The Oligarch (Robert Martin Book 1)

by Vartan Mansuryan

  I’m Robert Martin.

  I grabbed the gun and bullets I found in Tiger’s bedroom, then I tucked away the gun inside my jacket pocket and walked outside.

  * * *

  The man at the very top lived in Shadow Hills. A place and town you’ve never heard of. But it’s there, in the valley. He lived in a lavish mansion, the kind only seen in movies. I had been to his mansion once, a very long time ago, and I remembered everything about it: the yellow exterior, the tiled interior, the marble bathrooms, the swimming pool, the tennis courts, the basketball courts, and the horse stables. All this was guarded by two men. Vlad and Luke. Two of the biggest and meanest sons of bitches to ever come out of the old country. They were extremely loyal to the man, and always remained within twenty feet of him.

  The place had cameras, surveillance system, but I didn’t care. All I needed was a mask and I’d go in there with guns blazing. It was my only shot. There would be no sneaking in. I was not that sort. Once I finished, my plan was to call Charlie and have him clean up the mess.

  I was too drunk to drive, so I stepped outside and walked until I reached a seven-eleven. I bought a can of coffee, a bottle of water, a pair of gloves, and a beanie. It was getting late and I needed a place to sleep. I walked north until I came across a motel. I paid cash and rented a room on the second floor and ordered pizza and chicken wings. By midnight I was sober. There was no pain which was a bit of a surprise.

  I cleaned up and took a long shower. Then I took out the gun and placed it on the table. I imagined myself pulling the trigger and killing the oligarch. The boss, the man, the leader, the good guy, the evil guy, the one who decides my fate. I was about to decide his.

  By morning I was refreshed and my tongue yearned for coffee. I left the motel room without checking out. I chugged down the can of coffee I had bought the day before. When I was finished, I tossed the empty can on the sidewalk and continued walking. I was miles away from my destination. I needed to be patient. The walking helped build enough clarity in my head to plan out the entire assignment. I walked until I reached a park and sat under a shade until noon. Then called for an Uber.

  The ride lasted for fifteen minutes. I had the driver stop just outside the street corner of the oligarch’s mansion. The mansion was so large that I could see its second-story balconies over the trees. An oversized flag of the old country stood on a pole and waved through the breeze. I approached the mansion.

  9.

  Knock on the front door. One of the goons will answer. Probably ask me what I’m doing there. I’ll say, “I need to see the boss.” When he turns around to lead me to him, I’ll shoot him in the back of the head. Then it’s on to goon number two. Find him and kill him. Once I do that, it should be easy to find the king himself. I won’t say a word. I’ll just look him straight in the eye and put a bullet through his skull. Everyone will know who I am. Everyone will know the name Robert Martin.

  But it wasn't as simple as I had imagined it. I hid behind the bushes just past the entrance gate. My bent knees froze in one place, until I saw movement by the mansion door. The oligarch’s wife and two children walked out. A black SUV drove up to them. The wife and children sat inside the car and it drove away. This was my chance.

  My knees began to move on their own. I was no longer in charge of them. It felt like something was moving them for me. I almost had to look down to make sure no one was carrying me forward. I don't like to use the word scared, but maybe this was it? Maybe Robert Martin finally cracked.

  Run back home you fool!

  The brown mansion gates were closed when I approached. A single camera attached to the outer wall looked on. I looked up at the camera and waved hello. The gate suddenly opened. My heart jumped up and a nervous pulse went through my left arm.

  What are you doing? Why did you wave?

  The front yard garden, with pink roses and tall palm trees was completely empty. I walked up slowly, trying to control my nerves. A few more steps forward! I was close to the front entrance. But before I could reach it, the front door swung open and out came Vlad! Tall like a red wood tree and just as wide. His dark wide set eyes looked straight into mine. Then it occurred to me that I might just die right here. This hulking goon could kill me with one punch or even crush my skull with both hands. I thought about running, I thought about charging forward, and I even thought about taking out my gun. But the thoughts never turned into action. I simply stood in front of Vlad with a stupid look on my face and my back arched. Frozen, like a silly cartoon trying to make its way past the villain. Then he spoke!

