TBK: The Butterfly Killer

by A. P. Butler

  My only thought of the present was of immediate hydrotherapy and an exceptionally strong drink. A long soak in bubbled perfection married with two colossal gin and tonics allowed my mind to relax finally. Unfortunately, even with the air-conditioning set to full and burning its way through a forest of fossil fuels, I was still uncomfortably hot. The first room service boy was taken aback when I open the door fully nude, his little eyes almost exploded as I stood there naked but for a few well-placed bubbles, he seemed much more eager to deliver my second drink twenty minutes later.

  Befriending The Basilisk

  Metallic chinking of keys filled the air as they dropped into my hand whilst the conveyance clerk slipped the freshly stamped ownership deeds into the virgin whiteness of official envelope. The estate agent still smiling his Cheshire grin, looking forward to his huge commission cheque no doubt. “Congratulations Mrs Olson on your new home.” He proudly announced while offering forward his hand. “Did you bring any disinfectant, Elizabeth?” Lilly once again offering discriminatory advice when none was required, her veil always slips whenever condescension arises. Again I’d signed everything as Laura Olson, it didn’t matter here, the whole process was corrupt and wrong, but such is the way in developing countries, maybe that’s why they attract such predators.

  Estate agent and crew had given me the key’s two days ago; this was all just ceremony, most of the items Kiri and I’d purchased had now been delivered. The house was a hive of activity, Kiri’d rounded up a few good, hard working local men to clean out the rooms downstairs, making the snake run of a driveway safe for human passage. The front room, which at one point was the heart of a beautiful family home was now covered in mosquito netting forming a sealed environment, free of the aerial assassins and furry black octopedal land crabs. The custom pentagram shaped crucifix I’d ordered a couple of days ago was the only item outstanding. Kiri was a little inquisitive at this particular request, but considering Buddhism is the dominant religion here, I don’t think she realised its religious connotations, although I’m sure the father would fully comprehend when I introduce him very soon.

  Last night I’d gone walkabout, the hotel was too oppressive, too claustrophobic just to sit around all night. Phnom Penh’s an ocean of life, human, winged and arachnid all jiggling to the eternal bass of house music, retro rock and pop. The clubs and bars full of local working girls and boys, dancing nonchalantly under speeding spots of red, green and blue from when disco dominated. Vying for the amorous attentions of the most predominant visitor here, the middle-aged sexual predator.

  They seem to flock to Phnom Penh like pilgrims do to Mecca, the Western Wall or the Holy Sepulchre. All the same, known sex offenders, here to buy or rent a young child, one, two or even three at a time. The locals all say they hate it, but their mutual dislike doesn’t seem to warrant a vigilante style solution, nor a coup of the corrupt government that allows it to happen. Most of the evening I’d spent just wandering, enjoying the sights, making sly covert inquiries as to the location of the father. Unfortunately, these predators all stick together, tight as diamond they protect each other, no loose lips sinking any immoral ships here.

  The working girls were much more communicative, taking no more than the brush of hand to uncover the sordid belly of abuse and destitution. Ninety-six hours I’d been in country and already I’ve been able to uncover enough testimonies, photo and videographic evidence to warrant a life sentence anywhere else on this lonely damp rock of ours. My judicial sentence was to be a lot less lenient; the father had chosen a country of exotic wildlife as his predatorial grounds, my trinity of three fully intended to include them in his punishment. “Let the fucking land crabs eat him.” Ubel’s expression for spider, for some unknown reason he thinks if he refers to them as land crabs, he won’t conjure them up, dispute being surrounded by trillions of the buggers. Ubel might be the most destructive, obnoxious little apparition, with every possible ‘ism’ as a character floor, but he’s still scared of spider’s. Lilly continually reminds him that his hate of spiders was akin to everybody else’s hate of him. Ubel simple retorted by stating even God believed Lilly was a missed opportunity for an abortion.

