Promise Me Eternity (6 page)

“When the roses start blooming, it’s the
loveliest time of the year, don’t you think so, Edna?” He said this
to her with a half-concealed smile.

Edna Weiss picked up her cup of tea and
lifted it slowly to her mouth, afraid of scorching herself.

They had been chatting for over half an hour
when Edna stood up and wished Dr. Patterson a nice evening. She
knew his wife would be getting home soon and preferred not to see
her.

Simon sat outside a little longer, enjoying
the quiet late afternoon which was slowly changing into evening. A
gentle breeze blew through the yard, making the small leaves on the
rosebushes rotate on their axes. He watched a black bumblebee light
on a rose and insert its proboscis inside the blossom; the bee’s
little legs were covered in yellow pollen.

His right hand brushed his wristwatch. As if
he had been jabbed in the ribs, he leaped up and dashed into the
house. Realizing that Helen would be home at any moment, he hurried
down to the basement. Simon was ashamed of what he was doing but it
was the only way to avoid a fight. Helen, he knew, was most
irritable right after work. She was constantly complaining about
how stressful it was working with her clients. In this regard Simon
had it easy; his clients were always unconscious.

He sat on his favorite revolving chair and
gave Dorothy a worried look. The rabbit was jumping up and down in
her cage to show how happy she was to see him. Delighted, he
brought out a fresh carrot and offered it to her. When he saw how
eagerly she took it, he was visibly relieved.

“Clearly, those vitamins helped you,” he
said. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”

He looked with satisfaction over at the three
rats on which he had first tested his antiaging vaccine. At first
glance they appeared healthy. He gave them a little food and
changed their water. He had expected one of them to be afraid of
him and let out its usual squeaks, but nothing like that
happened.

He blew air through his pressed lips, making
a kind of burble. “You’re finally getting used to me,” he said to
the rat.

Then he opened Dorothy’s cage, gathered her
up gently, and pulled her out. As he reviewed his notes, he let her
sit in his lap and all the while scratched the back of her neck. He
thought about how near he was to his goal and how he’d be able to
help others. From then on, he promised himself, everything would be
different. People would live a lot longer than ever before.
Schoolchildren everywhere would learn about him in history
books.

After he put the rabbit back in her cage he
was upset to see that his hands were covered in white fur. He
closed the door to the cage and washed his hands in a nearby
sink.

When Helen heard the water running in the
pipes, she knew he was about to come up from the basement. She ran
over to the basement door, opened it, and cried out loudly,
“Siiimooon!”

Gritting his teeth, he answered, “Yes, dear?
Is it suppertime already?”

“No, but I want to talk to you.” She left the
door open so he could hear her rattling the pots in the kitchen.
Reluctantly, he climbed the stairs.

In the kitchen, she told him to sit down. “I
want to talk to you about our summer vacation.”

For weeks she had been listening to her
clients brag about how they were going this summer to Miami, the
Bahamas, the Dominican Republic, and other exotic places. All this
talk was getting to her.

“You want to talk about our summer vacation?
This is why you called me away from my important research? It’s
only May.”

“Now listen, Simon. Maybe it’s not important
to you. I know you’d just as soon stay home during your vacation
and do your precious research. But I have to know where we’re going
this summer.”

“Where would you like to go?” he asked. He’d
had enough of this.

She was glad he’d finally asked. She took the
coffee from the cabinet and put a couple of spoonfuls into the
water. Then she turned to face him. “This year I want us to take
our vacation at the Burj Al Arab hotel in Dubai. It’s got seven
stars. What do you think?”

Frustrated, he let out a high-pitched noise
and shook his head. “I’m OK with Dubai, but not with the seven-star
hotel. Do you have any idea how much that costs? We don’t have the
money—”

“Is this normal? I’m married to a brain
surgeon and I can’t even take a decent vacation once a year.” Her
tone had noticeably increased a notch in volume.

