The Intangibles Read online

  Stinger carelessly pushed Eddie to the rear door. Feeble attempts to resist produced no result. He grabbed Eddie by the elbow and stuffed him into the car. Then he opened the front door for Linda. After she got in, he took the driver’s seat. His assistants sat beside their scared prisoner, flanking him.

  Stinger started the engine and the SUV left the parking lot.

  “He beat me,” said Zet through his teeth. “Follow them!”

  Adrian started the car and, keeping his distance, tailed the silver SUV.

  “Son of a bitch!” snapped Zet. “How did he know? Wire him. Keep me posted. I want to know all his movements and who he meets! That brat has always been a burr in my saddle!”

  * * *

  The unpleasant guest, Max’s assistant Eddie, had now been at Stinger’s place for over an hour. Unpleasant because once he had entered, he’d managed to knock over one of the wooden floor vases in the spacious living room. When he’d bent down to pick it up, Stinger had kicked him and pushed him into one of the armchairs. Eddie left the vase alone and sat down with his head shrunk into his shoulders.

  Linda reproachfully watched this pitiful show. She placed the vase back in its place, put on long gloves made of fine leather, and walked to the small glass terrarium cage, one of many along the back wall of the room. She removed the lid and lovingly whispering something, reached into it.

  At first Eddie didn’t understand what was in the cage. But when he had a better look, his feet got cold. Something moved inside there and then Linda held up a huge, hairy, greyish spider lazily moving its legs.

  Eddie opened his mouth; his eyes became round and a chill went down his spine. He had never seen such spiders in real life.

  Linda took the monster to her bosom as if it were a kitten and, stroking it tenderly, sat down across from Eddie. He fidgeted as he watched the wicked creature slowly moving its hairy legs, while holding onto her shirt.

  “It’s a Chilean rose tarantula,” commented Stinger, reading the silent question in Eddie’s eyes. “They are common pets. My wife has cared for this one since its birth.”

  Stinger walked to Linda, sat beside her and looked into her deep, dark eyes.

  “It suits her,” he went on, stroking the pink back of the spider. “And it loves her.”

  “Spiders aren’t dogs, they can’t love,” said Eddie through his teeth.

  The hairy monster absorbed his attention. It would slowly, lazily move its legs around each time Linda stroked it, going still when her hand stopped.

  “What? I didn't hear you. You said something?” Stinger quickly turned.

  “Nothing. I mean… spiders are insects, they can’t love.”

  Stinger stood up and stared at Eddie. “So you mean to say that you’re very familiar with spiders?”

  “No, I’m not, but….”

  “Spiders aren’t insects, you dumbass.” Stinger said dismissively, poking Eddie on his sweaty forehead with his finger. “But I have no desire now to discuss that or explain something that they were supposed to teach you in biology class. I want to know something else.”

  Eddie looked away and fidgeted. “If you mean that, you should ask Max, I don’t know anything! I’m just his assistant!”

  “Well, then tell me where you store all your stuff, your records, formulas, whatever you have…”

  “I-I don’t know. Max has everything.”

  “You mean you know nothing at all?”

  Eddie shook his head.

  “And did you say anything about this when you were in the church?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. And how many bracelets do you have in total? One? Two? A dozen?”

  “No,” said Eddie, “we only have the one.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely. We were working on this together.”

  “Together? Just the two of you?”

  “Well…”

  Stinger took out his smartphone, pulled a picture up on the screen, and shoved it under Eddie’s nose, making him squint and back off. His pink face quickly grew pale.

  “Who is she?” Stinger asked in a suave voice, while his eyes drilled Eddie to the bones.

  Eddie recognized the picture that he’d seen on Max’s desk in his office. There were three people in it: Eddie, Max, and a light-haired girl with sparkling blue eyes.

  “Who is she?” Stinger repeated his question.

  Eddie flushed again. “It’s… we… she…”

  “Stop this mumbling.” Stinger poked Eddie again, in the chest.

