you, and …” Finally, the obvious lies failed and his mouth worked soundlessly, as if a puppet master was pulling the string.
“What’s wrong with the blast door, you idiot? Is it another electrical problem that you can’t figure out?” In Benitar’s own ears, his voice sounded low and mean, and for a moment he was struck by the irony of it, since that was how his father used to sound whenever he drank too much and got nasty. But the awareness did not diminish his rage. “You’ve been the bane of my life since I was foolish enough to hire you. You never gave a damn about the seeds. This has never been more than a job to you, has it?”
“Ish losh more ta me. Your sheeds are criddigal ta me.”
“They are not my seeds, you fool! They belong to the people of the United States, and to the world. I am merely the custodian.”
“I’m sh-shorry. Of c-course, I meant that.”
Tilting his head in disdain and staring down the bridge of his nose, Benitar said, “You are totally without honor.”
“I’ll clean this mesh up,” Hansik said, rising to his feet.
“I’ll make my father proud of me yet,” Benitar vowed, “and you won’t get in my way.” He pointed the gun at Hansik, then looked around, at the others.
“Le’ me make it up,” Hansik said, picking up some of the larger pieces of broken glass and forming a pile on one side.
“I’ve had it with all of you,” Benitar said, “and I’m starting with you first, Jimmy, you little weasel. The more of you I kill, the more food there will be for me, so I can make sure the seeds are saved.”
Bravely, Belinda inched out into the hallway, closer to the Director. “I know you’re upset sir, and rightfully so, but please don’t hurt anybody. It’s not worth it, solves nothing …”
As if in a dream, Benitar heard the delicate clinking of the glass shards as Jimmy moved on the floor and noticed the cuts on his hands, now oozing with blood. It was an odd sensation, making Benitar feel he was somehow apart from the scene, watching it all, seeing the gun in his own hand and all he had to do was pull the trigger, getting rid of a mouth to feed that belonged to this worthless Jimmy Hansik.
And slowly, he became aware of someone else.
“No, Director Jackson,” Belinda said. “Please put the gun down. It was just an accident. Jimmy and Abe had no way of knowing the champagne was yours. The locker was open, with no name on it. They didn’t know it belonged to you.”
“It belonged to somebody, didn’t it?” His gazed flickered over to Abe Tojiko, a hard glare that reflected the portion of the blame he was assigning to each of them.
“They didn’t know that,” Belinda said. “They must have thought it was abandoned by some former employee.”
With an abrupt jerking movement, Benitar pointed the weapon at her, and now he cocked it. “You’re in on this too, and the champagne was mine, saved for a special occasion. The bottles were wrapped in a lab coat, with my name on the lapel.”
“Didn’ shee that,” said Jimmy, still making clinking noises with the glass. “Didn’ know it was yours an’ we’re sh-shorry Benitar, didn’ see your name onna lab coat. Abe and I’ll go out and buy you shum more as shoon azza weather clears.”
Benitar watched Jimmy as he tried to keep from falling down again. His balance was precarious, and he had to hold onto the wall. The cuts were deep on his forearms, and blood dripped on the floor, a further violation. Benitar always insisted on clean floors in the Cascade Seed Repository.
The barrel of the gun moved again, and this time it pointed directly at Hansik’s heart, as if the weapon had a brain of its own and would decide whom to kill, and when.
“P-please,” Hansik said. His skin had gone pale, and his eyes were open wide, causing Benitar to smile. He could stand there forever and enjoy this incompetent employee’s fear, such a minuscule payment for all the grief he had caused.
Slowly,
“What’s wrong with the blast door, you idiot? Is it another electrical problem that you can’t figure out?” In Benitar’s own ears, his voice sounded low and mean, and for a moment he was struck by the irony of it, since that was how his father used to sound whenever he drank too much and got nasty. But the awareness did not diminish his rage. “You’ve been the bane of my life since I was foolish enough to hire you. You never gave a damn about the seeds. This has never been more than a job to you, has it?”
“Ish losh more ta me. Your sheeds are criddigal ta me.”
“They are not my seeds, you fool! They belong to the people of the United States, and to the world. I am merely the custodian.”
“I’m sh-shorry. Of c-course, I meant that.”
Tilting his head in disdain and staring down the bridge of his nose, Benitar said, “You are totally without honor.”
“I’ll clean this mesh up,” Hansik said, rising to his feet.
“I’ll make my father proud of me yet,” Benitar vowed, “and you won’t get in my way.” He pointed the gun at Hansik, then looked around, at the others.
“Le’ me make it up,” Hansik said, picking up some of the larger pieces of broken glass and forming a pile on one side.
“I’ve had it with all of you,” Benitar said, “and I’m starting with you first, Jimmy, you little weasel. The more of you I kill, the more food there will be for me, so I can make sure the seeds are saved.”
Bravely, Belinda inched out into the hallway, closer to the Director. “I know you’re upset sir, and rightfully so, but please don’t hurt anybody. It’s not worth it, solves nothing …”
As if in a dream, Benitar heard the delicate clinking of the glass shards as Jimmy moved on the floor and noticed the cuts on his hands, now oozing with blood. It was an odd sensation, making Benitar feel he was somehow apart from the scene, watching it all, seeing the gun in his own hand and all he had to do was pull the trigger, getting rid of a mouth to feed that belonged to this worthless Jimmy Hansik.
And slowly, he became aware of someone else.
“No, Director Jackson,” Belinda said. “Please put the gun down. It was just an accident. Jimmy and Abe had no way of knowing the champagne was yours. The locker was open, with no name on it. They didn’t know it belonged to you.”
“It belonged to somebody, didn’t it?” His gazed flickered over to Abe Tojiko, a hard glare that reflected the portion of the blame he was assigning to each of them.
“They didn’t know that,” Belinda said. “They must have thought it was abandoned by some former employee.”
With an abrupt jerking movement, Benitar pointed the weapon at her, and now he cocked it. “You’re in on this too, and the champagne was mine, saved for a special occasion. The bottles were wrapped in a lab coat, with my name on the lapel.”
“Didn’ shee that,” said Jimmy, still making clinking noises with the glass. “Didn’ know it was yours an’ we’re sh-shorry Benitar, didn’ see your name onna lab coat. Abe and I’ll go out and buy you shum more as shoon azza weather clears.”
Benitar watched Jimmy as he tried to keep from falling down again. His balance was precarious, and he had to hold onto the wall. The cuts were deep on his forearms, and blood dripped on the floor, a further violation. Benitar always insisted on clean floors in the Cascade Seed Repository.
The barrel of the gun moved again, and this time it pointed directly at Hansik’s heart, as if the weapon had a brain of its own and would decide whom to kill, and when.
“P-please,” Hansik said. His skin had gone pale, and his eyes were open wide, causing Benitar to smile. He could stand there forever and enjoy this incompetent employee’s fear, such a minuscule payment for all the grief he had caused.
Slowly,
Similar Books
