The Jigsaw Man (5 page)

tiling that mattered to guys like him. Speaking of money,

they knew I was homeless and didn't have a nickel-*-

making me rich probably meant forking over two or

three thousand bucks. That wouldn't do me any good.

Wouldn't do my daughter any good, either. Sure, I

could live it up for a few months, but then it would be

right back to where I was now. And what about that

helping the doctor out with his research part? What

the hell did that mean? Did they want to sign me on as

a human guinea pig? Maybe inject my balls with radio

active soap bubbles to see how big testicles can swell

before exploding? N o , I didn't like the way this was

shaping up one bit but I'd come this far. I may as well

hear the rest.

"And what does Dr. Marshall want from me, exactly?"

Drake set his scotch down again and looked me

straight in the eye. In a hushed tone, almost a whisper,

he said, "He wants your right arm."

For a second, I thought he was joking again, but some

thing in his eyes and the set of his shoulders and jaw

tipped me off that he was indeed serious.

"He wants
WHAT}"
I screamed, suddenly angry

with myself for getting involved in this nonsense. "Stop

the car, Drake. IVe heard enough of your bullshit. You

can tell Dr. Bigbucks he can go straight to Hell. Just

because I'm homeless, dirty, and sometimes eat out of

trash cans, it doesn't make me an animal he can play

with in his sick twisted little experiments. Fuck bim,

and for that matter, fuck you too. You come down to

the slums in this fancy car looking for an easy mark.

Well, start looking elsewhere because I'm out of here.

Now stop the goddamned car!"

I wasn't in much of a position to be making threats

and I was worried I'd gone too far. There was no doubt

this huge man could easily snap my spine in two like

a twigbut screw it, I was mad. Fortunately, I>rake re

mained perfectly calm throughout my little tirade, wait

ing patiently until I was finished before responding.

"Whatever, Mike. I told you from the start the choice

was yours and you weren't under any obligation what

soever,"

He made the same tapping gesture on the glass di

vider as earlier and the limousine driver pulled over to

the gravel shoulder and stopped the car. Drake reached

over and opened the door for me, then sat back to allow

me passage.

"You sure about this, Mike?" he asked. "You're toss

ing away a lot of money."

"I'm sure all right. He wants my
arm?
You've got to

be out of your mind! Where's the other two hundred

bucks you promised me for listening to this crap?"

Drake gave me a coy little smirk, meaning either he

was laughing at me or perhaps respecting my pathetic

display of bravado. Either way, he reached for his bill

fold and peeled off two more hundreds. He crumpled

them up in a ball like garbage-—chump change he'd called

it—and slapped them into my hand. Pocketing the

money, I quickly shuffled across the seat, headed for

the door.

I fully expected Drake to stop me before I made it

out of the car. His large baseball mitt of a hand would

roughly grab me by the shoulder and he'd yank me back

ward onto the floor. Hovering above me, he'd scream,

"You're not going anywhere, mister. We want your arm

and I damn well mean to take it right here, right now!"

Drake would then put his shiny size-twelve dress shoes

onto the center of my chest and rip my arm off with his

bare hands.

Nbne

to shake die image of my blood spraying all over the nice

new carpet until I was safely clear of the limo and stand

ing on the sidewalk. Having paid no attention to where

the driver had taken us, I wasn't exactly sure where I was,

but it was no big deal. I could just walk until I came to a

main intersection, one I recognized, and then find my

way back to Carver Street easy enough.

Already trying to put this nasty episode behind me, I

started planning how Blue J and I could go out on the

town tonight first class with the fburbig bills in my

pocket. If all went well, Fd be wined, dined, and drunk

out of my mind just in time to play chicken with my

freight train returning from Rochester in about eleven

and a half hours. My feet had just started heading for

home when Drake stuck his massive head out of the

limousine's door and said something that stopped me

before I'd taken my fourth step.

"No hard feelings, Mike?" he said. "Believe it or not,

I give you a lot of credit. It's not every day you meet a

guy with enough balls to just get up and walk away

from two million dollars."

Two million dollars?

Two
MILLION dollars?

Had I really heard Drake say that? No way, it had to

be a mistake, or possibly another joke. Then again,

Drake had said his employer was filthy rich. Maybe—

TWO, MILLION, DOLLARS?

The number was so staggeringly immense, when I

tried to visualize it, all the zeroes kept ricocheting

painfully back and forth through my brain like the metal

spheres in an arcade pinball machine. I was rooted to

the sidewalk, unable to resume walking, but deathly

afraid to turn back around. Instinctively, I sensed that

if I"turned around to listen to any more of this mad

ness, I'd be sunk for sure.

Just walk away Mike. Get out of here,
I warned myself,

but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. How could I justify

leaving behind that kind of money? Think of every

thing I could buy. The places I could visit and the things

I could do with a stash like that—right arm or no right

arm. Think about Arlene. Man, that twenty-five grand

insurance policy was nothing compared to this. If I

played my cards right, maybe I could get back together

with her, actually be a part of her life again.