  Eddie jumped and grew even paler. “It’s his ex-assistant. They… we… worked together. But she went missing two years ago.”

  Stinger chuckled as he looked at the picture of the nerd and the happy couple, who appeared more than mere co-workers.

  “And you said you knew nothing. Now, tell me about her.”

  * * *

  There was another terrarium cage next to the one from which Linda had taken her gigantic pet. As Eddie finished his inconsistent and muddled story, Stinger walked over to it.

  The white, furry balls stirred when Stinger opened the lid and reached inside. He caught one mouse by the tail and walked to the armchairs where Linda and Eddie sat. He stood between them. The mouse twisted and writhed repeatedly.

  Linda fiendishly smiled as she grabbed the spider by its meaty, pink belly and put it on her lap. The spider lazily moved its legs in response.

  “Once upon a time… lived a grey mouse,” started Stinger looking at the twisting animal. “She was living her life decently and worked a lot.” He looked up at Eddie. “She paid her taxes and was loyal to her master, but one day she got into a weird situation.”

  The mouse was swinging in Stinger’s left hand, while he made a round motion with the fingers of his right hand and a file appeared in it. He took it to the middle of the mouse’s tail.

  “Common sense told the mouse how to handle her situation, but she could not make up her mind. Instead, she listened to her friend called Conscience, but Conscience didn’t know life well, either…”

  Eddie fidgeted again when he saw the sharp blade in the hand of the madman who had just stormed into his life. He moved his lips, silently saying the Salvation Prayer, which he’d heard many times in the Church of the Spider.

  “Don’t rub a hole with your butt!” said Linda. “It’s expensive upholstery!”

  She was still sitting across from him with her legs up in the armchair and the spider on her lap. It spread its long legs with whitish hair, as if hugging Linda’s legs. Eddie’s attention was drawn there as if by a magnet.

  Linda slowly put her pet onto the floor. The spider headed toward Stinger, who was still standing between the armchairs. Eddie tensed up and shrank when he saw it moving.

  “The mouse was contemplating for a while, but eventually didn’t make the right choice and… lost everything in a jiffy!” said Stinger, and dispassionately cut the tail.

  The mouse fell to the floor. The spider halted for a moment. The mouse turned over onto its feet, and that very instant the listless and apathetic bird spider transformed into a lightning-fast predator. In one leap, too brisk for an eye to see, it clutched its victim in a death grip.

  Stinger’s eyes sparkled with admiration, while Eddie went numb. He clutched the arm pads, his face twisted, his arms covered in goosebumps.

  The mouse tried to break free a couple times but it was doomed. The predator constricted its victim and started to devour it, its front legs sunk deep into the mouse’s white hair.

  “Though it was one inch away from success and a big, very big, chunk of cheese.” Stinger finished his story and looked into Eddie’s utterly white face. “Interesting fable, isn’t it?”

  Eddie said nothing.

  “Okay,” Stinger nodded, taking the tablet from the coffee table and directing its camera at Eddie.

  “And now you’re going to give a short interview. Look here”—Stinger pointed at the camera—“and tell us about your friend
. You want your story to end with a happy ending, don’t you?”

  Eddie could not look away from the hairy monster, which had already swallowed the head of the mouse and kept moving its jaws and front legs.

  “Hey, assistant,” said Stinger. “Did you hear me?”

  Eddie shook his head.

  “That means what? You don’t want to give an interview?”

  “I can’t… I can’t….”

  “Oh, you can’t?”

  Stinger ambled up to Eddie, paused a bit, and lifted his head by the chin.

  Eddie winced and babbled something. Beads of sweat appeared on his temples.

  Stinger frowned. “I would happily push your kisser in! You know how thugs normally get people to talk, right?”

  Eddie shook his head again.

  “You haven’t seen any mafia movies? Well, let me tell you then. They clock the guy and the guy tells them everything they need. Feel me?” Stinger clenched Eddie’s chin again. Eddie squealed and winced. “And they do it much more painfully than I did now. You could say that I barely touched you, my nervous assistant. I wish I could punch your mug in, but we actually need it for the video. We need you nice and alive.”

