Waiting Period (18 page)

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Authors: Hubert Selby

BOOK: Waiting Period
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Or is it? Suppose I just go to the ‘club’ and hit it. Whatve I lost if it doesnt work? Anything? Well, I might be seen … yeah, possible. But if no damage done what would be the big deal? True, might be a big deal, but seems a lot better, for many reasons, than starting a forest fire. I dont know, feels right to just go to the object of all this. It worked the other times. Yeah, okay, I dont have to decide now. Sleep on it and see what I feel tomorrow. I/ll know. Just like always. Too wound up from reading about those bloodthirsty freaks. Calm down, I/ll know. Okay. Let it go. Tomorrow.

Well … another day another buck and a half. Birds really singing this morning … listen to those finches. Go for it-. Remember some little poem about a bird on a window sill singing and bringing up the sun and all that sort of thing and ends with the narrator saying he gently shut the window and crushed his rucking head. I am NOT a morning person. Guess maybe I am. Dont mind the birds singing. Sound good actually. Especially the mockingbirds. Theyll kick in soon. Sort of nice. Why would anyone want to crush a birds head? Theyre really kind of nice. Seems sort of gruesome and messy. Anyway, enough. No doubt theres no need to go testing a device, no matter how small. I/ll just go for it. Putting it together seems simple. Put together the ‘delivery device’ first … I like that, ‘delivery device’. Very official. Type up a little prospectus and submit it to the Defense Department. They may subsidize my endeavor. Shit, go to the CIA and theyll hire me. Yeah, for a while. Until I want to quit. No retirement with those bastards. Nothing like anonymity. Safest way to work. Okay, enough shilly shallying. Time to get to the garage and start making the crossbow.

Okay, lets see if I can hit the target … Whoa, this sucker is tough to load … Well, here goes … Wump, as they say in cartoons. Hmmm, could be worse … a lot worse I guess. Didnt get near where I was aiming … but all I have to do is get it through a doorway or window. Damn, this thing went a couple of inches into this board. Well, a little more practice and I/ll certainly be able to do whats needed. Yeah, better wrap something around the tip to see what that does. Lot of inherent dangers here. Have to wait until I have a clear shot, and certainly cant camp out in front waiting. And driving around with explosives … well, at least its a small amount. This crossbow must be the smallest one in captivity, and collapsible, easy enough to hide … pant leg, sleeve, wherever. Pretty simple and straightforward but still a possibility for problems. Not worried though. Not naive or complacent. Really done the research. Just have a positive sense about the project. Just as I did with the others. Somehow this is more exciting. More danger … from the target and the means. More cautious. Alter my appearance more. That would be wise. Look as Russian as possible. A lot to practice. Keep it simple. Little make-up. Hat. Coordinate schedule. New York, St Louis, New Orleans. Change of clothes. Appearance. Always aware. Always simple. Digital camera makes it easy. First finish with the ‘equipment’. Thank god for technology. Must look crude. Just like them. And senseless. Mr Chameleon. But not totally. Cant really be invisible. But I can look like what Im not. Who was that masked man? Your worst nightmare keemofuckinsabay Mr Clean is on his way. Clean up the dirt, the scum. Everything sparkling clean. Pick up a few pieces of clothing at Salvation Army. Thrift Shops. A piece here … there. No trail. No links. Just a little ol city boy caught in a redneck world. Exciting. Playing out a fantasy. Cops and robbers. Bang, bang, youre dead. I am not, you missed me. Bull shit! I gotya right between the eyes. No way, you missed by a mile … fuckin redneck.

Damn, this virtual relocation is pretty good. Cant get the specifics I need, but good idea of general layout. Yeah. Good sense of the town. Go through target area. Know all streets … their outlets. Synchronize all actions. Different appearance each time. Inconspicuous. Noticeable last couple of times. Same appearance … clothes. If questioned witnesses have ‘general’ impression. Looked Russian. Nobody will ever know what a great actor I am. Or planner. Or instigator …
Agent provocateur.
Maybe I should keep a diary? A log book. A record for the future. A memoir of services rendered. Tempting. Very tempting. Too foolish. Insane. Still, when all this is over … satisfying to be the evil genius behind everything. No one will ever know of my genius … as an actor, thinker, planner, as a power for good. Cant let the ego get in the way. Always give it all to Providence. That’s enough satisfaction. No manifesto. No diary. No explanation. Take it all to the grave. Oh, this is such a beautiful plan. And the execution will be flawless. Simplicity. Always keep it simple. Small wooden crossbow. Breaks down into a couple of small pieces. Plastique. Extra powdered magnesium for flash.

Ahhh, good to get home. Lot of roaming around. Yeah … very productive! Better log in and let them know Im back.

