Poisonous Kiss

by Andras Totisz

  He put down his glass and looked at me pensively.

  "Maybe you're right. Maybe I've had this idea at the back of my head all the time. I could have given myself such a big dose that it would have solved the problem immediately. But I didn't do that. I was increasing the dosage slowly, I was playing along with them, I kept calculating and taking note of things. And in the end I could stop."

  "You only wanted to experiment." Neither of us noticed Celia entering the room. She was standing at the door, her face pale and rigid. She wore a dark skirt, a light blouse and a dark cardigan. She looked so young and fragile. But her face looked older, especially her eyes. They were tired and lacked luster. "You are too good a scientist to have let such an opportunity go. You wanted to see, to feel the result for yourself. You wanted to see if you could keep the experiment under control."

  Baruch smiled at her.

  "Thank you, my dear, it's nice of you to say so." He glanced at me. "Isn't it wonderful to have a wife who holds me in such esteem?"

  I nodded wordlessly.

  Baruch stood up and took another glass from the carved cupboard with the dark glass-panes.

  "You will have a drink with us, won't you, darling? I trust you don't have anything against the company. Oh, relax, for God's sake! I've learned to behave myself. I'm not sick, I'm not having fits, I won't be throwing tantrums. I'm not jealous. I've realized there's no need for that. Let it suffice that when I think of all the things to come I can't help laughing. I'm having fun at your expense, my dear."

  I was watching Celia. I had to grab the arm of the chair so as not to jump up, rush over to her and gather her in my arms. I won't let him hurt you, I thought. Never. She sat down smoothing her skirt carefully. I felt a sudden surge of desire, I almost blushed with my memories of her thighs, now so carefully and modestly covered with her skirt. I felt Baruch's eyes on me. I tore my eyes from Celia and looked up, straight into the ironic, understanding eyes of Baruch.

  "Well, children, you just go on meeting each other as if nothing's happened. Try to enjoy the time you have left. You see, I'm not so malevolent."

  I leaned forward, my muscles tensing.

  "If you think I'll let you hurt her, you're wrong." Even I could hear that my voice rose menacingly.

  But he started to laugh.

  "To hurt Celia? Oh, come on! What do you take me for?" He was leaning forward, too. We were like two cautious beasts facing each other, ready to pounce, in a room full of statuettes, paintings, vases and marvelous rugs. "You should know better. The virus doesn't transform the subject, it changes certain characteristic features in him. I love Celia. I loved her before, I still love her. The difference is that earlier I would have given her up without fight. But not now…now I guess I'll kill you."

  My glance lit upon his hands. They were soft and white, weak hands that never did any hard work or sport. He didn't have a gun in them. So why was I scared? I shot Delacroix, I subdued Frost. Why did I still feel this cold and unexplainable dread?

  Baruch waved his hand.

  "Come on, don't take it literally. Relax! Why don't you have a drink? Or you don't like cognac? Would you have a beer or some whiskey instead? What I meant was simply that now, that I have changed, I would kill you. Eventually. Sometime, tomorrow, next week, it might even take months. I'm not in a hurry. In the meantime I'll be planning, toying with the idea. I'll enjoy the feel of it. Isn't it marvelous? Here you are, a sharpshooter, a good fighter, a muscular young cop and you can't do a thing against it. Against me. I'll kill you and there's only one way to prevent it. If you get ahead of me and kill yourself. But you'll never do that. You're not capable of doing so because you haven't had enough of my wondrous serum. You are still sick, my poor friend, you're still tortured by superfluous scruples. If I attacked you, you obviously would try to defend yourself. You might even be able to kill me in self-defense. But I won't give you a chance, oh, no, never," he smiled shaking his head. "Any time we meet I'll be just as friendly as I am now. I'll be polite and well disposed towards you. You can come here any time, my house will always be open to you. You'll always find a friend waiting for you here. You'll be able to share your troubles with me and I'll share my wife with you. You'll always get a drink and some consolation here. But I'll kill you when the time comes." He laughed again. It was dreadful, yet he was only laughing, happily, seemingly oblivious to the circumstances. "I was clumsy the last time, wasn't I? I really don't see how I could think I'd take you out from such a distance. Well, it doesn't matter now. And it helped me then."

  I thought of Patricia, her beautiful, blond hair fanned out on the pillow, her eyes closed, her face pale. The bandage on her chest.

  Baruch was reading my thoughts, of course. It couldn't have been difficult for him, I admit.

  "You are sorry for the girl, right? Well, it couldn't be helped. How about some injections? Would you like that?"

  I shook my head.