  My discovery channel was a local bar, frequented by a significant number of child admirers, the owner taking blind eyes sight, as do so many here. The adjoining bar provided my cover, eventually catching the attention of a local working girl, no older than twelve. Srey her name, she told me the father had been in the bar next door earlier; apparently, he went there most evenings. Most of the working girls had been with him at some point, all abused, all hurt, but he’d now taken to purchasing young boys for his indulgence. She’d told me most bars nowadays didn’t entertain him anymore due to his violent nature, many a girl and boy never to be seen again. My due’s paid to the bar owner as they call it, pimping would be a more accurate analogy, securing the company of young Srey for the night.

  The pretence of sex was my alibi; we’d actually gone for a good meal, she’d slept all night after, safely away from prying hands of the self-professed righteous. During our meal I invented a new narrative, telling her I worked for an international child protection organisation, the Cambodian government were supporting our efforts to save child from sexual abuse. She hung a face of shame; she’d heard it all before, no-one yet had achieved any level of success, I assured her my form of persuasion was much more efficient.

  Without hesitation Kiri agreed to help, almost without asking, jumping at the opportunity to set a deadly trap, spike a drink, pay a due then hop aboard security of waiting tuk. A standard affair here and would cause no concern, I planned to be the tuk-tuk driver, so her safety was assured. Once she’d completed her task, I was going to give her a life-changing amount of money, at least she could escape the prostitution of the young to the animals who didn’t deserve the protection of society. No, this man had to die, he’d no doubt call on the assistance of many an affluent human rights lawyer should the ‘correct’ protocols and legalities be adhered to, sometimes society needs to understand that too much tolerance is just as dangerous as too little.

  -1-

  A large shabby green truck bobbled its way down the dirt track towards the house, its old worn tyres straining and bulging under the weight of ten men sitting upon her back, either side a huge tarpaulin. The concluding element to my vengeful solution had arrived. “The mong trains here!” Ubel shouted out, the closer we got to funs advance, the more opinionated he became. Lilly was too busy going over her torturous plans in exacting detail to warrant a reply of condemnation, even though I was party to her inner thoughts as she mine, I could tell she had a lower opinion than Ubel. Lilly’s like an old colonial from a century ago, still seeing herself as better than anyone from a different background or opinion.

  The men were all very helpful, they slide my new toy off, between them skilfully manoeuvring it into my newly constructed cleanroom. A few faces of concern grew as they walked into a room covered in mosquito netting, filled with surgical and other unusual equipment. A portrait of Benjamin Franklin each purchased instant amnesia while alleviating any concerns quicker than the senility of justice issuing a gagging order to protect the guilty, smiles and laughter abound, the emotion of happiness now reigned over all.

  Climbing back aboard the truck, her back now a sea of smiles, waving hands and happiness, as their bouncy return journey commenced. Now I was ready to execute my plan of a most prolonged and agonising demise to Father Arthur Cain, his hands had sculpted my life, he’d made me what I am, and now he would reap what he’d sown. Ubel was quite insistent we wouldn’t kill the father, time and nature would deal the final hand, he abused over time, nature's laws broken, order would be restored. Ubel was getting rather excited at the possibility of our abuser being consumed alive by land crabs, only for Lilly to point out the mosquitoes would probably finish him off first.

  The sun had once again lost its eternal battle against darkness, the heat and humidity of the day clung to the ci
ty as the night matured. The light of day had given way to the glow of fluorescent tubes and neon lights, as they flashed and flickered atop of every public bar in Phnom Penh. My latest acquisition a familiar crimson pink tuk-tuk from Kiri’s friend, upon which I now sat disguised as a local to the best of my abilities. Young Srey was at the bar, I was hiding in the shadows across the street, just down the road, a perfect location to see all but draw no more suspicion that any other. The night aged and still, the father eluded, Srey kept looking at me as if asking what to do. She wasn’t supposed to turn down custom but had been all night. “Maybe we should call it off tonight Elizabeth.” If I had to pay the pimp for Srey’s company once again tonight to capture the child rapist, I would happily do so.

  Pulling myself from the comfort of the padded rear seat to financially pardon Srey from another night of purchased rape, I saw him. Older, looking more aged than the photo’s I had, but it was him, he blended in like a snake in the grass, slithering his way to snare a new victim. Each step filled me with disgust as it did so many a young slave, all retreating inside, praying to evade his advances. The fat of the land showing signs of its toll taken upon figure, now a pot-bellied man, gone the slender athleticism of yesteryear.