  “He’s not here,” said Vlad.

  I took a few steps closer.

  “I said he’s not here!” he shouted.

  He reached for his jacket pocket and took out a silver handgun.

  “Don’t be stupid. He’s not here. Turn around and leave!”

  I took one more step. He pointed the gun up.

  “Cabin. Big Bear Lake. That’s all you need to know,” he said slowly and lowered the hand gun.

  I finally understood Vlad and took several steps backwards. When I reached the gate, I turned around and ran down the block as fast as possible. The loyal Vlad, from the old country, had turned on his boss. The oligarch’s empire was crumbling.

  When I reached the end of the block I called Charlie.

  “Charlie!” I yelled out.

  “Calm down. Plans have changed. We’ve made it a lot easier for you Robert. Did you really think we weren't going to help you out? It’s a big job my friend. Even the best need help. Have you seen the size of Vlad? A tank could not take that man out. I’m texting you the address to a cabin in Big Bear. Go now. We want this done by the tomorrow. His family is supposed to join him in a few days. We don't want you to run into the wife and children. They are off-limits. Go now. Go!”

  “But...”

  “Robert...

  “Charlie! How did you turn Vlad?”

  I don’t think I’m right for this Charlie. I think I’m losing it. I need some time to myself. I can’t see straight Charlie.

  “Everyone is counting on you. Don’t disappoint. It’s a cabin high atop a mountain Robert. Consider yourself lucky. Besides making this super easy for you, I might have just saved your life.”

  Oh words. Where are your words? Why can’t you say them? Why can’t you say what the drink tells you to? The drink makes you honest. The drink makes you brave. The drink makes you Robert Martin. Words. Why can’t I say the words? I’m caught in a tailspin. The ground is coming up fast. This is going to be painful. This is going to be predictable. I know how this ends.

  10.

  The sun crawled back under the mountains. Purple and blue clouds formed and tiny trickles of raindrops touched the top of my head. Thunder and lightning, a rare occurrence in this part of this world, began. I walked… I walked through the mud and the pools of water inside cracked and broken pavement. I cared little about it. My feet were soaking wet. The water sipped through the top of my shoes and into my socks. It was a good and welcome feeling. The splashing wet dampness actually made me feel alive.

  I can’t feel pain anymore.

  This wasn’t the bottom for me. I had seen worse. I had drunk more before and I had done all kinds of crazy shit in the past. The bottom was that first poor bastard they made me kill. He was a good man, innocent. Not innocent like the rest of the empty-minded drones that walk from point A to point B, but innocent because he actually wanted some change. He felt remorse.

  Paul. That was the poor soul’s name. He had seen the worst of the worst, from the old country, and the best of the best, from the new one. He built himself up a small empire. He twisted arms when he had to, but only out of necessity. Paul made money, and Paul gave back. And he always took care of the old country folk. The old ones, the poor ones, the sick, the children. What he kept for himself was a good meal every night. It was the one thing he could never let go of, and that was a table full of food. He was a good man and I enjoyed his compan
y. And they made me kill him.

  I can’t remember anything else about Paul. Except the stupid look on his face when I pointed the gun at him. No words were exchanged, just a stupid look on his face, as if I had caught him by surprise. But he had to have known I was coming. He was alone, of course, they were always alone. Except the football player’s wife. And with a stupid look on his face, Paul grabbed the fork and knife and held them up vertically. He had a bib on, like a little baby, and the light from the chandelier gleamed off his balding head. His mouth said nothing, then it slightly quivered. His big, dark-colored eyes said nothing. It was just a stupid look. I guess he wanted to finish the meal in front of him, but I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. I shot Paul between the eyes and his head fell into the hot plate of food.

