“You are nuts, do you know that?” he finally said.
He lowered the pistol; apparently I was safe for the moment. I disliked having a weapon pointed at me. It was always preferable to do the pointing at instead.
“There are worse things than being dead for a little while Denny, you could, after all, be dead forever.”
He gaped at me, shock written all over his face. As a conman, things took a particular but predictable turn for him. You got people to trust you, rob them blind and got away before they realized what was going on.
“I have disappeared before, won’t that be enough?” he asked.
I shook my head, “No Denny, not even a little bit. We will find you, and someone somewhere will have a bug up their ass if this doesn’t end definitively.”
He got up and stalked his office, four steps to the bookcase and turn, four steps to the couch. Up and down he walked, faster and faster. I let him be, the man had some serious problems to ponder. I knew where to get the right drugs to simulate his death; it was just a question of how far we went to make it convincing enough.
Did we try to simulate something natural, like a heart attack or go exotic? Exotic would be definitive, the coroner would probably take one look and declare him dead and he would be off to the morgue. Natural was easiest, though, and no damage to the “body” was needed, and he wouldn’t have to spend time healing up after the fact.
I was certain Denny would choose that, generally people in hiding shied away from broken bones. It was a bitch to heal up while you were in hiding, and the potential for running was high. The drugs were the same either way, though; I stood up to get my phone.
Denny swung around to face me; pistol pointed at my heart. I raised my hands to show that they were still empty.
“Relax Denny, just getting my phone. I need to make arrangement for drugs to simulate your death.”
His hand dropped down to his side; his face was a horrible color. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder; I could feel him shaking.
“Calm down, I don’t want you to die of a heart attack before we can kill you off.”
I turned away from him and got my mobile from my bag. I flicked through the numbers and cycled between two. The one owed me a favour and would grudgingly give me what I needed; the other would take my money and ask no questions.
“How much money do you have in the office?”
He waved the pistol around nonchalantly; he had become unhinged. I was glad to notice though that the safety was in place. Eventually, he regained some of his senses and indicated the desk.
“The top drawer has a hidden compartment; there is five grand in there. Is that enough? I am sure I can get more if you need it.”
“That should do nicely, thank you.”
I walked around his desk and sat down in the leather chair, and it was a comfortable fit. I opened the drawer and removed the top layer; it wasn’t a huge compartment, just big enough for some strategically lined up bills.
Five thousand just as Denny said there was, my second choice would be appreciative of this fee. I sent him a text requesting a meet and a special delivery of ‘peaceful sleep’. I hoped he still used the same code phrases; the man was an eccentric that often changed things up just because he felt like it.
It made sense of a sort, though; he wouldn’t want the authorities to catch on to what he was doing. Possibly they already knew and just didn’t care, his was, in general, a petty set of crimes. As far as they could understand, and the authorities really didn’t.
Ethan Lex catered to my particular set, the community of immortals that often had to disappear from the public eye. To facilitate these disappearances our community resorted to drugs that simulated death and usually resorted to exotic or unusual feigned deaths.
The older ones didn’t worry about healing up in hiding, healing up gave them time to get appropriately forgotten by others. And when they re-emerged, healed and forgotten, they picked up lives very close to what they left behind.
Often in communities close to where they had “died” and no one was ever the wiser. I didn’t have to worry about faking my death again for a while still, the first time around people just assumed I ran away and died of old age elsewhere.
Currently, I was so busy travelling for my indentured service that I have no community that would wonder why I wasn’t ageing. Of course, I would love to settle down somewhere at some point and just pursue a hobby that didn’t involve inserting something into my brain.
My phone vibrated gently on the surface of Denny’s desk, Ethan had understood and was offering to meet me. Even for being in the city the meet was a major drive away, so no time to lose. I got up and stood in Denny’s path, he was still pacing up and down and had added mumbling under his breath to the exercise.
“Ok, Denny I have it arranged. Time to go for a drive, where are you parked?”
“I need to make some arrangements first; I need to move some things over to set up a new life.”
“There is no time for that Denny; you can’t take anything with you. It would look suspicious, and we want them to believe you are dead, remember?”
Defeated, he sank onto the couch and hung his head between his legs. It had turned into an awful day for him, and it was soon to get worse. I gave him a few moments to regain his composure; I wasn’t completely heartless.
“Come on Denny, let’s get going. Lots need to happen before day’s end and your peaceful sleep.”
He snorted in disgust and dropped his gun on the table, apparently no need to protect the finish any longer. Disconsolately he looked around a few times, taking in his surroundings. I hadn’t considered where his eternal rest would take place; the office would have been the right place.
Except of course his secretary would remember me and would probably happily describe me to the cops. It was going to be a pain in the ass. Home perhaps? Maybe safely tucked into bed, nightcap by his side, or was that too old school?
I was getting sidetracked, though; it needed to be fancy and exotic, a little show for the manufacturers. I was certain Denny would also not like the idea of healing up from a temperature gauge to the liver. Best if the coroner took one look and declared him dead.
Usually, the coroner would take a reading to verify time of death but if it were suitably horrible, they would just cart the body off. It was easier to deal with the time of death from the comfort of the morgue.
After a moment he slapped the table, I sighed inwardly, it was going to be such a long day. I moved forward to try and shake him out of his mood, but he straightened his back and got up.
He looked me in the eye and squared his shoulders; focus and determination filled his gaze.
“Let’s get to it then, I am ready to die.”