  Srey was on him like a mosquito as he entered, she landed him with a big loving hug, never taking her hands off him all night, except to get specially seasoned drinks, although she needn’t have safeguarded so well, no one else looked like stealing him away from her. The Zolpidem was working its sedentary magic; other patrons had been administered the drug too it would appear. Seemingly only the men who paid their due’s got a special cocktail, but if it meant a night off from their sickening advances, then all was good. Kicking the life into the little motor as Srey signalled, the small motor farted then coughed its way back to life, her little face a portrait of happiness as she waved me over, her future as an undercover operative now firmly debunked.

  Skilfully she manoeuvres the drugged and semi-conscious monster into the back of my tuk-tuk, his perspiration and halitosis more destructive than any sexual advance. Srey jumped in beside him with a new fully charged bottle of Angkor Beer, seasoned to perfection, snatching it from her small hand with as much disdain and contempt as I had for him he took the bottle. The tuk-tuk jolted forward as we disappeared into the darkness of the unlit streets. Srey jumped out as we passed my hotel, her mission completed, she was going to enjoy an evening of food and drink accompanied by aqueous heaven of bubbled delight.

  By the time Srey had jumped free the father was unconscious, dribble pooling upon chest, head slumped forward. As I drove, I passed many tuk-tuks all with similar scenarios, an obnoxious westerner drunk or clawing at a young victim at tails seat, drivers all blinkered by portraits of Jefferson and Lincoln to the shenanigans behind. It would appear morality is a luxury only afforded by the wealthy who choose not to indulge.

  The road grew darker and lonelier as we reached the edge of the city, my little tuk-tuk’s headlight punching out into the darkness beyond. Chasing down the road towards the father’s new accommodation, his tomb of enlightenment as Ubel called it was growing ever closer. The bumpy main road gave way to the more undulating flow of dirt track, rocking a gentle lullaby to my passenger of perverse passions. The headlight now glided across the trail more serenely than the machine gun approach of the road before.

  -2-

  Ripping hard at the generator cord offered no success, the second or third attempt proving to be as futile. Anger now my friend, Ubel roared at me during me fourth attempt, the little motor resisted no more, coughing to life, flatulence kicked in as thick black cloud came out, before settling down to a constant purr of feline happiness. The lights flickered upon the veranda and front room, casting their penetrating photons down, forcing the last of the night crawlers to scurry away, back to the safety of darker pockets.

  The father wasn’t a very big man bar his ballooning belly, but still, I wasn’t going to waste my energies just yet, the recovery winch I’d purchase was now going to earn its keep. Bounding his extremities together with the serial killer's tape of choice, just in case the Zolpidem wore off quicker than anticipated. Rarely did I use Zolpidem these days, it’s not my cappuccino. It’s a widely used date-rape drug in the states, and many other countries, for its fast action, but possesses a very short half life meaning the victim could regain their faculties much quicker than required. It does intrigue me how narcotics of such power get from Pharmaceutical security into the hands of dear rapists, but then again I’ve never sat upon the board of such a place.

  The hook slipped between the wrists pulling tight as I reeled him in, his body no match for the power and leverage of electricity and steel. Falling from the tuk-tuk face first into the dirt, as the winch cable continued its relentless march to return the hook safely home. Initially, I thought the steps might offer some resistance, but the market trader was correct this little winch did indeed have the power of strong young oxen. He jiggered over the steps with ease, his body leaving a sinister wake in the dust. Through the door, he came, along the corridor into his new retirement home. Flicking the control switch to the off position as his feet lifted from the floor, I needed to strip him, preparing him for a good night’s recovery.

  He looked a sorry sight hanging there in divers embrace from the little metal oxen bolted to the timber beam above. His head dropped forward like an unconscious drunk, spittle drooling from his mouth.

  “Should we put the cannula’s in now Elizabeth?”

  “No, he should be okay for tonight Lilly.”

