The veterinarian almost fell out of his seat when his cell phone rang. The clowns eyeballed him as he fumbled through his pockets to get to his phone. It was his wife.
“Damn it…”
His wife didn’t know he was there. If she found out he’d agreed to do a job for Don Bozo and put himself in such a dangerous position she’d probably strangle him to death. He wanted to reject the call, but he knew if he did that she’d be suspicious. He had no other choice.
“Do you mind if I take this?” Earl asked.
The clowns didn’t answer. They went back to what they were doing, stacking and shuffling cards. Earl stood from his seat and stepped away from the table.
He calmed himself, took a couple of deep breaths, and tried to sound natural as he answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Earl?” Something was wrong. Her voice was frantic. She seemed to be crying.
“Laurie?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer. It sounded like she dropped the phone.
“Laurie?”
“Mr. Berryman?” It was a man with a deep French accent.
“Who is this?”
“Listen carefully if you ever want to see your wife and kids again,” said the Frenchman.
It felt like a fist squeezed its way into Earl’s guts as he heard the man’s voice. “What’s going on?”
“Calm down,” said the Frenchman. “Pretend like you’re having a casual conversation with your wife. Ask her about her day.”
“What?”
“Say How is your day?”
Earl didn’t know how to react to the man giving orders. He saw the two clowns at the table looking over at him. They could tell something was up.
“How is your day?” Earl said, trying to ignore the clowns as they eyeballed him.
“Not very convincing. You’ll have to do better.”
Earl stepped farther away from the table. In a whispering tone, he asked, “What’s this all about?”
“Don’t speak. Just listen. I need you to do a favor for me. It’s not going to be easy, but the lives of your wife and kids depend on you succeeding at this task. If you understand me, say What are we having for dinner tonight?”
Earl complied. He used the same tone of voice he would use while talking to Laurie. “What are we having for dinner tonight?”
“Good, you’re catching on,” said the Frenchman. “Now, this is going to come as a shock to you, but you must remain calm. If you think you can handle that, say Mmmm, blanquette de veau is my favorite.”
“What the hell is blanquette de veau?”
“Never mind. Just say That sounds delicious.”
“That sounds delicious.”
“We know you’re just a veterinarian there to perform an operation on the circus lion. We know this means you’ll be getting very close to Don Bozo. That’s why we chose you. He’ll never see it coming from a guy like you.”
“You don’t want me to…”
“I told you to remain calm. Don’t say anything that I don’t tell you to say. But you’re right. We want you to kill Bozo.”
“But…but how could I…”
“Don’t speak. I’ll tell you how. If you follow my instructions you’ll be able to succeed at this task and your family will live. In your possession you should have a large dose of sodium thiopental intended for the lion’s anesthesia. If I am correct, say What do you want for dessert? I’ll pick it up on the way home.”
“What do you want for dessert?” Earl didn’t bother saying the rest.
“The first chance you get, I want you to inject Bozo with the stuff. It’ll be enough to put him into a coma, then he’ll die in his sleep. Use your phone to take a picture of his body and send it to me. Then figure a way out of there. If you understand, say I’ll see you tonight.”
Earl didn’t say it.
“Say I’ll see you tonight.”
Earl looked behind him. Captain Spotty was leading a group of three clowns into the auditorium toward him. He wasn’t sure if any of them was the boss.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Earl said.
“When we get the picture, we’ll let your family go,” said the Frenchman. “You have one hour. Say I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Berryman. I really am. If we were able to get close enough to Don Bozo we would have done it ourselves. But he’s just too well protected. It’s in your hands now. Remember, if you ever want to see your wife and children again, Don Bozo has to die.”
Earl watched the clowns as they came toward him. None of the guys with Spotty were the boss. They were the boss’s bodyguards. Large clowns the size of bodybuilders, armed with .38s and caramel apples. Even if Earl succeeded in killing Bozo, there was no way he was getting out of there alive. The boss’s men would take him down before he got ten feet to the door. He was beyond fucked.
The Frenchman said, “Say Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” he said, but the Frenchman was already gone. Earl was on his own.