “I’d always bought antiseptic wipes and made them wash their dirty hands. I hated filth. I tried not to look at the grease under their nails. Because after sex I had to return to my little son and breastfeed him—”

  “Stop it, please!” Katie cried. “This is unbearable!”

  “This is not as awful as you think, Katie,” Amy said. “I like… to be a woman. If I were ugly, they wouldn’t want to sleep with me. But all the local men wanted me. They adored me. Believe me or not, I always smiled, walking down the streets. I didn’t give a shit that everyone considered me a whore. The wives of those men were ready to tear me apart. This fact had always inflated my self-esteem.”

  “Did you enjoy what you’d been doing?” Katie asked, staring at Amy.

  “Most men satisfied me,” Amy said and smiled warmly. “Moreover, they not only paid me but brought food for little Tim.”

  “And you still loved Hartley?” Katie asked confusedly.

  “No,” Amy shook her head. “Prostitution became a kind of salvation for me. If I hadn’t slept with a hundred men, I wouldn’t have felt invulnerability.”

  Katie stared at her.

  “Yes! For you, Katie, everything around here looks like shit and chaos. But believe me, it’s your perception. People who live here in India can’t even imagine a better life. When you arrive here from London, your soul starts to cleanse. Your wishes, dreams, and caprices disappear. You begin to appreciate human values such as truth, compassion, and love.”

  Katie sighed and shook her head.

  “You’re too young, Katie,” Amy smiled. “God hasn’t tested you yet. Better never betray anyone. I hate not Hartley but the act of betrayal. If he hadn’t sent me here, I would’ve lived a comfortable, luxurious life full of material benefits. Here in India, people told me a lot about Buddhism, Laozi, freedom. Do you know what real freedom is, Katie? It’s when you have nothing except your body and your soul. You work out a lot to have a neat figure, you cleanse your soul, improving your environment. When I first came here, I behaved aggressively. I admit that I felt the white supremacy.”

  “Awful,” Katie winced.

  “Yes,” Amy nodded. “But what about you, Katie? You behave like a fastidious princess. You sputter in disgust—”

  “I don’t!” Katie cried.

  “Don’t take offense at me. It’s the truth. Do you know that the number of suicides in India is twice lower than in extremely prosperous Japan? Why? People in India are much more hard-bitten than in most Western countries. I don’t say that I don’t need comfort. But excessive comfort poisons people. When they are too well off, they begin to suffer.”

  Katie shuddered and frowned. She didn’t like what she heard.

  Amy went on, “My point is when you wanna take revenge, hating someone, you hate the whole world automatically. Your energy is negative. God turns away from you.

  I totally understand you, Katie. You think that hundreds of millions of people here suffer, and rich people in London enjoy their lives, right? You’re wrong, Katie. God doesn’t divide the world according to the availability of money. Distribution of good and love is much more important than the distribution of healthy food and modern technologies. You came here with the laptop, with the Internet, with a suitcase full of clothes, but you’re angry and nervous, your eyes express anxiety. You came from another world – the world where there’s no harmony, and there is a lack of true love.”

  43. Who actually did all that

  Sarah’s boss sent a car to her apartment. When George noticed a black Porsche Cayenne drive up, he ordered Sarah to get dressed. She put her coat right on the naked body. Then they descended to the ground floor and went outside. George was pointing a pistol at Sarah’s chest. She sighed heavily. She was overwhelmed with emotions. After they stopped making love, she told him again that she’d always loved him. He wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t. He was sure that she lied to him all the time. George didn’t hesitate to use her as a hostage.

  Right before leaving the apartment, George checked the mailbox. He received a new message from India – just an address. That was enough.

  When they hopped in the black Cayenne, George ordered to stop the car at a parcel delivery company. Sarah wasn’t surprised. She was ready for everything. On their way, Sarah sobbed for ten minutes. But nobody comforted her. The driver, a silver-haired man about seventy, was absolutely indifferent to all that was going on. He didn’t even inquire who George actually was and why he was pointing a gun at Sarah.

  Does he know me? George thought. Did his boss order to take us to him? Sarah must be a valuable employee for her boss. My strategy must be right.

  “Parcel delivery company,” the driver said impassively.

  George nodded and got out of the Porsche. Sarah followed him, asking no questions.

  George selected the fastest delivery option. The parcel could be delivered to India by air in one day. George filled out the form, and extracted a little box out of his pocket, handed it to the employee.

  “What is it?” Sarah asked, amazed.

  “A LEGO building kit,” George smiled.

  “You’re lying!”

  “No. Look inside!”

  “For whom?”

  “For one wonderful kid! I’ve never seen him, actually.”

  Sarah nodded apathetically. She didn’t believe a word.

  They got back to the car. Sarah told the driver to go to the ‘Center.’

  George chuckled. The ‘Center’… What’s that? MI5? Walter Schmidt’s headquarters? What do they all want
from me? My contacts with world leaders? My plans? I bet they all want to know something that I forgot. Something extremely important…

  They left the center of London, and soon the car stopped. George wasn’t surprised – the building they stopped by was inconspicuous. He smiled. There were two plaques above the entrance door: ‘Vegetables’ and ‘Hairdresser.’

  “So, where to?” he asked Sarah cheerfully.

  Sarah jumped out of the SUV, and George followed her. The driver didn’t even say goodbye to them, pressed the accelerator, and peeled out.

  “He’s not much of a talker,” George remarked. “Did you sleep with him?”

  Sarah pursed her lips.

  Shit! George winced. What if they just shoot me down in a minute, huh? Sarah would say, ‘Forgive me, George!’ And that would be over!

  “You go first, honey,” George grinned and extracted the pistol.

  Sarah twitched. “You’d better hide this thing,” she said in a weak voice. “Everything will be fine, George. I swear.”

  “Oh, yeah,” George nodded. “Come on! Where’s your Lord hiding? Or maybe he’s not hiding at all. We’ll encounter him buying vegetables. Entirely by accident, huh? Or maybe he’s dying his hair!”

  “Shut up, George!” Sarah barked suddenly.

  “You stopped being afraid! Is he your husband?”

  They walked into the greengrocery. Sarah nodded to the gloomy salesman, and they proceeded to the back of the shop and entered a small, cozy room.

  George saw a red carpet, a wooden desk with lots of documents on it, a laptop, and three chairs around the desk. In the corner of the room, there was a big coffee-machine and a pile of chocolate bars. A tall, bulked-up man about fifty in a brown suit was pouring three cups of coffee. He had a big head, sun-bleached hair, protruding ears.