A Love to Kill For

by Conor Corderoy

  * * * *

  When I woke up, my mouth tasted like a dead rat’s ass. The other half of the rat was in my belly, eating my stomach lining and making me feel sick. It was awful dark and I was cramped and hurt everywhere. I hurt in places I didn’t even know I had. There was a strong stink of engine oil and gasoline. I tried to move, but everywhere I tried to move to, there was something metal already there. Then I realized that my hands were tied behind my back, and when I tried to lever myself into a sitting position, I hit my head on a metal ceiling. Slowly it dawned on me—the dark, the smells, the metal walls and ceiling, all pointed to the trunk of a car. And that would account for the sound of the engine and the swaying movement. In my trade, as the saying goes, being in the trunk of a car is usually a bad thing. It means you’re taking a ride you didn’t want to take, to a place you don’t want to go.

  It is hard to keep track of time when you are swaying in the pitch black. Maybe ten minutes passed, maybe half an hour, and I have no idea how long I was unconscious before I woke up. But eventually we stopped swaying and seemed to move in straight lines, and shortly after that, we slowed down and the engine growled and died. A minute later I heard and felt the doors slam and the darkness above me gave way to the night sky and the stars, and looming over me was the smiling silhouette of Rinpoche, the Dharma Kid. He had a rollup hanging out of the corner of his mouth and he said to me, “Hello, Liam. Did you enjoy your ride?”

  I couldn’t think of a smartass answer, so I let it go and Rinpoche and Monobrow Man pulled me out of the trunk. We were on a beach and there was a cool, salt breeze. Far off to the west, I could see a few lights reflected on the sea. It might have been Malaga, but it was hard to tell. They walked me around the car and I saw there was a power launch hauled up on the sand, with a couple of men standing by it. A couple of miles out—caught on a path of light from the rising moon—was a white yacht. It was big, with three masts and lots of lights dancing on the sea, like fallen stars struggling not to drown.

  They pushed me down the sand and I got a clearer view of the launch. It was about fifteen feet long, with leather seats and a steering wheel like a car. It was dark blue and had its name in gold French script on the front. It was called Salvation. I thought that was kind of funny.

  Monobrow and the Dharma Kid climbed in after me. The other two goons pushed the boat out into the sea and climbed in. The motor roared into life and we sped off toward the yacht, slapping the small waves for about four or five minutes. Finally, we eased up alongside the huge, white schooner. It also had its name in fancy French script along the side of the prow. It was called the Divine Mercy. That made me smile too. Tonight I was all smiles.

  The monkey who was piloting the Salvation put his fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. After a moment, a silhouette in a peaked cap made a black shape against the sky and peered over the side. He threw down a rope ladder and Rinpoche pulled a knife from his belt. He showed it to me and said, “We are two and half miles out to sea. If you try and swim, you’re gonna die. Probably you will drown, but there are six guys here with guns. You don’t stand a chance, so be smart. Don’t try. Okay?” I told him I wouldn’t and he beamed and spread his hands. “Watcha gonna do? Right?”

  “Yeah. Watcha gonna do, when everything’s out of control.”

  He cut my bonds and I rubbed my wrists. I clambered up the ladder and hauled myself over the gunwale. Then I stood, having a look around while the others scrambled up behind me. There were four baboons disguised as sailors, in roll-neck sweaters and peaked caps, standing around ready to jump me if I tried anything. There was a long cabin running down the center of the main deck. All the lights were on inside and I could see through the long windows. It looked like some kind of classy drawing room-cum-dining room, with a chandelier, a dining table and a bar, and a couple of coffee tables with leather armchairs and sofas. To my right, at the stern of the yacht, there was another large structure that I assumed was the kitchen or the sleeping quarters.

  Toward the prow there was a lot of deck space, with coils of rope and chain winches for the anchors. As Rinpoche’s head appeared over the gunwale, I asked him, “What’s the big idea? Where’s del Roble?”

  He gave me his toothy grin and said in the drone of a wise teacher, “Always the questions, always the questions. You will find out. I promise you. You will find out.” He turned to Monobrow, who was heaving himself up and over, and said, “Take our friend down to the guest suite.”

