by Aidan Truhen
No. Shit. I don’t know. Shit I don’t know how the fuck do I find out?
Don’t find out Sarah because if you go looking they will find you. Jesus are you calling me from your cell?
No the callbox outside my motel.
Did you pay for the room with a card?
Fuck, Price! Am I an idiot who’s never seen a TV show? Or am I a fucking intelligent woman whose life has been fucked up by her interactions with the number one asshole in the country?
I wouldn’t say I was the top really I mean maybe the worst but there are like politicians and judges and all that who are assholes who are way topper than I am.
I hate you Price.
Then why are you calling?
…Because maybe I want you to fix this. Can you fix this?
I am trying Sarah because that is also a precondition of my being alive.
Yeah well woot woot for the world. It’s like heads I win tails you lose there.
Yeah well.
Fix it Price for Christ’s sake fix it. They are going to find me and they will kill me and I don’t even like you but they will kill me just in case it hurts you a little bit. A little tiny fucking bit, Price! That’s right isn’t it?
Yeah.
Will it?
Will it what?
Will it hurt you just a little bit?
Not really.
Fuck you Price.
What motel?
What?
What motel?
Why do you care?
I SEND A BAG FULL OF MONEY and a couple guns to Sarah’s motel, deep dark web distribution style. A new phone. Moderate risk to her but almost none to me because: Poltergeist. Fuck do I know, maybe she gets lucky and completely kills a Demon. Would be hilarious:
Hey you Sarah the Lawyer we are here to kill you!
No no you won’t I am Sarah the Lawyer I don’t even like that asshole and he doesn’t like me!
Mwhahaha we do not care because evil! Now we crush you with our overwhelming criminality!
That’s it asshole pew pew pew!
You got a gun? Fucksake lady! Pow pow!
Pew pew pow pow pew pew oh shit BOGGGA BOGGA BOGGA BOGGA BOGGA FWOOSH ZWINK ZWINK SPLODE you dead lady?
Pew!
Ack! I am killed by a fucking amateur! The shame!
Pew pew SPLODE oh alas I die but I never loved Jack Price and that’s just bad judgement so I guess I had it coming. Eeeurgh.
Finis.
Man gotta keep his spirits up somehow under these trying fucking circumstances.
FUCKING SEVEN DEMONS are putting their own coke on my streets! Man that is just fucking rude and they are calling it fucking Beyoncé which is I cannot I cannot fucking even. You better not mess with Beyoncé but oh yes they did and it’s got a little Manga demon chick on the wrap with a little spangly top on like the cover of Dangerously in Love. What the fuck? I cannot have some zen hippy coke with a sex name running around turning heads in my neighbourhood. It’s just rude is what it is and inconsiderate because they don’t give a shit about coke and what if I come out of this alive? What if I don’t and someone local wants to step in and step up? They’ve fucked up my business model is what and that is unreasonable I’m just trying to get by here in what is a dog-eat-dog world and this is pissing in the well is what. They’re calling it a Metered Access Model. Metered access my ass! Fucking subscription service with all the risks that entails in terms of bookkeeping and regular payment schedules. It’s fucking convenient for the client and it’s fine if you don’t plan to stay but it’s an asshole infrastructurally top-heavy model that’s vulnerable to law enforcement penetration and backtrace and they know it, but they are not here for the long haul this is to dick me and it is dickery and yes I am offended because there is just no need. No need for this at all.
So obviously what you do is you buy a bunch of it and you cut that crap with some anthrax you happen to have lying around and then you put it right the fuck back into circulation. Put your face in that.
Yeah that’s gonna sting man. Bottom line that’s gonna sting.
ACTUALLY I DID NOT HAVE ANTHRAX just lying around but you know what things are even the CDC people have mortgages and mistresses and once you reassure them it’s a drug thing not an Islam thing they get all cosy and patriotic because people are racist man. Just fucking racist.
Anthrax, for fuck’s sake. For the price of a mid-range executive compact.
Fucking society going to hell is what.
SO ONCE UPON A TIME IN FINLAND there were two brothers named Akilles and Tuukka and Tuukka was the eldest and he loved that his brother was called Akilles because: Achilles right, like the heel, like the mighty warrior who eventually died of being shot in the foot. How much fun is that when you’re ten? Ooooh ooooh Akilles how is your foot? Did I tread on your foot? Will you die now? Oooooh don’t smite me mighty hero or maybe I will tread on your foot!
Turns out Achilles was killed by a Trojan called Paris who has the distinction of being the guy whose entire fault the whole fall of Troy is and the best part is what was Achilles doing when he was shot? Imagine you’re just giving a ten-year-old moose-eating farmboy fuckhead as much as you possibly can. Yes! Correct. Achilles was mourning the death of a guy some people say was his boooooyfrriiiiend. Right? Seriously fucking parents take note, right? I mean backwoods Finland in the early 90s? I’m gonna go right out on a limb here and say however enlightened your Nordic culture that was something to work with. And it turns out it was, at least enough so that one way and another Tuukka is the boss brother and Akilles is the one who follows him around and packs the cases and tidies up the torture chamber and books hotels. Akilles is the fucking organised one is what and he’s smooth and smart and his brother is the madcap fuckhead who gets all the girls. Likes to steal Akilles’ women too of course and pretend that’s like a cool brother thing. Like that. These guys are tight like forever but only because they are locked together with all the batshit id and ego brother crap and there’s no place else for them to go. Brothers is their identity. Always has been.
