Chapter 29

29

Jonathan

Thomas calls me again while Eva is out. I answer to distract myself. I should have known better.

"Do you have a death wish?" he demands. Shit.

I keep my eyes on the path Eva disappeared down. I lower my voice, even though I am alone in the restaurant. Louisa and Gestalt could be back with the bill anytime. "That's kind of a personal question, don't you think?"

"Do you think this is funny?" I am not laughing.

"I'm going to need you to elaborate," I say tersely.

"You were supposed to kill the man in his office," Thomas says. "That was the job."

"It felt a little stale—"

"What. The. Fuck."

"?‘Arc de Triomphe' is short for ‘Triumphal Arch of the Star.' It's a metaphor."

"Murder is not a metaphor."

Gestalt reappears with the bill. "Can we talk about this later?" I ask Thomas. "I'm at a restaurant."

Thomas ignores my request. "You do realize that if you get caught, the whole network could collapse and you would be out of a job."

"I was careful," I say. That is not true. I was not careful; I was compelled. I was compulsive and out of control and I could not stop myself.

"They're not gonna pay you for this," Thomas says as I am handing Gestalt my credit card.

"Now, hold on—that's not fair."

"Tell that to the guy scraping a body off of your metaphor," he says. I flinch.

Gestalt is hovering over me. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you," I answer in French. "Everything was perfect." I smile persistently at him until he disappears into the back of the restaurant to run my card. Then I return to Thomas, dropping my voice to a hiss. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to convince a complete stranger to drive you to a busy intersection at five in the morning?"

It was actually not that hard. I knew the mark was a coke addict, so I showed up at his office and pretended I was there to supply his business partner, who I knew would not be there. The mark offered to call him, but I said this was a drug deal and I did not want to leave a paper trail. The easiest way to cover a crime is with another crime. I said it was too bad; it was really good coke, but I needed someone to drive me and pay the dealer. The mark volunteered. Most drugs users are as addicted to the danger and chaos of scoring as they are to the actual drug.

As we were approaching that most hazardous intersection, I told him, "It'll be over quick. You'll be gone before you even feel pain."

He started to say, "What?" I unfastened his seat belt, stepped over the console and onto the gas pedal, and when we hit, I helped him into the window.

"The Arc de Triomphe is one of the most treacherous intersections in Europe," I tell Thomas now. "You have to pay extra for car insurance to cover you in just that single location. No one is going to ask questions."

"You were spotted fleeing the scene," Thomas says.

"I didn't flee; I walked. Do you think someone is going to identify me? I don't have an identity," I say. "Besides, I wasn't driving the car. I'm a victim, if anything. No one will care."

Through the restaurant windows, I see Eva exit the park. She waits to cross the street.

"It's not your job to construct the hit," Thomas reminds me.

"I went above and beyond. They ought to pay me extra."

"That's not how it works."

She starts to cross the street.

"Thomas, I'm going to have to let you go. I'm on a date."

"You had better be jok—"

I hang up the phone. The last thing I need right now is for my handler to get into my head.

I do not think about murders after I commit them. If I did, I would not be able to keep killing. If I stopped, if I slowed down, I could drown in all the terrible things I have done.

Tonight, I have better things to do.