Easy fella. Don't get carried away. It'll never happen.

Still, it
could
happen. Couldn't it? What's that old

saying? Damned if I do and damned if I don't. That

pretty much summed up how I felt.

Eventually I did turn to face the limo again. If I was,

going to be damned,.I may as well be rich, right? Drake

was trying his best not to let his Cheshire-cat grin out

of the bag, but tactfulness obviously wasn't one of his

strong traits. He knew he had me right where he wanted,

playing the fool, thinking about the money.

"You heard me right,
Mihz.
Two million for your right

arm. If you'll just listen for a second, it's nowhere near as

sinister as it sounds. Nathan Marshall isn't some B-movie

mad scientist performing, as you so colorfully put it^ sick

twisted little experiments. He's a highly respected physi

cian for God's sake, a renowned medical researcher and

neurosurgeon. What did you think he was going to do,

chop off your arm with an axe while I held you down?"

As if from a great distance, I heard myself say, "I'm

not sure—" but my brain felt detached from my mouth,

drifting elsewhere in a vision of me lying comfortably

in a lush green meadow, relaxing on a bed of two mil

lion one--dollar-bill blades of grass.

It felt strange, really weird, and so unlike me to day

dream like this. Drake was speaking to me again.

"What?" I asked.

"I said, come on back into the limo and let me explain

exactly how this deal would work. Come have another

drink, listen to
xhefull
story* then make your decision.

At the very least, we can give you a lift back home."

I didn't need a lift back home. What I needed was to

run far away from here as fast as my legs could carry

me, ibut damned if my feet didn't take a couple steps

back toward the open car door

Don't da it, Mike,
my practical side silently scolded.

Don't he a fool. Take the money you've already pocketed and

bead for the bills. Go out and live it up with Blue J like you'd

planned, and forget all about this crazy offer. He's talking

about cutting off.your arm, your motherfucking arm, man!

Wake up and get out of here\

But hey, Fox, think about all that money,
the greedy

part of my conscience shot back.
Think ofeverything you

could have with that kind of dough, not the least of which is

your daughter maybe loving you again. The possibilities,

Fox> just think of the possibilities!

And I was.

There was no use denying it. No matter how hard I

tried, and no matter how fueked up this whole scenario

was, I couldn't stop thinking about how much money

was at stake.

Visions of sprawling houses, cobalt blue pools, tennis

courts, luxury cars, vacations in Europe, and beautiful

long-legged women all flashed before my eyes. Before I

could stop myself, I was climbing into the backseat of

the limo for a second time and accepting another glass>

of single malt scotch;

Drake tapped on the divider and the driver had us on

our way again. "Good man," he applauded me.

"Now let me explain this properly, so it's not so much

of a shock. It*s true Dr. Marshall wants to remove your

right arm, but he won't just hack it off Like I said earlier,

he's a world-class surgeon. He's working on damaged

nerve regeneration. Don't ask me to go into the specifics

because I haven?t got a clue. Dr. Marshall will explain ev

erything when you meet him. All I can say is that a long

time ago, he progressed as far as he could go in his re

search, using test animals and computer simulations. He

needs to test out his advanced theories using Hve human

subjects. Themedical community would never allow this

type of thing, of course, which is precisely the reason Dr.

Marshall funds his own research. Although this might be

frowned upon, that doesn't make it illegal You have every

right to donate your arm to medical science, just as he has

every right to compensate you for your trouble. People do

it all the time. All over the country people are selling part

of their livers, or one of their kidneys, and they're getting

compensated for it. Why shouldn't you?"

I sat rigid as a stone, not even sipping my expensive

scotch. I'd heard the stories of people selling their kid

neys for big bucks but hadn't really thought much about

it. This wasn't that much different, was it? I wasn't com

pletely convinced it was legal, but who really cared? Dr.

Marshall wouldn't be calling the cops to report me;

that was for sure. By the time anyone found out, if ever,

Arlene and I'd be nestled away on some warm tropical

island somewhere.

"Where and when would all this happen, if, and I do

mean
if
I decided to go through with it?"

"This weekend. You'll be brought to his private medi

cal center about three hours from here, where you'll

meet Dr. Marshall and his top-notch medical staff. You'll

get a tour of the facility and have a chance to ask any and

all questions you have before giving your final consent.

The money will be wired into a bank account for you

and you'll receive confirmation of its deposit before the

operation begins. The operation itself I'm told is simple,

a couple of hours, tops. You won't feel a thing.

"After it's over^ you'll be eared for and pampered for

as long as it takes your wound to properly heal. About

the worst thing you have to worry about will be fevers

and the risk of infection, but the doctors and nurses will