  “Can we break a few bones tonight Elsbeth darling? Please…please…..pleeeeeeease!”

  Ubel always impatient, wanting to start the fun and games immediately, never pausing for a moment of quiet contemplation before annihilation. “Not tonight little Ubel, he won't feel anything.” Ubel didn’t like my answer, but only because like a silly puppy, he always wants to play.

  With the father contained in his own impersonation of Hebrew idol I took a few photo’s, my intention was to document the father's punishment to serve as a deterrent to others; it would also help cheer me up in darker times. Setting the video camera up was a complex task, connected the correct leads to the myriad of electrical cables crisscrossing the floor was like a huge rats nest puzzle. The full, directors cut edition of his redemption was what I desired, and all in glorious full high definition, so an external hard drive was also required. He hung there naked, drugged, his last good nights sleep before tomorrow's excitement, the wooden pentagram now laying upon the floor beneath him. Perfectly aligned so as when he awoke he’d see the inverted symbol in all its glory below, Ubel thought it’d be a nice way to arouse his demons first light.

  Primo die - Inquisition

  Srey was dead to the world as I left the suite that morning, I’d slept on the sofa, her dreams more peaceful than her reality. Not having the heart to evict her from her utopia last night when I returned. The room now a graveyard to empty cutlery from room service, her nourishment and my satisfaction complete. The sun poked its golden crown above the horizon on another hot, humid day, Phnom Penh was starting to wake with the healthy delivery of a new day's sun. Street vendors began to appear along the roads, as the purr of scooters grew all around me. My pink tuk-tuk, now christened Lola was an absolute hoot to drive; I’d fallen madly, deeply in love with her, flashing about the place she and I enjoying the simplest of pleasures.

  By the time I’d arrived at the house she was bathed in sunlight, the local birds finalising their encores to a morning's rendition. The house was quiet, the sounds of the countryside were all I could hear until Ubel barked up. “What a beautiful day for a spot of torture Elsbeth!” He was in good spirits this morning; I’ve a sense he’s been up for hours, keeping quiet so not to arouse suspicion.

  “Good morning father,” the sarcasm in my voice danced its way across the humid room bathed in golden rays of sunlight, as the zip chased its tail down the netted doorway. “Who the fuck are
you?” He’s croaky bitter voice spat out, as he struggled to focus without his Joe 90’s.

  “Awfully rude he doesn’t recognise us, Elizabeth.”

  “Not quite the polite response I’d expect from a religious man father.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Think his sermons are as eloquent Elsbeth? Blessed are the child rapists, for they shall fuck up the earth. Tis written in the book of sodomy.”

  “Don’t you remember your sweet little tight girl from yesteryear father?”

  My voice now full of hate and resentment. His weak and scared eyes looked around as he tried to remember which of the many child rape victims was to become his executioner. He then let out a huge barrelling laugh, his memory now fully functional, restoring my name, my memory.

  “The little Norton girl, yes you were a tight little thing, not so much anymore, so I hear.” His husky voice not showing any remorse nor guilt.

  “Before we begin your absolution father, I’d like to know of my parents.”

  “Fuck you, how’s little sis? Did she taste good?” His word cutting deep, as he lavished hollow, callous rounds of laughter at me.

  “Maybe the cat will loosen his tongue, Elsbeth.”

  Ubel now in his element, I created him to hurt, and today he’d assume that mantle, his true potential, his only true love. The black box which the cat slept in was sitting upon the floor next to the stainless steel trolley at windows edge, warming herself in the morning's sun. The small chrome catch flicked up with a reassuring click, beneath the dark velvet lined lid lived a gorgeous example of an old feline navel favourite. Nine, 30-inch long leather plated tails, each with three knots along its length all came together at the hilt of a sumptuous leather bound baton. With Felidae in hand as if it were a great prize to behold, I let her nine leathery tails fall to the floor, a fast, furious flick of wrist and she roared into life, nine ear biting snaps lashed out as each tails tip broke the sound barrier in unison. Eyes wide with fear, the father not able to see, but he could unequivocally hear the flexing of deadly claw.