Alexandra Grunberg is a New York City based author and actress. Her work has appeared in Daily Science Fiction, Pantheon Magazine, Perihelion Science Fiction, and more. You can find links to her stories at alexandragrunberg.wordpress.com.
(Back to Table of Contents)
Kastner's Job
by Bojan Ratković; published August 9, 2013
When he first took possession of a small leather briefcase from the man in the white hat, Kastner didn’t intend to open it. His job was clean and simple: get the merchandise, make the call, wait exactly 48 hours before making the delivery. He never looked inside — the thought didn’t even cross his mind — and this, he believed, was why the woman continued to employ him.
He received the package at the same place, the back entrance of the Café Isidore across the street from the park. As he did a hundred times before, Kastner nodded to the man in the white hat, grabbed the briefcase, and strolled casually into the park and out of sight. He entered the phone booth on the corner of Flint and Elyse at five past one, his beige fedora perched just above his eyes. He closed the doors behind him and grabbed the receiver, sliding a single quarter into the slot and dialing the woman’s number. There was a brief pause, and then the familiar click on the other line.
"Hello."
"It’s Kastner. I’ve got a present for you, miss. It is your birthday."
"Yes. Thank you, Kastner."
"Will there be a party?"
"There will be, at the old place. Will you come?"
"Yes." They would meet two days from now, on the third floor of the art gallery at 1 o’clock.
There was a slight crackling on the other end, and then the woman spoke again. "Kastner, the present. I need you to open it."
"Pardon?" Kastner’s steel-gray eyes darted from left to right.
"Yes, please. It needs to be done, and it has to be you. You’re the only one I can trust with this. I need you to make sure it works."
Kastner was silent. The woman’s request was unprecedented; she was asking him to look inside the package.
"Excuse me, miss," Kastner said, gripping the receiver tightly, "forgive me, but what exactly am I looking for?"
There was a brief pause, and then another crackle on the other end. The woman sighed. "I don’t know. The man in the white hat wouldn’t tell me — not this time. But I know it’s something special. That’s why I need your help."
Kastner shook his head. "But surely you have someone else who could ... who could do this for you. My job has never been —"
"It has to be you, Kastner. I’m sorry, but I can’t trust the others. Not with this. This is your last job, after all, and then you’re free to do as you wish. But I hope I can count on you this one final time."
"Yes, but ..."
"It would mean a lot to me, and it goes without saying that you will be properly rewarded. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t absolutely necessary."
"I understand," Kastner said after some time. "I will do as you ask, and I will see you at the party."
"Good." Another loud click and she was gone. Kastner frowned; he slammed the phone down on the hook and burst out the door. He stepped quickly through the busy street, his long coat whipping behind him. The briefcase felt heavy under his arm.
Fiction Vortex - August 2013 Page 3