  He let go of Eddie’s chin, which remained whitish.

  “Open your eyes,” said Stinger. “I wanna show you something.”

  Eddie’s wet eyelashes slowly opened to reveal his haunted look. There was more suffering and pain than there had been in the eyes of the mouse just before death.

  Stinger nodded. Linda took a small box from the table, stood up, and gave it to her husband.

  “Thank you, darling.”

  He took the box and got a transparent object out of his pocket. Eddie thought he’d seen it before.

  “You know what this is?” asked Stinger, moving it in front of Eddie’s face. “This is a dentist’s tool. They call it a spreader. It’s for spreading the mouth.”

  Eddie took fright, fidgeting, looking at the transparent plastic thing, and vigorously shook his head.

  “No… no… you can’t! This is illegal!” he squalled but could not recognize his own voice. First it was somewhat unreal, but now it seemed to him that he would faint, as the whole thing was transforming into a non-stop, utter nightmare and becoming more and more real. And now this… But they couldn’t! It’s the 21st century, and they were in New York City, not somewhere in Somalia.

  “Oh, don’t you worry!” Stinger laughed. “I’m not a dentist, and I’m not going to dig in your dirty mouth hole. All I know is how to install this thing…”

  He grabbed Eddie’s chin again and quickly shoved the spreader into his half-open mouth. Before Eddie realized what had happened, the spreader was preventing his jaw from closing.

  Stinger stepped back. “Did they tell you that you should take care about your teeth?”

  Eddie stared at his tormentor and tried to reach for his face, but Stinger was faster. He grabbed and wrung Eddie’s hands so that Eddie shrieked, and then tied them with duct tape to his chest.

  Now Eddie was totally paralyzed and could only shake his head and grunt. He was drooling, and his tongue was hanging helplessly between his teeth.

  “Yuck!” Linda squirmed.

  “He had it coming.” Stinger shrugged.

  “He can screw it all up.” Linda got up and walked up to Eddie. “Moves his head too much.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  Stinger placed duct tape on Eddie’s neck.

  “Lean back,” he demanded.

  As the tape touched his neck, Eddie ceased to move about and grunt and slowly leaned back in the armchair. He now resembled a rabbit sitting quietly before a boa constrictor.

  “Careful, don’t strangle him,” sneered Linda.

  “I know.”

  Stinger wrapped the tape around Eddie’s neck three times, attaching it to the back of the armchair, stepped back, and nodded contently.

  “Now he won’t fidget.”

  Linda smiled with sympathy at Eddie, who was giving her puppy-dog eyes while grunting and trying to move his tongue.

  “You should have told us what we asked.” She sat back down into her armchair.

  Stinger picked up the box which he’d put away and tenderly stroked it. “I used to deal with these cute bastards a while ago.”

  He opened the box and carefully took out another middle-sized spider, smaller than the other one, but nevertheless Eddie froze when he saw it. And when Stinger moved it closer to him, his face went whiter than bedsheets. The greyish creature was moving its legs.

  “Isn’t he beautiful?” Stinger smirked as he took the spider closer to Eddie. “This one is quite big, but normally these are smaller. Did you know that there are about forty thousand named species of spiders worldwide?”

  He talked to Eddie but didn’t even look at him. He was holding the spider with two fingers, adoring the hairy creature with a red patch on its back; it helplessly tried to escape. Eddie could hardly breathe, mesmerized by the hairy legs flying back and forth before his eyes. He had every chance to examine this wonderful specimen, the red-backed jumping spider, about two inches wide.

  “About forty thousand species, can you imagine?” Stinger went on fanatically.

  Linda smiled serenely as she watched her husband.

  “It’s as if some mad genius created them, trying to evolve some perfect specimen. They are all beautiful, each and every one of them… By the way, what is your favorite species?”

  Stinger finally looked at Eddie. Eddie was panting, his face and forehead sweaty. His armpits were drenched and he stunk.