  I miss Paul.

  * * *

  When I was tired of walking, I stopped at a gas station and bought a warm cup of coffee. I asked the attendant for change and he handed me four quarters for a dollar.

  “Do they still have payphones around here?” I asked the attendant.

  He pointed outside and said I’d find one at the corner. I thanked him and walked out.

  The payphone stood silently and alone. I approached it and called my wife. There was no answer.

  “Hey this is Seda. Leave a message.”

  “Honey,” I spoke softly into the phone, “It’s me. I’m checking in. That’s what normal people say, right? I’m just checking in to see how you and the kids are. I’m somewhere far away, and things are going as good as they can. Love you. Give the kids a hug and a kiss from me. I want to see you. I miss you so much.”

  My wife was used to this. She knew how the game worked: husband goes away for a little while and comes back with a bag full of cash. The kids get all they want plus the best education money can buy, and she gets whatever she pleases. She’s good to me. Never complains. Never cheats. Always has a smile on her face, no matter how long I’m gone. She likes to cook meals for me each time I come back from an assignment. She insists I stay home for at least a week and hides my phone so no one can call me. On Friday nights, she takes the kids to her mother's and we go on dates, usually a dinner and a movie. There’s a sushi joint in Hollywood, on Sunset Boulevard – she loves that place. The sushi is lousy but she likes the view. After dinner, with our bellies full of food, she likes to hold my hand and walk to the movie theatre. On Saturdays, she loves to take the kids out for dinner and see the smiles on their faces. And on Sundays we go to the park. She likes to repeat this for as many weeks as possible until I get the call again. Then I go away. I have no idea what she does while I’m away.

  And my kids. I don’t like to talk about my kids. You know enough about my personal life. My kids are for my heart and soul and eyes and ears. My kids are mine.

  11.

  I made it to the apartment by nightfall. Kristina lay on the couch sleeping. She woke up when I approached in my wet clothes. I sensed a great deal of fear in her eyes.

  “Oh my God! Where have you been? We have to get you out of these clothes.”

  She leapt forward and reached for my jacket. Then she began to undress me. I stood, while she took each item of wet clothing off me. I barely moved while Kristine did this. All I wanted to do was stand there and let the world revolve around me. I felt like the center of it all.

  I am Robert Martin.

  Kristina returned with fresh clothing. A pair of boxers and sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She handed me the boxers. I looked at them and dropped them to the floor. She picked them up from the floor and handed them to me.

  “Snap out of it. You’re going to get a cold or pneumonia or something.”

  "You lousy bitch. Why'd you have to toss away all the booze?"

  "Stop it!"

  I walked into the bedroom and sat on the bed for a long while. I stared at the empty walls and then at my knees and feet. What chance did I have to survive this? Was this even real? I needed a drink. I changed out of the wet underwear and into fresh boxers. Kristina walked into the room.

  “I usually go out with my wife on Friday nights.”

  “Oh.”

  “She has no idea about this place,” I said, “she has no idea about you either or what I really do for a living.”

  “You can tell her about me. I’m okay with it. I mean there is really nothing going on between us, is there?”

  “No.”

  “Unless, we go out tonight and something does happen.”

  She stroked her fingers along my shoulder and bicep.

  “We can go out. You choose the place. Don't touch me."

  She quickly pulled her hand back.

  “You can choose the place,” I said, “and you can drive too.”

  And just like that, I found myself in the passenger’s seat. I puffed away on a cigarette, while Kristine had both hands on the steering wheel. She sped past the canyons and all the way to Ventura Boulevard. Then the car came to a sudden stop in front of a sushi restaurant.

  The restaurant was called, “Red Star Sushi.” Kristine said it was her favorite and told me her boyfriend used to bring her here all the time. All thoughts of the assignment left my mind. I was going to run away from it, with Kristine.