     Lets see how well I remember them. Quick sketch of all of them. Just cov—No. Details. All the details. All pov’s. No guess work. Every doorway. Alley. Yeah … that’s right, always a trash can here. Light pole away from corner in New Orleans. Little things. Sign in St Louis hides this corner. Little things = big picture …

Yeah, these drawings are just like the ones I made on the spot. Good. Remember all the details. Even graffiti on the dumpster. Very good. Im ready. Primed. Yeah, need to calm down. Easy does it … in and out … in and out … Work for a few days. Routine. Then … a.m. Coney Island, p.m. St Louis; next day, a.m. New Orleans. One, two, three. Boom, boom, boom. Smoke clears, action starts … reactions start. Coney Island Im Russian. St Louis, Italian. New Orleans, nondescript …

Yeah, we seen some guy, right, Joey?

Yeah, he was suspicious.

What exactly was he doing?

You know, kinda hanging aroun, suspicious like, right, Joey?

Yeah. Creepy sorta.

Creepy?

Yeah. Musta been a Russian.

Yeah, yeah. He was a Russian.

Back to my basic routine for a few days. Clear my mind. Relax. Must be alert. Each target has a vantage point, couple, where I can be unnoticed with my little bow. Only visible for a second. Then folded and hidden. If Im noticed it will add to deceit. Explosion will tumble images in peoples minds. Whatever they remember out of the ordinary will work to my advantage. Theyll be convinced its who I want them to see. Always massive confusion after an explosion. Keep the explosions down. Dont want too much … might get innocent people. The powdered magnesium will make a big flash, people cant see for a second. Oh well, enough. Time to eat. Then maybe a movie. Change of pace. Relax.

Is it not a thing of beauty to see a man he simple, thorough and straightforward and thus make the Heavens sing? Is it not a thing of beauty to see the man, nay, anyone, so totally focused on the proper completion of his task? Is not the meticulous attention to the finest detail as beautiful as a Renaissance painting … a Bach fugue? And is it not a thing of beauty to see all this combined with a courageous heart? See the ease with which he walks through airports, unrushed yet adhering to his schedule. Oh, such delight do I take in his very movements, his apparent nonchalance, his indifference to his surroundings, yet nothing is allowed to slip past his awareness. Can any father be more proud of his son? I think not, even though you go back to time immemorial there is no son more pleasing to his fathers eyes.

… I cant believe it. Im back. Cant believe it. Less than 48 hrs. Seems like weeks. Intense. Can feel it now. Starting to. Letting it go. Cold beer and a chair. Ahhhh … Oh that feels good. Hairy moments. Very. But nota hitch. All done. Boom! Boom! Boom! Just like that. One, two three. Oono, dosey, tracy. Yeah … They got the business. Feel like Ive been running for days. She looked right at me. Aiming. Mouth looked like a tunnel. Eyes bugged. Blinking. Disguise threw her. So did the explosion. Knocked me around too. Little miscalculation. Good thing I positioned myself around that corner. BaBoom! Yeah!!!! Bomb throwers must have been stunned. Yeah … Their club house will need repairs. Splintered, as the saying goes. Cant sit. Another beer will help. Get on line and see what theyre saying … see what the TV has to say …

‘ … and following up on the explosion on Mott Street Wednesday, the authorities announced that a check reveals that it was definitely not a gas leak but an explosive device of some sort that was responsible. The object apparently was the Italian/American Social Club which sustained enormous damage. Fortunately, none of the surrounding storefronts sustained more than slight damage. The five occupants of the club are still hospitalized. Hospital spokesperson said that Benjamin (Benny One Ball) Lazarno, and Louis (Luke the Spook) Nagarnno are in critical but stable condition—You have something new, Sally’

‘Yes, I do, Steve. Im here, at the site of the explosion, and there are two young boys who say they think they saw the man responsible. Here, tell us what you saw.’

‘Well, you know, we saw this guy—’

‘A real weirdo.’

‘Yeah, with this weird beard, you know?’

‘An it wasnt like, you know, one a those Hasidic guys.’

‘Right, he wasnt no Jew.’

‘No, he was a Russian.’

‘Yeah, he was blond and fuzzy like, you know. An he had an accent.’

‘Yeah.’

‘What did he say?’

‘I dont know, it was Russian, you know?’

‘So there you have it, Steve, an eye witness account.’

‘Thanks, Sally. I presume he didnt mean “Warm and Fuzzy”.’

‘That was awful, Steve.’