Whatever. You want to understand how this goes you look at a map of Europe. Russia is just huge. It’s six and a half million square miles. The contiguous United States with all its enormous deserts and prairies is three million. Russia is continentally big. It’s got a lot of borders and the countries with those borders are pretty nervous about it because Russia periodically reverse prolapses and then they’re not countries any more. Finland has had to be pretty tough about it. You know how big Finland is? Finland is one hundred and thirty thousand square miles and it has been independent for one hundred years. Stalin never got Finland. Got all those others like Latvia and Estonia right but not Finland. Finland leaned on a fucking giant stuffed polar bear and picked its teeth with a bolt action and was like: Yeah Joe was there something you wanted to say? I’m sorry pencildick I can’t hear you over the sound of the arctic wind.
Log cabin motherfuckers, see. Remind you of anyone?
So Volodya says to me: Akilles.
You sure?
You got doubt?
Nope.
Nope I also nope.
Got no doubt. Akilles is the one we talk to because you know what, if Akilles could have another identity where he was the boss, would that be interesting to him? No no of course not that’s just an awful thing to say! You bet your sweet fucking ass it would and all he’d have to do is turn on the person he loves and hates most in the world and that right there is a fucking coin toss. Also narratively: one brother kills the other and assumes his position? That is fucking Seven Demons PR gold man it’s not like Fred will be pissed about that if this goes his way right? PR gold. And Akilles has to know that deep down, has to have thought about it because brothers know those things.
Yeah you’re not the younger one then.
Roman Emp
ire man. Recruit the barbarians. Volodya is a tribal elder, he’s a spiritual authority to the Seven Demons. He’s taking lunch with Akilles, got a little microphone doodad so I’m listening like I’m right there at the table not sitting in this crappy diner down the street. You know what they do, Finns and Ukrainians? At least the log cabin motherfuckers which these men are? They go for an early lunch they put a bottle of vodka on the table and when they take the lid off they throw it the fuck away. I know I can hear the cork hit the floor. Clink slurp hiss. Now to business.
I am Volodya you have heard my name.
Yes Volodya I have. It is a pleasure to meet you.
I was the first of the Demons in my time.
This is known Volodya you were the only one of us to ever retire.
No! Before me was Maxim the Bomber and before him was Miss Pan. They also retired.
I did not know this.
It is not known. People would still seek them out. For revenge.
Do they seek you out?
Of course but my house is in my mountains where I can hear them coming.
And then?
And then I hide Akilles. They come and they find an empty place and they go.
You do not kill them?
Of course I do. I follow them home and do it there and it is never known that they found me so the number who come is very small.
(I’m really glad now I asked him to meet me rather than knocking on his door.)
You are Volodya the Sniper.
Yes. That is why when I kill them I do not use a gun. In this way I am invisible.
(For Akilles this is like church.)
But you are here. We are speaking.
Yes Akilles because you are like me. You also are a thinking man. You are tidy. It is a great pleasure to speak to a tidy man. I have passion Akilles but I am tidy. It is a matter of discipline. It is training. It is my nature. Also yours. We are passionate men who can hold that passion within. We love women and we let them go. We kill when it is appropriate not when it is not. We are fire in a forge not making the forest to ash. For this reason we are sometimes misunderstood. It is sometimes necessary to correct an impression of gentleness. Yes?
Yes.
Then I can speak to you of this history and I know that it will go no further. So I do because I want you to know this about us. That you are like me.
I am not the First Demon.
No today you are not. It is Frederick. He is also a sniper. It pleases me that he is a sniper. Not so much he is a PR guy.
He is a good leader.
That also pleases me. It is good to follow a good leader.
It is.
(I’ve got the bud in my ear and I’m like Volodya are you fucking with me now? But he is not. That what just happened? That was smooth as glass seduction, log cabin stylee.)
Now Akilles tell me of your brother.
Tuukka?
Of course.
What do you wish to know?
I have a venture in mind.
Tuukka is very skilled.
Can he lead men?
Yes.
You say that as if you are not sure.
I am sure.
That also. Yet you follow him.
I follow Frederick.
Nyeh! This is problem. You do not follow your brother because he is what I need. You follow him because he is ahead of you. That is all.
No I—he is my brother it has always been this way.
That is not a reason that it should be so forever. That is habit. Sometimes Akilles it is good that the order of things is turned upon its head. But this presents me with problem Akilles I need a man for a contract job and I thought it would be Tuukka. Maybe instead you. Can you also lead men?
I have never tried.
Can you organise and instruct?
Yes this I can do.
That is all. These are professional men. I think also you will show them that fire in you and they also will burn as you do in your light. That is leadership too.
I do not know.
But I do.
When is the contract?
Immediately.