  We would head north and make ourselves feel at home, in every dirty little motel there was. Maybe have a few kids with her, and then abandon them too. After a while, I'd return home. My wife would have remarried and my kids would end up hating me. Then I'd check up on Charlie. Hopefully, he'd be dead by then. Guys like Charlie never age past 40. Then I’d be happy.

  “Look at me Robert. Have you ever been here?” Kristine pointed up at a restaurant sign.

  I snapped out my daydream and focused on Kristine. Her back was towards me. She wore a white dress with an open back. I looked down at her long exposed legs.

  “No, but there’s a place on Sunset. It's where my wife likes to go.”

  “She’s not here now. You don’t have to keep mentioning her.”

  I followed her inside the restaurant.

  We sat in a corner booth. The place was dimly lit. She ordered and I ate. When I asked for a drink, she told the waitress to ignore me.

  “He will have a soda instead.”

  All sense of pride had left my body. I was no longer Robert Martin. I was now Bob.

  When we finished, she paid for the bill using my wallet and pulled me out of my chair.

  “Come on. Let’s have some fun.”

  We drove down Ventura and made a left on Laurel Canyon. She drove frantically through the mountain pass. The winding road led us to Sunset Boulevard. We were in West Hollywood. I guessed she was about to drive to some club. I have nothing against those sorts of folks, but it wasn’t my thing and I considered myself too old for that crap. The best possible outcome would be to leave her at such and such club and drive away. To my surprise she made a turn on Highland and went straight up the hill and made a left on Franklin. A few more miles down the streets and we were suddenly in the Hollywood Hills. Mountains of endless oversized houses and mansions sprang up everywhere.

  "This is where all the famous people of LA live!" she shouted.

  "I can hear you just fine. No need for that."

  "Relax and have fun. Look!" she pointed to a house, “this is the place."

  She stopped in front of a two-story modern home and jumped out of the car.

  "Come!" She called out.

  I followed her to the front door with my hands in my pockets. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. The streets were empty. The neighborhood was quiet. She approached the door and pointed up at the camera just above it.

  "Look, that’s not real. Don't worry about it."

  I gave her an awkward thumbs up. Robert Martin, now turned Bob, who can't complete an assignment, did not care. She went through her purse and took out a key and waved for me to follow her. Her hand reached out to the silver medal door, I heard a click. She opened the door and went inside. I was right behind her.


  "Don't worry. No one is home."

  "Alarm. A place like this has to have an alarm."

  "No alarms. Come."

  Then she took it upon herself to explain who the house belonged to.

  "This is my boyfriend’s house. He has money, lots of money, hidden away all over this house. He told me.”

  The shy girl who used to say very little showed her true colors. And I thought she was mature for her age.

  “Come, let me show you his bedroom.”

  She took my hand and led me down the hallway and into the master bedroom. The room was bigger than my apartment. It was probably bigger than my house. My wife would be jealous.

  “Amazing, don’t you think?”

  I gave her a slight nod. Kristine pulled me towards the bed. She sat at the edge as she held both my hands.

  “Come closer.”

  I came closer to her until our lips nearly touched. She leaned back and fell on the bed and took me with her. I fell between her legs. She took off her dress in one quick motion and tried to kiss me. But I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to be passionate with this one.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Always with the what’s wrong. I should tell her everything.

  I slid off of her and walked out of the bedroom.

  “Your boyfriend got anything to drink around here?”

  “No, no drinking!”

  “What did I tell you about telling me what to do?”

  “Please, no drinking!”

  “What is it with you and me taking in alcohol? Why do you care so much? You don’t even know me.”

  “Please! Stop!”

  Inside one of the cabinets I found a blue label. An expensive drink. I took out a cup and ice from the freezer. It was a good drink. I usually stick to the cheap shit – it’s all the same for me. Each bottle does the same thing, gets me drunk. Hits my inside and my liver and I’m riding high on a wave of numbness. And this was a special drink. A full bottle just for me.