‘Sorry about that. In other news—’

Well … can you imagine that? They think it was a Russian. God, how easy to plant a seed and mis-lead. Lets see what we have from points west and south. Well, lets see whats going on in St Louis … Here we go …
BLAST KILLS ONE INJURES SIX
. Hmmm … explosive device … Social Club … okay, enough of that, what … okay, here we are … the deceased evidently was walking across the room when the blast occurred and must have been immediately on top of the device and taken the major force of the explosion, which literally tore his body into a dozen pieces—oh, thats nice—and so the others received serious, though relatively minor injuries. Well, well, well, talk about freaky events. Hell, hes a hero. Gave his life for his friends. What greater gift could he give than his life for his friends. Thats what I love about these guys, their undying sense of loyalty. All for one and one for all. Here, here. Pip, pip, and all that sort of rot. Rest In Peace brother, for all men are my brothers. Can a sparrow fall from the sky without a tear falling from my eye? Go in peace to your maker you slime-ball. Lets see what else … no, no mention of any other activity, no gang war … yet. Right. Key word: yet. Leave us take a look at our friends, our goombas, in Lousyana. Ah huh, here we go. Another kaboom. Oh, and a fire. An hour to put it out. Hey, 8 hospitalized here, 3 in very critical condition. Not certain they will live through the night. Yeah, why bother? Going to go belly up some day anyway, may just as well do it now. What the hell, youre already in the hospital. Why waste the trip? You went to all the trouble to get yourself blown up you may just as well go to the big Social Club in the sky. But its up to you Sylvester. Hey, if you want to live, more power to you. Wow, pretty good pictures. Must have been someone right there. Really clicked away. Concentrated on the building. Obviously not a pro. No shots of peoples expressions. There should be something in the story about a … up, here it is. A spectator and witness was hospitalized with extreme emotional trauma after informing the authorities that she saw the man responsible for the explosion and said he looked like Groucho Marx and was aiming a space weapon at the building. She said it looked like a ray gun made of some special material she had never seen before, probably from outer space. She continually referred to Grouchos nose and mustache … Ha ha ha, I knew it, I knew it. Nothing more subtle than being overly obvious. A real stroke of genius putting on those Groucho glasses with the nose and mustache. I almost froze when she walked around the corner, a one in a million, while I was aiming my little crossbow, but when she stared I just wrinkled my forehead and those monstrous eyebrows and said, ‘Say the magic word,’ and let go the bolt with the plastique. Kaboom. One in a million. Wrong place at the wrong time. Hope she recovers. Traumatic running into Groucho with a ray gun, all these years after he died. That will get you to give up drinking, or whatever youre doing. Maybe I should go visit her. Oh god, that would really destroy her … but Im telling you, doctor, Groucho was here yesterday. No, I shouldnt even think of things like that. I dont want her to have any troubles. Dont worry sweetheart, I wont send you any pictures of Groucho. Not even a signed 8x10 glossy. Alright, enough. Time to eat. Nuke some popcorn and open another beer. A night to be savored. Should be some more details tomorrow. Who knows, there might even be some retaliation in the offing. Who knows? The shadow do. Yeah, the shadow do do do. Oh god, how luxurious I feel. How providential, to coin a phrase. No, I feel festive. Thats what it is, festive. And celebratory. I am truly king of all I survey. Im on top of the world Ma. Yeah, he went kaboom too. But not yours truly. The closest thing to kaboom in my life is the popping of corn. Best thing is an old movie. Or Bugs Bunny or Rocky and Bullwinkle. We/ll see. Starting to feel a little tired now that Im unlaxing. Should have a good, restful sleep tonight. Tomorrow will be another beautiful day, with or without our feathered friends chirping. So, lets see whats happening on the oldies but goodies channel …

… ah yes, chirp, chirp, chirp … chirp away you feathered fiends. You must be what Beethoven heard during his walks through his beloved woods … yeah, until he went deaf. Wonder how long he was able to hear them? He certainly heard them in his head long after the death of his ears. But of course he did not have to worry about them leaving their calling card on a newly washed and waxed car … with the Amorall treatment. Guess there are no cats around, theyre not sounding disturbed. So sing on, but remember I put in a good word for you with the neighborhood cats so leave that blue Lexus alone, okay? Oh, the day feels good. Time to eat. Yeah … breakfast, a walk to that bench, and sit and listen to the birds and read the paper. Yeah, thats a good one, never thought of that, but the newspaper is like an updated carrier pigeon. Communication. Always the most important thing on earth. Rothschilds realized a fortune because they knew of Napoleons defeat before the English government. Drums, smoke, screeching, pigeons, teletype, radio, whatever, we/re no better off than when we were banging a couple of sticks together. We can get information back and forth almost instantly but it doesnt stop the slaughter. So whats the point??? making more money? We have information coming out of our asses and we still cant communicate. Oh well, no longer a concern of mine. I communicate efficiently enough for me. Yeah, it is a shame I cant communicate this to someone, but such is life. At least I know the right people are getting the message. Hey, thats pretty good. Well, time to perambulate, eat, then read. Wonder if the redhead will be working. Seems like months since Ive been there. Cant remember what shift she has. Actually, dont know if they always have the same shift. Probably rotate. Well, anyway, a little food will go just fine. Time to join the birds and start the day with a song, even when things go wrong …

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