Масахико Симада - Death by Choice

“Dr Killer, it was Yashiro who sent you after me, wasn’t it? How much did he give you for the job?”

“Five hundred thousand.”

“That’s pretty cheap. If I pay you the same, would you undertake to kill him?”

“OK.”

“And could you make it straightforward, please? No bringing him back to life after you’ve killed him.”

There was a short pause before the doctor spoke. “One must commit sin to atone for sin.”

At this, Shinobu swallowed a yawn and remarked, “Seems to me this guy goes about things in a pretty funny way. He’s a doctor but he kills people. There’s a contradiction here.”

“No, it’s Yashiro who’s full of contradictions. Kita would’ve died just the same if I’d left him alone. But that would make my duty as killer meaningless, see? That’s why I killed you. I fulfilled my duty, then my duty as doctor took over, and I saved you. There’s no contradiction in that. I’ve atoned for my sin.”

“OK. If that’s how you do things, that’s fine by me. But there’s no contradiction in what I’m asking you to do, is there? All I’m asking is that you kill Yashiro.”

“If that is what you wish…”

Kita’s idea was that if Yashiro was dead, he could at least get back to the way he felt last Friday. Right, he decided, for this one day I’m going to live free.

“I might get you to do something for me too,” Shinobu mused. With a wink to Kita, she asked the killer for his cell phone number. Business was suddenly booming for him, it seemed.

Yashiro woke from a truly horrible dream, in which he’d been blindfolded, bound to a chair, had his mouth forced open, and been made to swallow salted and fermented squid. The slimy taste still lingered on his tongue. He needed water. But when he tried to sit up from where he lay on the sofa, he tumbled to the floor. His arms and legs had been bound with rope, he realized. For a moment he thought he was still in the dream, but the pain in his back and this raging thirst were most definitely real.

“Good morning.” The doctor’s face gazed down at him.

“What’re you doing here? Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Sure. I’ve been sent by Kita to kill you.”

“Stop messing around. Did you kill him? Shinobu’s safe, isn’t she?”

“You’d do better to worry about yourself.” The doctor rummaged around in his Boston bag and brought out a tennis ball and a phial of medicine.

“What did you eat last night?”

“You’re not serious about this, are you?”

“I never lie to my patients.”

“I never said I wanted to die. Are you planning on killing a patient who doesn’t want to die?”

“My duty as doctor is to save patients who want to die. And my job as killer is to kill people whose death will benefit the world.”

“What have you got against me? Tell me!”

“Nothing. I’m just helping the world become a better place.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘a better place’? You’re sick!”

“You’re sick, and so’s Kita. He’s going to die without any help from me. I’ll put an end to myself sooner or later too. But not you. You don’t want to die, so it has to be execution.”

“What the hell are you on about? You’re saying you’ve got a license to kill?”

The doctor wiped an area of the tennis ball with a fluid, and put it to Yashiro’s mouth. “Open your mouth,” he instructed. Yashiro locked his jaws together and glared up at the killer. Yashiro could see the plan. The crushed ball would be pushed into his mouth, where it would swell until it couldn’t be removed. The emetic on it would soon begin to work, and he’d vomit up last night’s food. The ball would block the vomit and send it down his windpipe, and he’d choke to death. Yashiro clamped his mouth shut – but this prevented him from begging for his life. The killer pressed the lethal gag down harder. Yashiro drew his lips into his mouth, and twisted his face away.

“You’re scared of dying?” The doctor waited patiently for an answer. But Yashiro just lay there rigid as stone, suffering the extremity of his situation. The doctor tried again. “You’re scared of dying?” Yashiro, his mouth still clenched tight, gave a little cough in response. The doctor persisted. “Is that a yes or a no?” This time, Yashiro coughed twice.

The nightmare was all too real, in fact. He’d woken too late. Who’d have thought that not locking the office door before he lay down for a snooze would cost him so dear? But no, his luck had run out when he had trusted this guy in the first place.

The doctor was rummaging in his bag again. Had he given up on the idea of choking him to death, and decided on some other way to kill him? He had to free himself from this rope as quickly as possible, and run out the door for help. Or better still, shout for help… But it wouldn’t do to startle the killer, he’d be sure to choose the quickest means to kill him off if he did. OK then, talk him out of it. Brute intimidation wouldn’t work. But what about money?

The doctor was preparing to leave. He zipped up his bag, and bowed deeply. “Please accept my apologies for being so rough with you,” he said, then added, “But you needed to be shown just how it feels to be murdered.”

“What the hell’re you on about?” The guy must be stark raving mad, thought Yashiro. Only someone in a dream could be as absurd as this. This guy shouldn’t be left to roam free in the world. He was dangerous. Get out of my sight, and make it quick! Yashiro prayed.

“How much do you want? Name your price.” What should have been a yell came out as a hoarse whisper. What wouldn’t he give for a glass of water!

“You want to buy your life back? No, my friend, you can have it for free. I’ll make sure Kita gives me back the two hundred thousand I fronted him, plus the two hundred fifty you still owe me. Right, I’m off.”

The doctor leaned close to Yashiro where he lay on the floor, gave a couple of derisive snorts through his nose, and left. Was the nightmare over at last? But if so, this was the worst waking Yashiro had ever had. It took him fifteen minutes to free himself from the rope, heaping curses all the while on this bumbling killer. Then he rushed to the refrigerator and gulped down a bottle of chilled Mt. Fuji spring water. Now he remembered why he was so thirsty. Last night’s meal. He’d dropped in to the Korean grilled meat joint next door and had salted tongue and grilled rib meat on the bone, plus two helpings of kimchi and a bottle of soju . But that alone couldn’t account for the thirst. Quite likely people’s throats went dry when faced with death. He’d been soundly beaten. How could he have let the guy sneak up and tie him up while he lay there asleep? And how could he have gone snoring on, believing it was a dream?

Yashiro couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to ring the yakuza boss who’d put him onto the doctor in the first place, and tell him the story.

“He’ll murder you in your sleep if you let him! Take my advice and rub him out ASAP, for your own safety.”

The boss was an early riser. “What’s this? He tried to kill you, eh?” His tone was mocking.

“The guy’s crazy. He was trying to throttle me!”

“Hmm. How’s your back? No pain there?”

Suddenly, Yashiro felt a sharp, pincer-like pain shoot from his side around to his back. Pain also stabbed his stomach. He’d been so focused on not getting himself killed that hadn’t been aware of the pain until this moment.

“I seem to have strained my back.”

“Really? Take a look at your back in the mirror. Check if there’s any sign of stitches there.