 |
| The Big Man sits in his chair and makes sounds, soft sounds that are not quite speech. On his forehead is the Mark. |
|
| His throat trembles from the effort of breathing. His face is pale, his neck smooth. His mouth hangs open, weighted down by folds of fat. He shifts uneasily in his sleep as if caught in a fever. In one hand, slipping from his fingers, is a credit card. On a table beside him are a telephone and a glass whose ice is slowly melting. |
|
| Somewhere in the jungle is a young woman. Her face has a strong jaw and intelligent brown eyes. Her hair is matted and she wears a simple jumpsuit that blends with the rocks and trees. Her arms are tied tightly behind her. She is about to be shot. |
|
| Suddenly the Big Man wakes. He looks around in panic and sees that no one is there. He calls for his servant, but the servant doesn't come. As he reaches for the phone, he hears it ring. |
|
| In Washington, Arnaud sits in his office staring moodily at a computer monitor. Close to the floor, hidden in the paneling, air vents breathe with a sound that is not quite speech. The fibers of his business suit also breathe, keeping his skin at the perfect temperature with no effort on his part. Arnaud pushes the blunt end of a pen against his teeth and tries to make sense of the figures glowing on the screen, figures that flicker strangely, shifting position each time he presses the button marked Control. This goes on for some time. Suddenly he seems to reach a decision, coming to life with a series of birdlike gestures: he pushes the chair away from his desk, slips his pen into his breast pocket, reaches for the phone. |
|
| A few thousand miles to the south, the Big Man picks it up. He has trouble holding the receiver up to his ear and is breathing heavily. A sour smell leaks from the folds of his skin. "Hello," he says. |
|
| "This is Arnaud in Washington," says Arnaud. "I've been checking a few things on my computer. It seems that your daughter's in the custody of the National Guard down there, and they're going to execute her." |
|
| "What's that? Helena? What the hell for?" |
|
| "Revolutionary activities. She's been hiding out in the jungle with some of those rebel bandits, lugging a rifle, scrubbing the pots after the men are done eating. A scouting party was caught yesterday, and she was in it." |
|
| "How come I haven't heard about this? Don't they know she's my girl?" |
|
| "Maybe they do." |
|
| A pause. "So when is this...execution supposed to take place?" |
|
| "My source says three o'clock." |
|
| The Big Man struggles to get his watch up where he can see it. "But it's after three now!" he says, squinting at the time. |
|
| "Why, so it is. By the way, you dropped your credit card." |
|
| The Big Man looks down to see the plastic at his feet. Arnaud has already hung up. |
|
|
