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“You better start talking. Tell me everything. From the very beginning.”
Jeremy remained mute. No explanation would satisfy this man.
“Okay, then, I’ll talk for you. First let’s talk about how you betrayed me, when was it? A few years ago now. So, tell me why you handed our coke over to the cops. What were you aiming at? Trying to get that little jerk wad, Marco? We took care of him. Nobody plays games with our merchandise. But you know what? I don’t think that was it. You would’ve found some other way. You’re so fucking smart. They tell me in lockup you even got the officers and a few important inmates on your side. So…why?” He looked at Jeremy and waited for an answer.
“So then,” he continued, “you cook up a plan to kill my brother. Vladimir was going to do it. But a day or two before, you screw your friend over. Me, I don’t get it. You did thirteen years courtesy of the state. Now you’re all alone, no one to help you, pockets empty…No really, I don’t get it. And I hate not getting it. You’re going to have to explain.”
Jeremy said nothing. He even felt compassion for this man who must’ve wasted hours on developing unlikely hypotheses. The Dog smacked him with the barrel of his gun. The impact stunned him for a moment.
“So, Delègue?” This time it was Curly who clubbed him on the cheek with the butt of his gun. Jeremy felt a warm liquid flow in his mouth.
Yet he felt no fear and no anger. This violence was meant for his double.
Another blow to the head knocked him out. When he woke up, the three men were talking. Curly nodded toward Stako, who turned to face Jeremy. “Oh, here we go. Are you up? Good morning! Let’s pick up where we left off.”
He slapped Jeremy with record force. Jeremy thought he lost consciousness. But he also realized that the blows weren’t the only source of his suffering. He was about to fall into the chasm of time. He recognized each symptom. His body went limp, and his pain disappeared.
Stako looked at him with a nasty smile. “You’re pretty hard, Delègue. No screams, no reaction at all…It’s in your interest to speak up, though. Because if I find out why you did all this—if I believe you did one for my brother by getting rid of Vladimir—then I’ll be lenient. If not, I’ll have to make an example of you to show that nobody, nobody, can challenge our family with impunity. That’s the way it works around here. I have to show that even after all these years, anyone who fucks us is going to get fucked.”
He interrogated Jeremy with a look. After a few seconds he sighed, resigned, and gave a signal to his men. With incredible brutality, they fell upon Jeremy and beat him without restraint. Jeremy closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath.
When the beating stopped, Stako leaned over him. “So, Delègue? I’ll give you one more chance to talk. You know, the more I see you resist, the more you win my respect, and the more I want to know the truth.”
But already there were a few moments of delay between the movements of Stako’s thick lips and Jeremy’s hearing his words. He felt the chill invade him; his arms and legs grew stiff. He was going to vanish altogether from this gruesome, B-movie scene. Stako’s image faded. He heard the men’s voices flow together.
Then, soon enough, he heard another, more familiar voice. The prayer had begun. He turned his head slowly and saw the old man. He was on the left side of the bed, bent over his book, rocking to the rhythm of his chant.
Jeremy saw a shadow approach. He concentrated all his attention on this form, and so he wouldn’t pass out, tried to suck down a breath of air through the blood running in his throat. He could make out Stako’s silhouette a few feet from him and saw him aim the barrel of his gun. The old man increased the intensity of his prayer, emphasizing each word with a wave of his fist. The prayer he recited was finally right for the circumstances. Jeremy heard the blast and a flash of light blinded him.
EIGHT
“Mr. Delègue, wake up. It’s your big day.”
Jeremy didn’t move. He stayed still, eyes closed, hoping to go back to sleep in an instant and accelerate the pace of these absurd fragments of his life.
“Come on, Mr. Delègue. You’re so lazy. Okay, I’m going to start getting you ready,” the woman’s voice spoke again.
Jeremy wondered what her words meant. He opened his eyes and found himself lying on a bed, completely nude. Leaning over him, a nurse moved a gloved hand over his legs. He tried to lift the sheets to hide his naked body, but his hands refused to move. And when he tried to protest, a garbled sound left his throat. He was powerless to make even the most minor movements. His body lay inert and as heavy as an old piece of wood.
Terrified, he redoubled his efforts to move, but only his right arm shifted. Eyes bulging, he watched the nurse handle him like an object.
“Oh, calm down, Mr. Delègue. I’m only washing you. So stop the fuss. And don’t bother looking at me like that. He’s a piece of work, this one. He can be calm and charming one minute, and then out of nowhere, you’d swear he wants to kill you.”
Jeremy looked for whomever the nurse was talking to. On the other side of the room, he saw a nurse peacefully washing another old man.
“There. You’re clean. I’m going to put your pajamas on and a housecoat. Maybe you’ll get a visit today.”
Jeremy was horrified. This episode presented him with a new nightmare, more terrifying than any he’d experienced before.
After she finished putting his clothes on, the nurse shaved his beard quickly and brushed his hair.
“You’re looking good now, Mr. Delègue. I’ll show you.” She held a mirror up to his face.
Jeremy automatically closed his eyes. What would he discover? Did he really have to face a reality that offered him nothing but cruelty? Curiosity, however, proved stronger than his own will, and he opened his eyes to face the surface of the glass. He regretted it immediately. An elderly man’s face looked back at him. An old geezer. Wrinkled skin, sunken features, hair almost completely gray. And on his forehead was a round, swollen scar.
This vision was an absolute horror. It showed the years he’d lost but also his lack of future. What could he hope for now—impotent and nailed forever to this bed?
Prisoner in his own body, Jeremy tried to calm himself and think. This outcome—didn’t it represent a total victory over the other Jeremy? He had won his duel. Now he’d have to deal with the consequences.
