How To Succeed in Evil (11 page)

“No,” Edwin says, resisting the urge to gnash his teeth, “We will not hold anyone to ransom.”

“Well, why not? You’ve given me the power to make my dreams come true. Finally a country of my own. The Kingdom of Lower Alabama! We shall take New Orleans and West Florida. And from there we shall have an empire. Resplendent in the former glory of the South.”

Edwin pinches the bridge of his nose and summons his patience. “The reason we will not hold anyone to ransom is that, when you threaten someone with a destructive scheme, you must necessarily let them know your plan, and, thereby, grant them a chance to stop you.”

“Well then what am I to do with this newfound power to manipulate power?”

“I am glad you asked,” says Edwin, clinging to the thinnest thread of hope. Because Iphagenia has asked, perhaps she will listen. “You are going to buy a widespread set of calls throughout the economy. Refining, manufacturing, retail, information technology — any operation where a sudden, unpredictable disruption of power will cause a dramatic spike in costs. Then, when you flip the switch and the market chaos ensues, trillions of dollars of wealth will flow to you through fronts and dummy corporations.”

“Money? Money? What makes you think I want money? I’ve got more money than I know what to do with. I don’t need money. What I need is the Empire of Lower Alabama before me on bended knee. Show me how I can take over Alabama, Louisiana and West Florida.”

Edwin is very careful that his emotions do not register on his face. “Madame, I have labored for more days than I care to remember. I have presented you with a scheme that can easily make you the wealthiest woman in the world.”

“I told you, I don’t want money. I want control!”

“The easiest way to control something is to own it. And what’s the point in fighting for something, when you can simply buy it?”

“Silly boy, one cannot buy the hearts and minds of the people.” Edwin has no idea what Iphagenia is talking about. In his experience the sad truth of human nature is not that people can be bought, but that they can bought for so little. Iphagenia charges on, “One must conquer them! One must defend one’s territory with cunning and force and might. Glorious battle that offers the chance of gallantry and heroics!”

Later, Edwin will realize that it was the word gallantry that tore it for him. Now he just says, “Madame, if you are too stupid to recognize your own advantage, I simply cannot help you.”

Iphagenia presses her desiccated lips together and squints. “Mr. Windsor, I have shared my dream with you.” She blinks back tears of the purest distilled crazy. “And you sir, you have shat upon it. That is rude. Just very simply rude. And I am now upset.” Iphagenia waves her hand and a great number of slave boys surround Edwin.

“I am thankful that you have come to the soon-to-be Empire of Lower Alabama. For that has given us the chance to teach you some manners. Alabaster, we order that he be confined with the pigs. Let us see how
he
enjoys being shat upon.”

As they drag him away, Edwin asks Daniel, “You do realize that this is completely insane?”

“I see your lips moving,” says Daniel, “but all I hear is Harvard and Yale. Harvard and Yale.”

Edwin breathes out and lets himself be dragged. 

Chapter Seventeen 

Search Your Feelings

As a deeply theoretical man, Edwin has thought long and hard about hostage situations. Not only does he have clients to advise, but in his profession being taken hostage is bound to happen sooner or later. Key to Edwin’s thinking is the idea that negotiation is overrated. Anyone who thinks that kidnapping is a good idea is irrational. And, with an irrational person, a rational process, like negotiation, is chancy at best.

The way Edwin sees it, taking a person, or anything else, to eventually get money, is inefficient. If you want money, you should take money. But then if you want money, why steal? There are any number of ways to borrow money. Money can also be earned. Money can be obtained through fraud. As a general rule one should not steal money when in need of money. One should only steal when it is overwhelmingly convenient.

In fact, theft in itself is crude. A remnant of the time when barbarous populations rode across windswept plains to sack entire civilizations. Why go to the trouble of taking something when, with a little imagination and planning, you can convince your victim to give it to you? And the theft of a person is worst of all. People are difficult to transport. Difficult to keep in good condition. And, worst of all, when people are taken, irrational value is attached to them.

“Consider,” Edwin might say when explaining this to a client, “the most obnoxious child you have ever known. Perhaps you have been forced to endure the presence of such a creature at the lawn club luncheon or at a museum benefit. In the midst of your sorbet, you have surely thought, ‘I would pay handsomely to have that brat’s vocal chords removed, table-side, before the desert course.’

