Camden's Knife

by John Patrick Kavanagh

  “Okay, you got it. He’s up and ready to go. Is an hour soon enough?”

  “An hour from now?” he asked Lane. She nodded again.

  “An hour would be fine, Robin. We’ll look forward to your call.”

  He phoned back ten minutes later, saying that Camden would be at the reception desk on the main floor at 10:30 and would they have someone there to meet him. Stonetree repeated the message and she nodded assent. As he shut off the trans he noticed that something had caught her eye at the far end of the office. From behind he heard a voice with a Midwestern twang say, “Well, hello, gorgeous. How’s my lady?”

  He turned and saw a face it took a moment to associate with a name. The man looked to be about 40, husky and muscular. He was dressed in what looked to be expensive clothes, especially his soft, rust-colored leather blazer with sleeves pushed up to the elbows. His hair was medium length, brown and curly with a darker mustache covering his upper lip. His beagle-brown eyes seemed to blend well with the deep tan and decidedly rugged demeanor.

  At the juncture of the thumb and index finger of his right hand Stonetree noticed what at first he thought were a series of cuts. Then he realized it was a design, a tattoo. The spider web stretched to the man’s wrist, the innkeeper of the maze sitting on the raised bone.

  “Hello Doug, how are you?” she said, walking toward him.”I wasn’t expecting you ’til later in the day.”

  “Gotta keep on the move.” He laughed.”Hey, nice necklace,” he said, flicking his finger at his gift.”Nice tits, too. Any more like you left down on the farm?” He looked to Stonetree.”Oh, sorry babe. Didn’t realize you had company. Us poor old boys from Terra Haute just come up short in the manners department sometimes.” He laughed again.

  “Doug,” she said, “this is David Stonetree, my assistant. David, this is Doug Smite.”

  They shook hands, Stonetree saying he was pleased to meet him. Smite said nothing but instead returned his attention to Lane as he looked at his own hand to see if the spider had jumped onto him.

  “You look a little happier than you did last time I saw you. Have you been eating right and exercising like I told you?” He glanced to Stonetree.”Is it all right for us to talk in front of your ass-sistant?”

  She leaned against the edge of a chair and looked at each of them individually, Smite first, then Stonetree.

  “David can stay if it doesn’t offend you,” she finally said.”He’s bound to get more involved in this sooner or later.”

  “In what?” Stonetree asked.

  “Oh, we got big, big problems this week, Davey,” the man said.”Serious, serious problems. Which I hope our dear Trishabelle is gonna solve for me before I go off in a huff.”

  “I got Wexie’s songs. I like them a lot. Did you bring the rest with you?”

  “I’ve got a total of eight more songs, two of which are marginal, six of which are pure crap. I figure you can get one short album out of the baker’s dozen.”

  “That’s it?” Lane asked.”That’s all? I thought you said he was living in that studio?”

  “He was. But a lot of it was reworks of the same songs, over and over and over. There’s one song on there called American Love Story. He must have done 50 different versions of it and still came out like pig shit.”

  “So you’ve got the masters?”

  “For all 13. On three fucking two inch reels of Scotch 250 recording tape Mr. Dipshit insisted we…I mean, get real. He had to use some antique piece of crap, analog 16 track Struder console that cost me a ton to have refurbished just so…just because that’s what who the fuck knows used in the 80’s to get a certain vibe? And try finding three virgin spools of that tape! That only took about a month out of my life I’ll never get back.” He let out a resigned breath.”Anywho, all locked safely away somewhere in this fine city where precious little claws can’t reach them.”

  “I want to hear the other eight.”

  “I brought a disc with me,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket, lifting it out and tossing it to her.”You can listen to it ’til hell freezes over but it won’t make those songs any better. The five you heard are the ones he did before he decided he needed a little help from his friends at SUE. After that, it all fell apart. Pure crap.” He turned to the Lionne-Demilunes and pointed.”Like that.”

  He took a few steps toward it and chuckled.”So your boyfriend in Mexico finally mailed the goods? Finally? That only took…when’d you take delivery?”