That is a problem. I am engaged.
I have heard this. Also I have heard that it is not well.
It is imperfect.
I hear where there is a man you cannot beat.
That is not the case. It is temporary.
What does your brother say?
He says we will be the ones. He is hunting. It is what he does.
What is he hunting? A fucking deer in the financial district?
He says he can catch the scent of a man’s spirit in the air.
What do you say?
I say it is amazing how often he catches that scent when I have spent a week following the money.
Hah!
Eheh!
HA! DRINK!
And so and so and so it goes and it is fucking endless but you can see it already. You can see what’s happening. Elder Volodya is getting under this guy’s skin.
That’s when I almost die.
I’M LAUGHING MY SOPHISTICATED ASS OFF about Tuukka smelling a man’s spirit in the air of this city—not in any city fucker, but this one there are so many things in the air spirits and ghosts and haunts and what all else and then there’s life man there’s coffee and jasmine tea and pizzas and the stink of buses and there’s men wearing too much cologne to hide the musk of that hard thirty minutes with the woman they carpool with. There’s professors smoking weed and comedians burning joss to hide how they don’t and everywhere musicians and rosin and dry ice and the sea carrying freight and seagull shit and there is a whole damn living world in this air and there is just no way Tuukka is smelling me.
And then I see the fucker walking down the street and I know. I just know he is looking for me.
That is impossible.
He is looking. For. Me.
Tuukka doesn’t even know his brother is here. He’s not looking that way, not not looking that way. Doesn’t look towards Volodya, then does, still doesn’t really see him. Not looking for Elder Volodya. Looking for me. Got my description in his hunter’s head, my picture maybe because you know the doc has that kind of mind that gives a really good description to an artist. He’s seeing the line of me and the heft and height and he is fucking looking for me.
Fuck am I paranoid?
Fuck is that the point? Am I supposed to run and then Tuukka’s gonna see me? Or if I stay here is he gonna just walk up and come into this place and see me? What the fuck?
Fucking manhunter. What the fuck?
Here’s Tuukka: better than six foot tall, got that rangy Nordic thing, like he skis and shoots and he can do that all day and still make the hot tub a real special place for a group of inclined ladies and then get up the next morning eat a bear for breakfast and log cabin motherfucker his way up Everest or what the fuck you want. Got that rangy, loose walk like his bones are heavy iron and his muscles are all plingy elastic and fuck it fuck it how is he here? Walking curved like straight towards me not like he knows like he can fucking feel me.
Scent the spirit my ass but he is.
Motherfucker.
That is not possible.
Any sufficiently advanced mojo is indistinguishable from science remember.
There. Look at that son of a bitch. See that? He is touching his gut like it’s talking to him. That is not his gut there is something under there. That is a direction belt: sequence of pads strapped to the skin, pad vibrates it means THIS WAY. Fucker is homing in on me, getting a signal from something. From what?
Fuck.
FUCK.
Karenina is up in my shit. Did the impossible. Backtraced my phone somehow. Fucking Tsutomu Shimomura’d me. Fuck. I bet that’s exactly
what she did fucking blunt force infrastructural approach: flooded the fucking city with detector wagons, got lucky when Fred called me to gloat over Billy. She got the pattern of my secure login, my telegrapher’s fist. You know what that means: fist? Turns out the rhythm and pacing of your interaction with your technology is unique to you like the way an old-time radio operator could recognise another one’s style of Morse. True story. Fist now is a little less distinct, why I’m not dead yet. It’s seventy, eighty per cent is all. Lots of false positives. Lots of dead people who use their thumbs like me maybe. Tracing and tracking ever since and now she’s got lucky. Lucky enough. How good’s the triangulation? Ten metres maybe not good with elevations. Fucking fuckedy fuck. I’m being fisted and that is not the title of a porn movie I mean clearly it is but not fucking today.
Cut and run. Leave the phone running, kill the data—one touch. Should have had one made with a self-destruct, might have taken someone out. Next time. Next time. Although it’s a bit dicey walking around with a bomb against your head. Not sure I like that. Plus what if you drop your phone? Plus definite no-fly material. But there are use cases I mean now I mean—
Shut up shut up. Look around there’s an exit by the kitchen. Less than a minute. Leave the phone? Tuukka will know I was here will know I ran. Will know to follow me. Will report. Will know Volodya was here with Akilles. Busted. Either Volodya turns me in to protect himself or he assumes that when they catch me I’ll turn on him. Either way I get to add him to the list of people trying to kill me.
Forty seconds until Tuukka walks in that door.
Woman buys a sandwich. Walks out. Should have put the phone in her pocket. Too slow. Too far. Thirty seconds. Frozen. Bunny frozen. Dead bunny frozen. Look around: no one else leaving. Someone has to. Make someone leave. Pay them. Scare them. Can’t do either. Too slow. Why would you leave? A fire? A robbery? No good no good. Twenty-five seconds.
DUDE DID THAT BITCH JUST LIFT YOUR WALLET? (No I did, same time I gave you my phone, same time I put my hand on your shoulder. See how that works?)
What the fuck man what Jesus she was never even close to me—