“And let us further posit that this is not merely a bad day for this child, but, in fact, he will undoubtedly grow to become the kind of unrestrained boor who laughs too hard at tasteless jokes and will one day beat his wife to death with a nine iron.

“All in all, this person is a benefit only to lawyers, and the apple of only his mother’s well-medicated eye. But if you kidnap this monster, at any point in his obnoxious life-cycle, the sympathy of untold millions will flow towards him. Even though society will be measurably better off without him. For this reason, kidnapping simply isn’t worth the feelings of righteous indignation it evokes among the herd.”

There are so very few truly workable criminal schemes. Edwin views all crimes as recipes. The right amount of this, the correct amount of that and, at the end, money. For all of his clients, Edwin tries to make sure that the amount of money at the end is far, far greater than the cost of the ingredients.

The costliest ingredient in kidnapping is secrecy. Not only do all of the conspirators have to keep quiet about the affair — a virtual impossibility, with more than two people involved — but they also have to maintain the secrecy of the hostage’s location. The entire scheme depends on it as a lever depends on its fulcrum.

So as he sits, shackled in the middle of a pig sty, Edwin has fewer worries than most people in his situation. He is being held at his last known location. And he knows that Agnes will call upon considerable resources to come to his aid. Not that she will have to. In this case, even a call to the local police might sort it out. Edwin smiles when he thinks of the logic of fighting incompetence with incompetence. So in this unusual circumstance, Edwin’s greatest worry is for his suit.

As Edwin was dragged away, he had hoped to have a chance to remove his jacket. But none came. He had been thrown into the sty. And while his landing had been soft, it was also incredibly filthy. Even as Edwin struggled to regain his feet, they had swarmed him and crushed him once again to the liquid filth. Edwin had pleaded with them, “Please. Please, spare the jacket.” But the mob did not listen. Even though he did not resist, several people had sat on him while they chained his feet.

After the initial violence Edwin had been left alone. The pigs, who had wisely retreated from the human foolishness, now inspect the newest member of their sty. They snort and nudge Edwin. They quickly deem him harmless and inedible and return to wallowing in the mud. Filthy animals, some would say, but Edwin recognizes the native intelligence of these beasts. Pigs do not have sweat glands. Edwin’s is not exactly sure how he knows this, but this odd bit of trivium explains a great deal. The cesspool where he finds himself confined is the pig’s air conditioning system. They cover themselves in mud to cool themselves, and protect their skin from sunburn.

Edwin squints at the sun. Sunburn will be a problem. As well as dehydration. Another, more survivally-minded man, would be covering his own delicate skin with mud right now. But Edwin does not descend to such behavior. He does not revert to the level of the savage. Better to die first, he thinks, than to give up what little dignity he has left. Edwin produces a spotless handkerchief from inside his jacket — a minor miracle, considering recent events — and cleans what filth he can from his face, hands and hair.

Edwin stands for as long as he is able, but eventually gravity pulls him down into the mud. The pigs wallow. Edwin broods. The sun moves across the sky. Edwin dozes as best he can while sitting up.

          *   *   *   *

“Oh my heavens. Mr. Windsor, bless your heart, you are a sight.”

Edwin opens his eyes and sees Iphagenia holding an absurd parasol over her head. Around her a retinue of slave boys fan their taffeta-wrapped queen. Edwin stands and straightens his ruined apparel as best he can, “Your hospitality, madam, leaves much to be desired.”

“Oh, Mr. Windsor, it is you who have rejected my hospitality with your horrific manners.”

“Whatever was I thinking?”

“Well, that’s what I came here to talk to you about. You see, I believe that you are meant for far better things than this.”

Edwin does not comment on the obvious.

“Do you regret your mistake of spurning me?” asks Iphagenia.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Oh, Edwin, do not play coy with me. Search your feelings. Surely my nobility calls out to you, as yours cries out to mine. Come to your senses, my dear, and I can remove you from this squalor. Elevate you to your proper station. You shall become my consort, one of several, it is true, but we shall rule the world together.”

Edwin had thought he was fully acquainted with all the ways that bad could go to worse, but at this moment he realizes he was mistaken. He clings to his professional demeanor. “While I do pride myself on thorough care of my clients, the arrangement you are suggesting is not a service I provide.”