  "Good for you. I wouldn't give you, any. You know, my friend, you can ask for anything. It's yours for the taking, but not my Q-virus serum. I won't give you the help you need to kill me. Now you're wracking your brain about what you could do. Don't overexert yourself. I've been doing the same. You can't go to the police because I'd obviously deny everything. You wouldn't get anywhere with it, even if Celia substantiated your story. People would think it was only your plan to get rid of the elderly husband. You know what people are like. You can't kill me because you aren't capable of it. And what if you could? Celia would hate you for your pains. Isn't that right, darling?"

  Celia sat wordlessly, motionlessly, but I knew Baruch was right again. She would hate me forever.

  "You could leave here, go to some god-forsaken place and start a new life under a new name in the back of beyond. But you won't do that either. You won't be able to leave it all here, your love, your work, your friends, your family, your career…all for the threats of an old fool. Do you see now? You'll stay put. And I'll kill you eventually. It's as simple as that. Now you think you still have one chance, don't you? You think you'll be on the alert and fend my attack off. After all, you're the professional. All right, that's a possibility. But it means that you won't have a single relaxed, carefree moment. You won't have a night of undisturbed sleep. You won't be able to step out in the street without thinking of me, the possibility that I'm lying in ambush to get you. You won't have a moment's peace. And I'll be enjoying myself. If you think of keeping me under observation you can forget it. I have patience and forbearance, I'll wait for my chance. Do you know what the most important virtue of a scientist is? It's patience. The ability to start the umpteen thousandth version of an experiment after umpteen thousand failures."

  I knew he was right. I felt tormented, helpless. I felt the same excruciating, nightmarish pain that I experienced when Frost killed Carl, and almost me, too. I sat rigidly and stared at the friendly, smiling, sophisticated face.

  "Don't you worry," Baruch went on with gusto, "I'll master the technique of killing. I don't think it requires extraordinary skills. The world is full of semi-literate, semi-idiotic killers. I'll find the methods which don't require special skills, special physical agility."

  "Do you want to practice killing?" Celia whispered softly.

  "Maybe. Why not, provided it feels good. Don't worry, your husband won't turn into a homicidal maniac. A couple of killings at most, only to see what it is like and acquire a taste for it by the time it's our mutual friend's turn. You won't even have to know about them." He smiled at us lovingly. "Still, I believe in the saying 'each man to his trade.' It would simply be a waste for me to kill with my hands. Someone else will do nicely instead."

  I stole a glance at Celia and was sure the same thought occurred to her. It sent shivers down my spine.

  "The serum…" Celia said haltingly. It was partly a question, partly a statement. She was shaking her head in shock. She couldn't believe it, but she had to.

  We could see the final glory in Baruch's expression. Now
he could wade in for the kill. He's been waiting for this during our entire discussion. Remember, patience and the umpteen thousand experiments…

  "I'll inoculate soldiers. Prisoners, juvenile delinquents on parole." He laughed again. I started to feel anger accumulating in me, I felt it strain against my body to get out, I felt on the verge of exploding. I was dizzy. I reached for the glass with trembling hands and drank. The cognac didn't agree with me. I craved cold water. I wanted to hit, smash, destroy.

  "A mental recuperative drug," Baruch snickered. "That's a good one, I heard it from you." He was almost shouting. His harsh voice clashed with his homely dressing gown, his intelligent face, his puritanical glasses. "An orgy of aggressiveness, violence. Tortured, battered people, exploded buses, schools blown to bits…" he was whinnying with joy. "I've become a vicious person, do you see? Vicious, evil. And you can't do a thing about it. You are in my hands. Just try to go to the police and report me, go ahead! Who in his right mind would believe your story? Oh, yes, I do enjoy killing. My methods are unorthodox, I don't kill with knife or gun, I don't need old-fashioned arms. I kill with the virus, my discovery. And you, my friend—every time you are called to the scene of a meaningless murder, when someone gets shot for a couple of dollars, when people cut each others throat in the course of run-of-the-mill fights, when someone gets kidnapped and tortured solely for fun, when soldiers go berserk and gun down everyone in sight till they are killed by one of their own—you, my dear friend will think every time that you are witnessing my handiwork even in cases, which occur without my active participation. You see, the virus is spreading fast, the future belongs to violence and whatever I might do is only a modest contribution to the great oeuvre of nature. And the nicest thing is that you'll see and know everything and won't be able to do anything to prevent it. It's so nice that I might just spare you longer so that you'll be able to enjoy it longer."

  He was absorbed in himself. He seemed to be talking to me, looking at me, but he didn't see me. He didn't notice me gasping, gripping the arm of the chair so that my knuckles went white. Saliva started to trickle down the corner of my mouth but I didn't wipe it. I was sitting motionless and trembling and I knew that he was mistaken. Celia took in the whole picture.

