It made no difference that I’d regained some of my composure, I was still snafu. How was I going to get out of this trap? I took my old ski mask to hide my face from him and went downstairs. He must have been staring at the door, because his gaze jumped on me as soon as I opened it. He rolled a pair of frantic eyes when he saw me. I came over to him and in one go tore off the tape covering his mouth.
It was as though I’d uncorked a bottle, because he instantly began to shout.
“Where am I? Who are you? What am I doing here? What do you want? How long have I been here? Untie me, I beg you, I’m in agony in this chair. Let me go, I’ll give you everything I have…”
I said nothing, because I didn’t quite know what to say to him. Instead I played back the news bulletin, which I’d taped on the little recorder that Taurus uses to dispatch orders to his secretaries. The more he heard, the wider his eyes grew. When the tape stopped he simply asked me if this was serious. I nodded yes. He seemed to cave in, but the way he was tied up it was hard to tell.
“Why?” he asked me again, this time in a barely audible voice.
I wasn’t about to tell him it was a mistake, that I’d thought he was American and all that. I’d have looked ridiculous.
“Because you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” I finally answered. “Because you’re the CEO of a corporation that takes part in beating the brains out of some poor people who’ve done you no harm and who’re too far away to defend themselves against you. They need a hand, otherwise there really would be no justice and everyone who was helpless to do something about it would lose hope. ’ve got nothing against you. It’s not my fault you’re the head of United Motors.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“If I knew, things would be simpler, mister. I guess it depends on what happens.”
My response didn’t seem to particularly reassure him. In the meantime, I couldn’t leave him permanently tied to the chair. He had to eat and go to the John from time to time since I didn’t want him to turn the place into a pigsty. I’d had time to think all this over before coming home. Luckily, Taurus owned a cage where he used to keep his guard dogs when travelling from one construction site to another and which he stored in his basement workshop, the adjacent room. It was quite cramped but would certainly be better than an ordinary straight-backed chair.
I left the CEO in his chair while I prepared his new lodging. I opened the cage and fitted it out with a few pillows and a blanket for comfort, and a bucket for his bodily needs. The cage was two metres square and slightly more than a metre and a half high. He wouldn’t be able to stand up, but he could relax a little. At any rate, there would be nothing for him to do but bide his time. I went back to get him and untied him from the chair, but without freeing his hands and feet, so that he wouldn’t try anything. He was so stiff he had trouble staying on his feet. I helped him hop over to the cage, warning him that if he gave me a hard time things would get bad for him. When he saw the accommodations I had in mind for him, he squawked, but with a few swift kicks to the butt I made him understand that he had no choice, that things were complicated enough already, that I was pretty nervous and that I didn’t feel like being messed with. I must have been especially convincing, because he went inside the cage by himself, on all fours. I closed the door and padlocked it before goingback upstairs, where I poured him a large glass of milk mixed with the powder Virgo uses in her slimming diets and of which there are tons in one of the kitchen cabinets, making very sure to stir in three Halcions. That would calm him down, and me too. I added a hasty ham sandwich, and it pissed me off to think that I would have to cook for him as well, whereas I already had enough trouble doing it for myself.
When I returned downstairs to bring him his chow, he was stretched out at the back of the cage, because that was all he could do, and he was snivelling. I asked him to place his wrists, then his ankles, closer to the bars, and I cut the restraints with a kitchen knife. After that, I gave him the milk and the sandwich, and I had pity on him seeing him like that, lying there like a wild animal in his cell. So I thought a little about the Vietnamese, and I felt better.
“Don’t worry too much,” I told him before going back upstairs. “There’s bound to be a solution. I’ll come back to see you later. By the way, it’s useless to scream, there’s no one but me in this house and the basement is soundproof.”
This was the first time I’d ever played the jailer, and I thought I was doing a pretty good job. I went by the fridge and prepared myself a big snort of mescaline before dropping onto the living-room couch in front of the TV.
I was obsessed by my CEO. It bugged me no end that he wasn’t American. But what was done was done, and I had to make do with the situation. We’re very resourceful in my family. But it wasn’t just him. I was obsessed by Anna just as much. I really couldn’t wait for her to show me what to do with her body. Christ, what a hell of a life.
1.Mouvement de solidante envers le peuple vietnamien (MSVP)
Chapter Six
Phu Bai, 68-69
Water? Never touch the stuff. Fish fuck in it.
Inscription on a Zippo lighter,
Unknown G.I.
Allie Buy is rutting like nobody’s business. There’s rut written all over him, that’s how bad he’s got it.
It’s hard to bear and it’s not subtle. What’s more, Allie Buy is frustrated and testy to the nth degree. That’s because he hasn’t found anyone so far to take care of his rut, because his Corvette hasn’t seduced anyone so far this week. The women are tired of his Corvette.
Allie Buy is at a loss as to how to convince one of them to help him nurse his rut. He says he’ll get a new car, that his Corvette is worn out, that it isn’t as perky as before, that its metallic blue body has lost its lustre. He thinks he’ll opt for some British charm, some English phlegm. He’s seriously considering trading in his American Corvette for an English Jaguar because there’s something lighter, more airborne about it, and it performs better and all that.
Allie Buy gives Anna Purna a few lewd looks and smiles at her with a mouthful of yellow teeth. He’s trying to harvest the fruits of his automotive seduction. His eyes are blinking like headlight signals. As for Anna, she has the annoyed expression of a harried dog. Anna does not like cats.
Allie Buy has missed the mark. This infuriates him. Oscar and me are jubilant, we stamp our feet, we firmly but quietly elbow each other in the ribs as we stifle our laughter. Allie Buy gets up. He says he has to leave, he has an appointment with the auto dealer to pick the colour of his new car. He goes away, abashed and congested, with his rut between his legs.
He passes in front of Rag Bag, who takes advantage of this to collar him. She asks him to give her a lift. He answers that he doesn’t have time, that he’s in an awful rush. As he runs out of the Catalpa, he kicks the trash cans, which have done him no harm.
I’m so glad Anna sent him packing, the big turd. It’s a balm on my soul, which I’m convinced I don’t have. The mere thought of her touching that slimebag’s dick turns my stomach completely inside out. Now, I know if I were a woman the only effect Allie Buy would have on me would be to make me nauseous. Just imagining myself a woman with him on top of me would be enough to make some shrink wealthy for a couple of decades. So, to imagine him doing filthy things with Anna, who’s much more beautiful than me as a woman – which is why I prefer her to myself – drives me so crazy I can’t remember how to breathe