  “A few months ago. It was a very long, complicated process.”

  She looked at the DMD and dropped it onto the cushion.”You mean he recorded the five before? Not the reverse?”

  “No, it done done him in. He’s stupid. Couldn’t deal with it.”

  “And the masters include Blood Brothers and…?”

  “I told you, precious. I brought all 13. Your baby Doug brought you all 13. It works out real easy. You give me four of something,” he said in a low snarl, “and I give you 13 of something.” He looked at Stonetree.”Don’t mind us, Davey. Me and Trishabelle here always talk to each other in numbers.” He turned to her.”Don’t we, babe?”

  “Always in numbers.” She looked toward the door.”Maty,” she shouted, “shut my door, please. No calls, either.”

  “Yes, Ms. Lane.”

  After the door was closed, she motioned for him follow her to the couches.

  “How is he?” she asked, nervously fingering the necklace.

  “He’ll be okay as long as they don’t pull the tubes out of him.” He paused.”Actually, that’s probably a little too optimistic. I doubt we’ll ever see that prick ride a bicycle again, let alone perform. The doctors say he might never snap out of it.” He coughed.”They say he might just stay in that little frozen twilight zone of his mind forever ’til some kind soul like me takes pity on him and puts him out.” He coughed again.”We’d better find us a new headliner quick, Trish.”

  “What a sad, foolish man.”

  “Not foolish, Trisha. He’s a fucking asshole dumbshit motherfucker!” He stood up, rage flowing into his words.”And look at my sister! They get divorced and what does she get? Twenty mil a month for a couple years? That’s it? Why didn’t he O.D., freeze his fucking brains into oblivion while they were married?” He began to shout at the top of his lungs.”Huh? Answer that one! Now who’s gonna get his fortune? His fans? The fucking government? Jesus fucking Christ! And you call him foolish!”

  Stonetree’s jaw dropped.

  “Doug, be sensible. Yelling won’t change anything. The party’s over. Forget it.”

  “You forget it!” he screamed.”You’re set for life. I’ve got things to worry about.”

  “Don’t give me that poor boy from Indiana shit!” she screamed back.”Your farm with a cedar deck the size of an average Broadway stage plus the first 50 rows! Your gold-plated Harleys! Your…what? Your jet that takes you to your three vacation retreats, each with its own little stable of chippies to keep you happy! That’s what I like about you, Doug. You’ve got expensive tastes except when it comes to women! Spare us all the bullshit this morning, okay?”

  His jaw continued to drop.

  “Bullshit?” Smite roared.”Bullshit? Don’t start telling me about bullshit, Trishabelle. If I deal bullshit, I do it with a small B. I do friendly bullshit. I don’t do big time corporate bullshit. I don’t do it with a capital B.’’

  “And the reason you don’t,” she spat, raising her right hand and pointing at him, “is that you never learned your alphabet, you pitiful hillbilly!”

  “Watch your mouth, honey.”

  “Watch your ass, Doug, or somebody might bore you a new set of specifications. You understand? You might manage him, but I own him.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “And next time you go to the beauty parlor,” she said, “tell them you want a refund on your hair. Tell them somebody said you looked like a department store dummy.”

  “I have a certain style of living to which
I’ve become accustomed,” he said in a measured voice.”I do not plan to make the type of adjustments my sister made. I plan to stay on top, and what I do with my hair is my own fucking business.”

  “Your sister’s a two-bit slut.”

  He raised a fist toward her as if he was going to take out a few of her teeth. Then suddenly his expression seemed to become one of understanding.”Anyone who’s spent a Saturday night bar hopping with her would probably agree she is indeed a two-bit slut.” He paused.”She’s just got a slightly unrequited sex drive. Started back in high school when she wasn’t finding the enjoyment that her friends were from their interactions with battery powered devices, and that deficiency has carried through to the present day which might explain some of her anger management issues.” He paused again.”But that’s not my fucking problem either!”