“Of course it’s normal, honey. I don’t know
how many times I’ve told you, but I am still paying off that loan I
took out when I bought the microscope. Besides, I’m still paying
off the two mortgages. So there’s not much left over from my
paycheck. We’ll have to wait until next year when—”

Her dark-blue eyes flashed daggers. “You’re
driving me crazy! Again with that microscope! I hate your
microscope. What good is that damn thing to me? Can you at least
tell me that?”

“Just be patient a little while longer. I’m
on the verge of a big discovery …”

She covered her ears with her hands. “I don’t
want to hear your excuses. I’m not getting any younger and I’d like
to get something out of life.”

He glared at her, but then looked down at the
floor. “Do you really have to bring this topic up now? My head
hurts and I have to go back to work later. I’m taking the night
shift again.”

“I’ve been putting up with this for years and
years, and now I’ve really had enough of it.”

“What have you had to put up with? What do
you mean, you’ve had enough?”

“I’m fed up with living off promises. I want
something real for a change. I want to have a decent vacation,
that’s all.”

He thought about how to get her off his back.
“OK, fine. We’ll work something out.”

“What do you mean, fine?”

“I mean I’ll give it some thought.”

The hard-edged look on her face disappeared.
“And when will you know for sure?”

“I have to look at the bank account and see
what money we have coming in. Maybe we can swing it. I should know
in a few days.”

“I’m really glad to hear that. Really.” She
looked at the light in the ceiling, then at him, and then went into
the bathroom.

Simon breathed a sigh of relief. He had
succeeded for now. The problem was that his bank account was so low
he couldn’t even dream of the kind of vacation she wanted. But this
he’d have to tell her another time.

Chapter 10

_______________________

A black limo almost twenty feet long pulled
onto a side road. Inside, three well-dressed men sat in silence.
The car was moving less than fifteen miles an hour, hampered by a
dense fog making it impossible to see ahead. Were it not for the
tall streetlamps on the right side of the road, the driver would
not have known where the edge of the pavement was.

At a certain point, the car stopped. As if by
agreement, the men all opened their doors at the same time.

“Where does this asshole live?” asked one of
the three, a tall man around fifty years old. He had a long face,
dark-brown hair, and piercing black eyes that were always on the
lookout.

“Down the road a bit, Carlo,” answered a
younger man with a goatee who went by the name of Jack.

“You can’t miss it,” said the third, a black
man, who was also young.

Carlo spit out the stub of his cigarette and
swore loudly. “Yeah, of course he can afford to have a beautiful
house since he’s been making money off me. He’s in for a surprise,
that damn son of a bitch.” He lit a fresh cigarette.

The two younger men walked behind him. After
a while one of them asked, “But shouldn’t we give him another
chance, boss? Seems to me he was serious last time.”

“No way. Five times now he’s cheated me.
Something about that guy gets on my nerves.”

“I only said it because earlier this month we
already took care of another guy who owes you money. I don’t know,
but it seems like a lot to me for one month. The cops might get
suspicious.”

Carlo’s black eyes shot through the man. “No
way, I said. I’m not going to let up when I’m being taken for a
fool!”

The three men marched in step, like
soldiers.

“Here it is, boss.” The man pointed at a
spacious yard bordered by a tall wire fence and dense, spiky
shrubs.

The black man tried to open the gate, but it
wouldn’t budge. “It’s no good, boss. The thing’s locked.”

Carlo shook his head in disgust, grabbed the
man’s shoulder, and shoved him aside. “You really are a wuss. Let
Jack do it.” He turned to the man with the goatee. “You’ve got
exactly two minutes.”

Jack smiled, sure of himself, and took out a
little container not unlike a woman’s manicure case. For some time,
he poked around in the lock with a narrow-pointed tool until at
last he heard that familiar click telling him the gate was
unlocked.

“Took long enough,” Carlo said, irritated. “I
think you might be a little out of practice.”

“I’ve never seen this kind of lock before,
boss. Sorry.”

Through the thick fog they walked up the
drive until they came to the elegant portico of the house.

“This isn’t too smart. Let’s go check it out
round the back,” Carlo said in a low voice.