  “You don’t like them? Are you scared?” asked Stinger. “Only fools fear them. Spiders are perfect creatures. They are creators of worlds! Do you know anything about that? Of course, you don’t. In ancient times, they used to believe that spiders had woven the reality in which we all live. To fear creators is to fear yourself. And this is utterly stupid.” Stinger spoke firmly and waved his unoccupied hand. “But I tell you what…” He moved in on Eddie, getting so close that his breath blew across the hair on his prisoner’s head. He went on in a low voice. “They did not weave this reality. They have woven the illusion of the reality in which we all live.”

  A long, pregnant pause grew thicker in space and time, nearly freezing it. Instants evolved into seconds, seconds into minutes. The minutes flowed by slowly and evenly, as if they were honey.

  All Eddie could see was Stinger’s face, hovering above him like the executioner above the chopping block; the only thing that the worn-out prisoner wanted was a quick death. But his executioner seemed to want something else.

  Suddenly, a kind smile replaced Stinger’s seriousness. “I will introduce you to this process… the process of creation. Just a bit.” Stinger moved his thumb and index finger close together.

  His other hand, the one holding the spider, moved toward Eddie’s face. Closer and closer. Eddie tried to move back but the tape was holding his neck well, strangling him, and every motion caused him pain. Stinger’s hand stopped right above Eddie’s open mouth.

  “By the way, I should have warned you,” said Stinger. “This spider isn’t venomous. It won’t bite you. However, be careful with it.”

  The next moment, Eddie felt something scratch the roof of his mouth. He didn’t want to think about what was happening to him; he wanted to disappear, evaporate, pass out. He didn’t want to feel it. He couldn’t have imagined this in his worst nightmares. At some point, he even thought it had ended, as he couldn’t feel any further scratching. And at that very moment Stinger fetched a scarf or maybe a towel and covered Eddie’s mouth with it.

  Stinger’s eyes sparkled with a diabolical fire as something scratched Eddie’s mouth again, and then his tongue. The spider crawled along his tongue and the appalling sensation moved along with it toward his throat. It triggered Eddie’s gag reflex and he moved his tongue. This scared the spider and it frantically tried to grab hold of the inside of his mouth.

  Eddi
e yelled as loudly as he could. The vibration of his own voice alleviated the disgust. But only for a moment. The spider moved along the inside of his cheek, and this was unbearable. It clung to his tongue, scratched it, moved about, causing hellish sensations, which were tortuously maddening.

  Eddie’s eyes popped out and he yelled again. His voice was breaking as his inhuman guttural cry filled the room.

  Through the miasma of his pain and confusion, he saw Stinger reach over and slowly, disconcertingly slowly, removed the gag, not yet letting the spider out of Eddie’s mouth. The creature halted but then resumed its movements.

  Eddie got another wave of horrible oral sensations, this time less. With a buzzing feeling in his head, he was about to faint and felt the spider clinging to his teeth and lips, trying to get out. Finally, he saw Stinger take the disgusting thing off his face.

  But the buzzing noise inside his head was getting louder and he felt himself blacking out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the knife appear in Linda’s hand, and the pressure on his neck was relieved. In a second, his hands were free, and then he finally fainted.

  * * *

  He came around because someone was slapping him on his face. His heart was pounding; he twitched a couple times and waved his hands. Linda stepped away.

  “Poor boy,” she said. “I told you he’s too feeble for this.”

  “Any guy with balls would take it!” answered Stinger, examining Eddie.

  “You said that spiders aren’t mere living beings. They are of the Creator’s nature.”

  With the last sentence, Linda imitated her husband’s tone very well. He looked at her and laughed.

  “Did I?”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “Forget it. These are just the delusions of my zealous brother.” He turned to Eddie and continued. “You could swallow it. The Chinese eat spiders. It takes balls to swallow it. I would.”

  Stinger thoughtfully stared at Eddie, who looked awful, with his messed-up hair clinging to his forehead and temples, his red puffy eyes and grayish-green face. He looked at his tormentor vacantly, nodding and babbling.