  “All right,” she said, gesturing him to sit down.”Now that we’ve had our respective hysterical outbursts, let’s look ahead of us. David,” she said, shifting her eyes to him, “what Mr. Smite was trying to articulate is the fact that his brother-in-law injected too much of a certain drug and is now convalescing at his home in Jackson Hole.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Trisha. I’m not putting up with that! Just remember who’s got those tapes.”

  “And do you remember who has the three capsules?”

  “Four,” he said.

  “Three, Doug. That’s all there is. That’s the truth. That’s all I can access.”

  “And not one less. I’m getting bored with this game of yours. Let’s do it now.”

  “Where are the tapes?”

  “Don’t worry where the tapes are, Trish. You give me those capsules.”

  “Not just yet.”

  Smite started to get up but she pointed at him in such a threatening way and glared at him with such an icy stare that he stayed on the couch.

  “We all have our deals to cut, Doug,” she hissed.”You have a deal, I have a deal…”

  “Even old Davey here has a deal,” he interrupted, laughing nervously and pointing to Stonetree.”Don’t you, Davey?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “And I have to get all of my ducks in line before we get all of your ducks in line. Is that too hard for you to understand?”

  “Go ahead, babe.”

  “By the close of business today we’ll all have what we want.” She turned to Stonetree.”David, would you please go down to the lobby and wait for Dr. Camden to arrive? When he does, bring him up.”

  “Anything else?” he asked, looking at Smite.

  “Not from me.” He thought a beat.”Camden? The Camden, as in boy-are-my-eyes-bloodshot Camden?”

  “The same,” she sighed.

  “Hey, I’d like to meet him if you don’t mind.”

  “You can say hello but then you’re on your way. We agree?”

  “I just want to shake the man’s hand, that’s all.”

  Stonetree went to the first floor desk, but no Camden.

  He passed the time chatting with the guard and getting a visitor’s tag for his guest. In a few minutes he saw him enter the building and walked toward the scientist quickly, extending his hand.

  “Hello, Dr. Camden. My name is David Stonetree and I work for Trisha Lane. If you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you up to her. Just follow me, please.”

  As they rode up Camden whispered, “I guess we just met, is that right?”

  When they reached the office, the closed door and loud voices from inside informed that Smite was still there. He knocked on the door and Lane asked who it was. He slowly opened it and said, “I have Dr. Camden with me.”

  She motioned them in, looking past Stonetree with anticipation.”Hello, Arthur.”

  The scientist took a few steps into the office then stopped as if hesitant about entering a cold lake.”Hello, Trisha. You look well.”

  “And you. The beard is new?”

  “Since last time, yes.”

  She took a step toward him.”Your wife?”

  “She’s fine, thank you.” He glanced at Smite.”I don’t believe I know your guest.”

  “Arthur Camden, Doug Smite. Mr. Smite is Wexford’s manager. Doug, you know who the doctor is.”

  “Yes, Doctor.” He shook his hand.”I’m pleased to meet you. I don’t meet many intellectuals in my line of work.”

  “Nor I in mine, or any of those young women who follow you around.”

  “Not me, Art. They follow him, not me.”

  “Mr. Smite has his fair share of fans too, don’t you Dougie? Please, have a seat, Doctor,” she continued, motioning to one of the couches.”Mr. Smite was just leaving.”

  “Maybe I’ll stick around a few minutes, Trishabelle. I have a stake in this conversation too.”

  “That won’t be necessary. The doctor and I will be able to dispatch this much easier the less interference we have.”

  “Oh, you never know,” he shot back, seating himself next to the scientist.”I can be real helpful during a tough negotiating session.”

  “Doug, please.”

  “And I’m familiar with the terms being discussed, too. You don’t mind, do you Art?”

  “If Miss Lane has no objections, I have none.”

  “I do, a number of them.” She sighed, sitting across from them.”But I’m not in the mood to argue about it. David, close the door.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “You might as well stay. Just close the door.”

  She looked at the two men as he did.”No calls, Maty,” she shouted, then took a deep breath.

  “Doctor, I’ll make this short so we don’t take up too much of Mr. Smite’s incredibly valuable time.”