  Monobrow’s eyes creased painfully at the sides and his jaw hung slack. “Huh?”

  Rinpoche smiled in a way you could only describe as kindly and shook his head. “Come,” he said, “I take you,” and led the way.

  They took me toward the prow. Now I could see that there was a raised hatch on hinges. Rinpoche opened it and reached down to flip a switch. A dim light came on below, casting a dull amber glow up onto his face. It made him look like a really good-humored demon from hell. He eased himself down and Monobrow pushed me after him. It was some kind of hold, filled with crates and sacks—probably the food store. It was small and cramped, but I could just about stand upright with three or four inches to spare. They both stood behind me and I was about to ask what happened next when Rinpoche kicked me expertly in the back of the knee and I went down on the boards.

  I lay there a moment, waiting for the next kick. It didn’t come. I turned and looked up. The Dharma Kid was still smiling. He dropped the stub of his rollup and crushed it with his toe. I started to get up, and my face must have telegraphed what I planned to do because I heard the click of a hammer. It was the Ape Man, with an oddly serious expression on his face. He said, “Take it easy. Don’t get sore. We do what we godda do.”

  I looked back at the Dharma Kid and he spread his hands and grinned. “What to do?”

  Ape Man gestured with his rod. “There’s a pipe back there. Get up against it.”

  I stood and moved back about twelve foot. There was a thick metal pipe, about six inches in diameter, running from the floor to the ceiling. Rinpoche came and stood real close to me, looking into my eyes. There was a trace of a smile, but not much. His breath smelled of stale rollups. He said, “Stand against the pipe, Liam, and link your hands behind it.”

  I had no choice, so I did as he said. He pulled out some cuffs and went behind me. As he cuffed me to the pipe, I tensed the tendons in my wrists. When he’d finished I slid down the pipe and crossed my legs, looking up at the dynamic duo.

  “Now what?”

  They didn’t answer. Bigfoot went and sat on a crate and lit up, watching me as he smoked. The Dharma Kid sat on another crate and took his time rolling a new cigarette. I guess they thought it was intimidating. After a couple of minutes, I heard a grinding hum from below and we started to heave gently and sway. They had started the engines and we were underway. I knew Rinpoche was a dead loss so I asked Monobrow, “We going anywhere nice?”

  He blinked slowly, but that was all the answer I was going to get. When I looked at Rinpoche, he was smiling gently at me. He nodded a few times and said, “You are going somewhere very nice, Liam. Very nice. You are going to swim with the fishes,” and he creased his eyes and laughed like a merry, skinny Buddha.

  Monobrow frowned at him. “Cut it out. Maybe so, maybe not. No point worryin’ him unnecessary.”

  Rinpoche laughed quietly. “Yeah, no point worrying. Relax. Everything out of control!” He giggled like it was hilarious.

  Another twenty minutes passed with only the sound of the engine and the rock and sway of the ship. Eventually I heard steps above. It was a steady, measured stride. The hatch opened and del Roble came tripping down the steps. He was in full evening dress and fiddling with one of his cufflinks. I said, “What are you playing at, del Roble?”

  He stopped, as though I had actually made him think. “Playing, Liam? I am playing at Life. The only game worth playing, and a game only worth playing if—”

  I couldn’t stomach the cliché so I
cut him short, “Yeah, yeah… You play to win. I know. Spare me the self-help philosophy. What you are playing at?”

  He spread his hands wide, shrugged and pulled a face all at the same time, the way only Spaniards know how. He seemed to say he himself was incredulous at how simple it was. “Either you have the box or Mary-Jane has it. It’s not complicated. Whichever one of you has it must give it to me. All that is necessary is that I establish conclusively which one of you has it, then take it. It is that simple.”

  I nodded. “Theory always is.”

  He smiled with his eyes closed and shook his head. “Practice is simpler still. I have tried negotiation and discussion, and I have received lies and attempts upon my life for my efforts. So, now I must take direct action.” He gestured toward the dynamic duo. “I am on my way to see Mary-Jane. As you know, she expects us both, though she tells me that you are a dangerous maverick and begs me to eliminate you where she can be witness to your death. It will be a pleasant surprise for her to discover that you have been neutralized and are held captive aboard the Divine Mercy. Though she will regret not having watched it happen.”

