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Posted by The Spirit
on 7/20/2009, 4:39 pm, in reply to "Just another day, part 3: Old Friends"
69.47.233.55
“Jackie Morris… is dead?” Levinson looks up at me from his Corrinthian Leather chair, lip quivering, hand shaking, before he puts down the pistol. I lean back against the glass wall facing the hallway and tighten my tie.
“All due respect, sir, I just clobbered half a dozen of your goons to get here. The least you could give me is a little honesty.”
“I am many things, Mr. Spirit, and some would even say I am a liar, and they normally wouldn’t be wrong. But to lie about the death of a friend is a line I can’t cross.” He sets his pistol on his desk and points up at me, resting his elbow on the desk.
“Funny, from what I’ve read, the two of you were far from friendly.”
“We had,” Levinson’s eyes sink to the floor, “some bitterness between us, but he was still a friend to me, and that’s what matters.”
“You call basically enslaving him, stealing his ideas, and leaving him and Gusterman in the slums ‘some bitterness?’”
“You listen here, Mr. Spirit. I am not proud of the things I have done. But you have to realize,” He grabs a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wipes the sweat from his brow as he speaks, “You show me the man that wants to live in those slums, and I’ll show you a crazy man. Anyone in my position, anyone who saw the things they were making in that pharmacy, they’dve stolen them just as I did.” He sits in silence for a long time, slowly shaking his head. “He was like a son to me, y’know. I was such good friends with his dad… when he died, I sort of just took on Jackie as my own.”
“Yet again, funny way of showing it, Levinson.” I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows.
“Don’t I know it?” Not the reaction I expected, but… “Funny… after I bought out Morris and Gusterman, I did the same thing to who knows how many other people in how many other industries. But they were the only ones I ever felt bad about…” He stares at his desk. “Do you know what I told him the last time I saw him?”
“When was that?”
“Last night.” Got him. I kick off of the wall and ready my fists. “I told him to run. To make it look like someone stole the Apex formula, and to skip town. And I guess he did. Just… nowhere on this Earth.” I stop in my tracks.
“Wait, you knew that all along and didn’t tell me?” I push back my fedora and push my slacked jaw shut. That explains the locked door and the badly burglarized house. Morris did a hack job because he didn’t know what he was doing. But… “But why? Why not say anything sooner!? Why torture him for years and not repent the day before he’s murdered! What is going on anymore!?” I grab the office chair sitting in front of Levinson’s desk and collapse into it, hand on my forehead.
“I guess I just… wanted someone to hear my story.” Hubert Levinson, set against a sea of bright city lights, turned away from me in his big executive chair, he turned away and pressed his pistol to his temple and…
A few minutes later, I’m on the roof. Ambulances, police helicopters on their way. Can’t stop shaking. I can feel the paleness of my face. Rain is pouring again. I pull my coat tight, try and stay warm. I breathe deep and see my breath. The rain is so loud and thick I don’t even hear the door open behind me, or the footsteps, or the pistol firing. All I feel is the blood and bullet spewing out of my shoulder, and as I twirl around, I see a new face, someone I don’t recognize standing over me, examining their pistol.
“Hey there, Gusterman, I was wondering when you’d show up.” I manage to spit out before the darkness closes around me and I fade to black.
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