  “I always appreciated your directness, Trisha. You always manage to get to the point quickly. I like that in a woman.”

  “I’m sure you do, Doctor,” she said, motioning for Stonetree to sit on the ledge.”As I said, let’s keep it short.”

  She crossed her legs and flipped back her hair.

  “Is it your understanding that all of our contractual obligations have been satisfied?”

  “It is. Soon.”

  “There remains the matter of four ounces of CY6A4 that were supposedly lost during an accident in Research. I have reason to believe they’re in your possession.”

  “Is that so.”

  “Yes, it is. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

  “Might be.”

  “So?”

  “Let’s assume you are. Let’s also assume you have some notebooks of mine.” He glanced to the shadowbox displaying the knives and gestured.”And some additional personal property.”

  “Let’s assume that too.”

  “Well am I correct?”

  “I have some notebooks of ours, Doctor. They contain your thoughts but they belong to us. As for your cutlery collection, those were seized as contraband and likewise belong to us.”

  “Continue.”

  “I’ll exchange them for the CY6A4. That is the offer, pure and simple.” She stood and walked to the window, leaning with her hands on the ledge next to Stonetree and gazing out at the city.”And as an added bonus you can have your kitchen utensils, too.”

  “Don’t let her get too close to you, kid,” Smite chortled.”You might get hurt.”

  “Shut up, Doug!” she snapped, continuing with her back to them.”If such a proposition is of interest to you, we can talk. If not, we can terminate the discussion.”

  “I love it when you talk that way, Trishabelle.”

  “Doug,” she said softly, turning to him, “would you please stick it up your hillbilly ass.”

  “I’m sorry, babe,” he said, grabbing one of the pillows on the couch.”I’ll be good. You have to excuse me, Doc. She just gets me excited when she talks that way.”

  “Does Pierre know about this?” Camden asked, ignoring Smite’s comment.

  “I’m the group vice president over Pharmaceuticals, Doctor. You should have realized that
a long time ago. Would you like to see one of my business cards?”

  “That won’t be necessary. The two of you speak as one.”

  “Good. Right now would be fine. I don’t suppose you brought the distillate with you, though.”

  “Hardly. Not something I’d want to carry into enemy territory. You’d agree with that, wouldn’t you Mr. Smite? You seem like a reasonable man.”

  “Absolutely! I like you, Camden. You’re all right. Now we’re making some progress.” He turned to Lane.”See, Trish? I told you I could help things along.”

  She sighed and returned to the couch.”So what would you propose, Arthur?”

  “First of all, I’d like to see those notebooks of mine…I’m sorry, of yours, if it wouldn’t be too big an inconvenience.”

  “David? The cabinet behind my desk. On the right side on the bottom, you’ll find them.”

  He went to the bureau, finding a blue one and a green one, maybe 100 pages each. For the second time that week he was holding history in his hands. If he counted the Mustang’s briefcase, three. If he counted Trisha, four. He brought them to the coffee table and set them down.

  “My old friends,” Camden murmured, gliding his hand across the covers.”There’s a lot of me in these old books.” He paused and looked at Lane.”May I look through them for a moment?”

  “Be my guest,” she replied, a tinge of impatience in her voice.”It’s all there, don’t worry.”

  He picked up the first and rifled through the pages, some of them sticking together. Then he picked up the second and repeated his examination, though this volume drew more of his attention. He paged through it slowly, the smile on his face growing larger with each turn.

  “This was the low spot,” he said, looking at a page and then at Smite.”Did you ever think you were on to something, Mr. Smite, only to find it was nothing more than a dead-end street?”

  “All the time, Art. It comes with the business.”

  “Look at this trash,” Camden said, tearing a few pages out of the book and dropping them on the table.”Trash. Junk. Wasted months.”

  “What are you doing? That’s our property.”

  “I know it’s yours, and you can keep it!” He chuckled, ripping out a page, and then another, letting them drop to the floor.”All those years of thought, and I wasn’t thinking a goddamn thing.”