  He stood staring at me for a long moment. I glanced at the Dharma Kid and saw he was staring at his boss with gentle rapture, while the Simian Wonder looked embarrassed and was staring at the floor. Finally, del Roble blinked and the blood seemed to return to his skin. He spoke suddenly. “She claims she has the box. You claim you have the box—subterfuge, red herrings, misdirection. By taking direct action, we neutralize the doubt. I will find out in the next half hour if Mary-Jane has it. If she has, I shall take it by fair means or foul.”

  I said, “You mean you’ll murder her and take it.”

  “I will certainly kill her if I have to. If she has it, Murdoch, and I find that all this time you have been lying to me, then I shall take great pleasure—I really mean great pleasure—in dragging out your death over days, in the most painful way imaginable. So, if she has it, now is the time to tell me, before it’s too late.”

  I looked at his patent shoes, his immaculate evening suit and his inhuman face, with his inhuman goat-eyes, and I knew that if it cost me a week of torture and eventual death, I would never cooperate with him—never do what he told me. I looked him square in the eye and told him, “You’re a schmuck, del Roble. Your IQ might be off the chart, but you’re still a fucking goatherd and a schmuck.”

  “If you have it, Murdoch, then I shall have to persuade you to tell me where it is. I understand you are a tough nut.” He smiled and flicked his lips with the tip of his tongue. “But Zoltan and Dino have some pretty effective nutcrackers.”

  Rinpoche and Proto-Man looked at each other and burst out laughing. It was hilarious. A sight to see.

  He turned and climbed up the stairs. The hatch closed and I heard his feet tapping along the deck, receding toward the stern. Zoltan Rinpoche, the Dharma Kid, was finishing his rollup, watching me and smiling. After a minute I heard the engine of the power launch roar and slowly recede. Dino the Simian Wonder stood and looked down at his pal. “You wanna go first?”

  Rinpoche nodded and Dino labored up the steps, off to do what people with still, silent minds do. Rinpoche crushed out his cigarette then got to his feet and stood in front of me. He had very long, very thin legs. He cracked his knuckles and loosened his shoulders. He said, with absolutely no feeling, “Stand up please, Liam.”

  I figured if I refused he would start kicking me, and I needed to hold out for a while, so I pushed myself to my feet.

  He was an expert and an accomplished martial artist, and he was enjoying his own skill as much as seeing the pain on my face. The first dozen blows or so were designed to soften me up without doing too much damage. He started with a few backhands. I tried to roll with them but that isn’t easy when you’re chained to a pipe. They were painful. My ears were ringing and I could taste the blood in my mouth. It always pays when you’re getting worked over to make it look like you’re worse off than you really are, but under Rinpoche’s skilled assault, I wasn’t having to try hard at all. He was taking it out of me, and the pain was real and deep.

  His first punch went to my belly and half winded me. He enjoyed that and danced out a little imitation of Bruce Lee, weird noises and all. Then he laughed with pleasure. His next punch went to my floating ribs. I was already weak from the drugs and I began to wonder if I’d make it. I lifted my head to look at him and I knew from his stance and the position of his feet that the next blow was going to be straight into my face, to the nose. Not only would it spoil my looks, it might break my jaw, then I’d be out for the count.

  I had taken the precaution when he was cuffing me to swell up my wrists. I have very strong wrists and I can add a full inch to them by tensing them. That’s useful when you’re being cuffed. Now I made a big thing of groaning and sliding down the pipe to the floor and rolling my head around. I needed a couple of seconds. Rinpoche was breathing heavily. He said, “Explore the pain, Liam. It can help you to know yourself and grow.”

  I leaned to the side and spat blood on the floor. I had folded my right hand down and it was halfway out of the cuff. But it was stuck on the thumb joint and the knuckle of my index finger. I’d been working it while he was hitting me and had skinned the knuckles. Now my hand was becoming slick with blood. I was exploring the pain all right. I gave one excruciating tug and looked up at him. I was almost there. He made a little gesture with his two hands and mouthed, “Up.”