  "No," she whispered. "It's impossible! You can't do that!"

  But Baruch was still propelled by the power of his dreams. He thinks the woman is talking to him.

  "But I can, my dear. And you'll be there with me all the time and see everything. You deserve it. You've worked so much for this I can't possibly leave you out of it."

  "Please, don't!" Celia screamed. Her beseeching, beautiful brown eyes were boring into mine. All in vain, I had to do it and she was aware of that. She started to sob, she leaned forward, dropped her forehead onto the table. I didn't move yet.

  "Please, leave the room," I told her softly.

  "No, I can't!" she whimpered. She was torn between the two men who love her, but neither of them thought of holding her tight and wiping her tears now.

  "Leave the room," I repeated my command. My voice was low but urgent. Celia looked at me through her tears.

  "Please!"

  Celia stood up and started towards the door, sobbing. Martin lifted his hand as if he wanted to reach for her, then the hand drooped. I would have found it odd if he hadn't figured it out by now. He was right that I wouldn't have been able to kill him in cold-blood just because of his threats against me. But I would and I could kill to prevent him from putting his plans into action. Professor Baruch was not going to inoculate anyone with his viral serum. The serum succeeded in transforming me into a killer to the extent of being able to prevent that. Maybe I'm wasn't killing really, but helping Baruch to do what he had wanted to before the virus warped his personality. Maybe this is what he wanted. Maybe this thought will help Celia deal with what is going to happen now. We owed it to Martin, the real Martin.

  My mind went blank, my self-justifying thoughts floated away. I had to kill this man but I didn't want him to fear the moment, to be tortured by the thought of it.

  "Get out!" I snapped at Celia, who dragged herself toward the door, head bowed. She understood me at last. Without looking back she rushed out and slammed the door behind her. And before Baruch could say a word I whipped out the gun and, without taking aim, shot him at close range.

  CHAPTER 46

  The members of the jury are filing in for the verdict. They sit down, one of them is taking his time to rearrange his tie. A woman casts a long and pointed glance at Arany. Is it dictated by compassion?

  The hall is silent. Everyone looks at the jury, and the foreman, who is going to answer the judge's questions. Only two people there don't look towards the bench. The two protagonists are looking at each other.

  "Your verdict?" the judge asks.

  "Guilty", says the foreman of the jury.

  I had to do it, Arany's eyes send their silent message to Celia. I know you loved him but I had to do it.

  Celia knows this look. She saw it first when Arany staggered out of the room right after the shot. He reached for her, wanted to embrace her.

  "I had to do it. I know you loved him but I had to do it." And Celia pushed him away screaming.

  Arany called Ericsson. By the time the captain got there he already had written down his statement. He killed out of jealousy. He hadn't planned it in advance. He went there to discuss their relationship. They were drinking cognac, then Celia went out to the kitchen to make some coffee. Then he shot. The woman didn't know anything about it.

  They look at each other while listening to the sentence. Eight years. The audience almost winces with astonishment. The attorney for the defense sighs with relief and wipes his forehead with his handkerchief. He wouldn't have believed they'd be let off so easily.

  "Shitheads," someone murmurs behind him. "They're more lenient with real criminals."

  The lawyer doesn't look back. He knows Arany would have got less if only they had been willing to accept his advice. It wouldn't have been such a big thing to say that the woman's husband had tortured her with his jealousy, he even had beaten her up, and even though they had hated each other he wouldn't ever have given her a divorce. He turns to Arany dutifully.

  "You don't want me to lodge an appeal, do you?"

  Arany doesn't even look at him, he shakes his head wordlessly. He hears the voices, he gets the message. He understands he is sentenced to eight years in prison. He knows he won't lodge an appeal. He listens to the foreman's reasons for the verdict, the pros and cons of different considerations…as if there was any excuse, any explanation to what he had done, apart from the only one, the real one, which he keeps mum about. He hears and understands everything but all he can see is Celia's eyes. He expects the other verdict from these eyes.

  I'll be waiting for you, the woman's eyes tell him. I love you, I'll be waiting for you however long it takes.

  And Arany smiles at last. This relieved face appears in the next edition of newspapers, this happy, boyish smile. He must have expected a tougher sentence, the caption says.

  The other picture shows Celia. Her eyes are overcome with emotion but the smile playing around her lips is still melancholy.

  Next day Arany cuts the picture out of the paper. He is staring at it for a long time, then puts it away carefully. He wants to take good care of it. If he doesn't get paroled this smile will have to stay with him for eight long years.

  I'll be waiting for you. I love you, I'll be waiting for you however long it takes.

  END

 

 

 
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