The other two followed, looking constantly in
all directions.

“This door seems better to me.” They were at
the back of the house, in front of a pair of double doors that
separated the yard from the interior of the house. “Get it
open!”

With the help of his tools, Jack opened this
lock too, and in much less time than it had taken for the one on
the gate.

They cautiously went inside. The air was
thick with the smell of baked fish and oil.

Carlo Vucci made a face as his eyes sliced
through the room. He said to the other two, in an almost soundless
whisper, “I hate it when people cook fish in the house. That’s what
restaurants are for.”

From upstairs came the sound of a Beethoven
sonata. The two younger men smiled and waited to see what their
boss would tell them to do.

Carlo pointed to the stairs that led to the
second floor. “I bet you anything he’s up there screwing some
whore.” He spat his cigarette out on the floor. “And I bet he’s
paying her with my money.”

The closer they moved to the top of the
stairs, the more they could hear the sound of muffled moaning mixed
in with the piano music.

Carlo turned toward the other two. “What did
I tell you?”

The two younger men chuckled.

When they reached the room from which the
shrill sounds were coming, Carlo stopped and lit another
cigarette.

“Smoking’s a filthy habit. I know I should
quit,” he whispered to the two men. Then he grabbed the door handle
and stepped inside the darkened room.

A grotesquely obese man was lying on the bed
with his eyes closed, savoring his pleasure as a lively blonde
bounced up and down on top of him. This went on for a while, until
finally he opened his eyes and looked in horror at the dark figures
that had appeared in his bedroom out of nowhere. From the shock of
it all, his fat eyes bulged with incredulity and it looked as if he
was about to scream.

The woman, who had long, blonde wavy hair,
had her back to the uninvited guests and wasn’t aware of them.

Carlo Vucci casually took out his gun, which
was equipped with a silencer, and pointed it at the man’s piggish
face.

The man put up his hand as if he thought this
would protect him from the bullets, and screamed, “Please!
Noooo!”

The woman froze and opened her eyes. “What?
What did you say? Am I going too fast?”

Carlo smiled, lifted the revolver, and struck
the woman on the head. Without a single sound, she fell onto the
bed, then tumbled to the floor. She was lucky—if she had turned
around and seen them, her life wouldn’t have been worth a damn.

The fat man screwed up his face when he saw
her lying there on the floor, and right away pulled up a silk sheet
to cover his nakedness. He grabbed his head and started whining.
“Jesus, Carlo, what are you doing? I’ll give you back your money. I
promised you I would. Hold on, I’ve got it right here, in the next
room.”

Carlo Vucci looked at him in surprise. “What?
You have the money? So where is it?”

The man climbed out of the bed, tried to step
over the woman, but out of clumsiness his foot landed on her hand.
“Oops! I’m sorry, darling!”

With a concerned expression, he looked down
at her and said to Carlo, “You really didn’t have to hit her. I
don’t know what you were thinking, coming here to my house
uninvited like this, and all because of a little money.” With the
sheet wrapped around him, he waddled out of the room. “There’s no
reason for you to get so upset. I’m an honest man. You know
that.”

Vucci followed him. “Five times I’ve told you
to get me my money. I thought I made myself perfectly clear last
time, when I said what to expect if you didn’t give it back.”

The fat man nodded and even chuckled a couple
of times. “Sure, sure. But I had some problems. I didn’t have the
money until a little while ago. But I have it now.”

He opened the lid of a battered wooden chest
and bent over it, looking inside. As he did so, the sheet fell to
the floor so that they could all see his fat naked ass. Without
bothering to cover himself up, he rummaged through the chest, all
the way to the bottom, until he pulled out some yellow plastic
shopping bags filled with bound stacks of bills.

Jack said, “Wow, that’s a helluva lot of
money.”

“I think it should be enough to cover my
debt,” the moon-faced man said, and only now wrapped himself in the
sheet again.

Vucci stared at him in anger. “Why didn’t you
call and say you had the money?”