  I braced myself against the pipe and slowly pushed myself to my feet, making a big thing of how weak I was. I knew he was a predator and a killer, and I was relying on him going with an uncontrollable instinct to prey on the weak. He didn’t disappoint me. He balled his fist expertly into a compact rock that would have split bricks. He dropped it to his waist, took a step and snapped his hip like a whip. The power and speed were impressive. Fortunately, believing I couldn’t move, he had telegraphed well ahead that he was coming. I dodged to my right, wrenching my hand free of the cuff, and his fist smashed into the steel piping. The blow dented the steel and jarred Rinpoche all the way up his arm into his enlightened brain. His eyes bulged and he gaped wide. I only hoped he used the pain to explore himself deeper and grow, because it was the last thing he would ever do. I jammed the cuffs hard into his windpipe and he went down, clawing at his throat. In that moment Rinpoche discovered the true meaning of dharma.

  I took a moment to get my breath while he lost his forever. Then I took his .38 from his waistband and made my way quietly up the steps to the hatch. I waited, listening, but all I could hear was the last few spasmodic thrashings of Rinpoche suffocating to death below. I lifted the hatch a couple of inches and peered through. The front deck was completely empty on all sides. I pushed the hatch up all the way and pulled myself out. The main cabin was maybe fifteen feet away. There were two long windows facing me and light was spilling out onto the deck. I crawled on my belly until I was under the nearest window, then slid slowly up the wall and peered in. There was nobody there.

  I slid back down the wall and crawled to the corner, then peered round. Now I could hear voices. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but every now and then they would break off to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that told you you weren’t missing much in the conversation. There wasn’t a lot of light around and I didn’t figure I’d make a silhouette or a shadow, so I risked leaning out and looking.

  It was a hot, sticky night and they had pulled a table out onto the deck. It looked like they were playing cards and drinking whiskey. Some other day, at some other time, with the element of surprise on my side, I might have taken on all four of them. Right then, with bruised ribs and a head full of meat cleavers, I didn’t fancy my chances. I pulled back behind the cabin and looked out toward the coast. I could just make out the lights of del Roble’s launch. It looked as though it had arrived at the beach, and just beyond it I could make out the lights of a beach house, which I figured was Mary-Jane’s.

  I acted wi
thout really thinking. I went back to the hatch, raised it and dropped it so it made a lot of noise. Then, in a voice I hoped was like Rinpoche’s, I called, “Hey, Dino! Come here, my friend!”

  Dino’s voice came back as a kind of whine, “Why? Wassamada? I’m playin’ cards with the boys!”

  I hollered back, “Just come here. I need you!”

  After a moment, I heard his primal form lumbering up the deck at a slow roll. I flattened myself against the wall and waited till he was just past me. Then I stepped up close behind him and put the muzzle of the .38 into the small of his back. I said, “Move and I’ll blow your kidneys over the side of the ship. I’ll cut your spine in half and if you’re lucky, Dino, you’ll never walk again.”

  He froze. “Take it easy, Murdoch. How’d you get loose?”

  I grinned. “Easy. I tore the pipe out of the wall and jammed it up Zoltan’s ass.”

  He half looked over his shoulder. His eyes were wide with admiration. “Geesh, poor Zolly.”

  “Yeah.” I jabbed him in the kidneys. “Move.”

  “Where?”

  “Down.”

  We went down the steps to where Rinpoche was staring at the ceiling. His back was arched and his fingers were crooked where he’d torn out his own windpipe just before he died. Dino looked down at him, frowning, then at the pipe in the wall then at me. “You didn’t stick him with the pipe.”

  I shook my head, “No, Dino, I lied. I broke his windpipe with the cuffs.”

  He frowned deeper. He was very confused, but I like to think he was a bit awed too. I gestured at Rinpoche with the .38. “Pick him up, Dino. If you do exactly as I tell you, I won’t kill you tonight. Okay?”