“But search your feelings. You must admit that you are attracted to me?”

A wave of weariness ripples through Edwin’s legs. He looks long and hard at Iphagenia. On her forehead he sees a droplet of sweat extrude itself through the layers of make up and sludge its way downward. Edwin realizes, with no small amount of horror, that he is more attracted to the pigs. There is no nobility here. Only unrepentant lunacy. All of Edwin’s instincts recoil in horror. Still, he maintains control. He buttons the middle button on his suit jacket, draws himself to his full height and with great formality says, “No.”

Iphagenia says nothing. The scene is still. Even the slave boys pause in their endless fanning. She presses her lips together and gets a far off look in her eye. For a moment it seems that she might cry. But then her hand darts out. A whip makes sharp contact with bare flesh. A slave boy cries out in pain and then the fanning resumes. “You are a fool Edwin Windsor.” With that she turns and walks away, her absurd retinue following in her wake. All but one.

There, with a fresh lump on his forehead, is Eustace, still in the jester’s uniform. He hangs his head and arms over the fence and stares at Edwin. After a while he says, “Hey man, you’re covered in pig shit.”

Eustace sighs and hangs his head over the fence in what must be a gesture of surrender.

“So your mother has let you go,” says Edwin

“Yeah man, she’s busy with her ‘friends.’”

“I’m sure she is.”

“You know, I believed you, man.”

Like a shark smelling blood from miles away, Edwin senses weakness, leverage, an opening. “And you were right to. Your mother does not have half the control she imagines.”

“Aw man, that ain’t nothing but some bullshit. Momma got control. You said bad things about momma. Now momma got you too.” Edwin just smiles. “Man, why you smiling?” asks Eustace, “you ass deep in shit.”

“Your mother does not even have control of herself.”

“What’s that bullshit mean?”

“Eustace can’t understand,” says Edwin. Gently, he thinks. He must proceed gently.

“You calling me stupid?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that Dr. Loeb knows what I’m talking about.” Edwin hates himself a little for playing such an artless and obvious gambit. But there is no way to put a subtle move on a witless person. “Dr. Loeb understands what Eustace cannot. Ja, mein Herr?”

“Man, you crazy.”

Edwin stands. “I may be chained in the middle of a pit of filth. I may be exhausted. My patience might be wearing thin. But I assure you, my sanity is intact. You are clean, rested, possessed of no self-discipline and more surely a prisoner of your mother than I could ever be.”

Eustace looks away.

“So you have a choice to make. You may remain Eustace Eugene Reilly. Slave to your mother’s desires. Never having a life or will of your own—”

“But I like it here.”

“I’m sure that you do. It is comfortable. It is certain. Most of all, it is familiar. But you have a dream. A dream that you whispered to me in my office.”

“Domination?” Eustace whispers, fearful of even speaking the word.

“Domination. You want control. And I can help you get it. But first you must control yourself. You must help yourself. You must help me.”

“Ya’ll want me to run and go get you a gun?”

“No, I don’t need your help, Eustace. Eustace is weak. Eustace cannot even help himself. I need Dr. Loeb.”

“What?”

“EUSTACE YOU ARE WEAK!”

Eustace jumps back as if he has been slapped. For a moment, Edwin thinks he has overplayed. But Eustace settles back down on the fence. “Yeah man. I sure am,” Eustace admits. Edwin is still in the game.

“You are too weak to overcome your mother.”

“Yeah.”

“But the evil Doctor—” Edwin locks eyes with the awkward boy and says nothing. The moment stretches into a minute. The minute stretches into a time. Slowly, Eustace straightens.

“Ja.” Eustace says quietly

“He is strong.”

“Kampfkraft,” Eustace says a little louder. 

“Yes, yes, cunning”

“Ja, JA. That voman is OUTFRAGEOUS!”

“Yes. Now unlock these chains and we can begin.”

“You must promifse sometink first,” says Dr. Loeb.

This is good, thinks Edwin. Dr. Loeb senses weakness and is using it to bargain. Vicious, yet rational. It is the kind of thing that Edwin can twist to his advantage. But Edwin is in a horrible position to negotiate. “What is that, Herr Doctor?”