Justin Caas - The Third Sex

A small desklamp cast a dim glow in the room. I was through the doorway before I noticed them. Sitting quietly to my right.

“Hello pretty boy,” a familiar voice intoned. Pudding looked up and sneered. “Thought I told you once to move out of town. Seems like you’re a slow learner.”

I recoiled in shock, glanced at Lucy in disbelief. How did these get in here… I was about to say but my heart sank when I saw the hard look in Lucy’s eyes. She smiled, a cold grim expression. “Payback time,” she said flatly.

I looked from her to Pudding, but the one that chilled me was Gretan. He said nothing, but on his lap was a large handgun. So this is where it all ends, I thought. But why the charade? If revenge was what the three were after, why not just an unexpected blow from a dark alley one night. There were plenty of opportunities. And if Lucy hated me so much, why go to all the trouble of a big pretense? Unless of course double crossing gave her an extra frisson of excitement. I remembered that mean streak from early days. None of it made much sense, but overriding all was the sense of doom and a trembling fear that this time, there was no escape.

Gratan spoke, “You crippled my leg.” His tone was hard, but his voice was calm and measured. “I’ve been waiting for a suitable time to tell you how much annoyance you’ve cost me. No doubt you’ll be wondering why I didn’t just waste you on any of the easy occasions you presented us.”

I said nothing.

“But it seemed important to do this properly. So that you know what it’s all about. Also our fat friend here,” he indicated Pudding with a sideways tilt of his head, “has gone to a lot of trouble to dig you a nice grave out the back. So you’ll just disappear. Won’t turn up for work the next day. Sad, but life is real—not like the pansy existence you lead. You probably won’t even be missed!” As he spoke, Gretan’s hand reached for his gun, raised it. I was looking into the barrel of a canon.

“Wait! If you’re so brave why the gun? You afraid of me or something?”

Gretan smiled, still pointing the gun at my chest. “No, I’m not afraid. But I can’t afford to take chances can I? You know my new profession?”

Of course I didn’t.

“I’m a professional killer. I’m for hire. Offer me a better price and I’ll turn the gun on the others and let you live. Perhaps.” He laughed. “But we’re wasting time, aren’t we?” His finger tightened on the trigger.

There were two sharp reports, twin taps to the chest.

Gretan sagged, a look of fury and disbelief clouding his face until pain took precedence. He sagged and slumped back into the sofa.

Lucy had not shifted her position but her outstretched hand held a weapon of her own and now it was pointing at Pudding.

“Look out!” I shrieked. The blast was unbelievably loud and shattered most of the china cabinet. Gretan was down, but not out and clutched the huge weapon in trembling fingers—was aiming a second time at Lucy.

With an agility of which I didn’t believe she was capable, Lucy skipped to the side took two strides towards the crippled hulk and put a third round through his forehead. Blood was dripping from Lucy’s arm. I recovered sufficiently to move to help her, but she brushed me aside. The room was still, the smell of cordite and brutality heavy in the air.

Lucy turned to Pudding, now pale with shock at this unexpected turn of events. “You! Vermin. Drag that rodent outside and bury it in the grave. I’ll inspect your work in a few minutes. If you haven’t worked fast enough, you’ll join him and I’ll fill in the rest myself.” Pudding looked at her stupified. “Now!” she barked. Pudding hastened to comply.

We had the room to ourselves. Lucy replaced the weapon in her handbag. It’s a Beretta 9mm she announced calmly. Useful in situations like this don’t you think?”

It was starting to make some sense. Not a lot, but some. “You used me,” I accused, “as bait.”

“Yes,” Lucy acknowledged, “But first I need to check on the progress that Pudding is making. He needs a lot of motivation.”

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Pudding found himself motivated beyond all expectations and worked with a will. That arsehole Gretan had betrayed him, and the witch Lucy as well. Both deserved to die, but at the moment he was not in a position to administer to her the fate that she richly deserved. The fate that had already befallen Gretan. He, Pudding would not be making that same mistake. His moment would come. Pudding had no doubt about that. This was a temporary setback. She would eventually discover who was the master and who the servant.

Right at the moment the servant was standing over him as he worked more turf into the grave. “Wait!” she commanded. Lucy held the Beretta pointed directly at him. Pudding gave a sickly grin. “The job’s almost finished,” he announced in a placating tone.

“No, it’s not finished until I say it’s finished and right now you haven’t acquired a proper grip on reality. Move around to the side of this pit at once.”

Pudding hesitated. Lucy pointed the pistol meaningfully in his direction. Pudding hastily complied. “Now what?”

“This is not the proper attitude,” explained. “Kneel at the edge if you will.”

Pudding was reluctant but the direction the pistol was pointing and the look on Lucy’s face decided that he’d better humour her. His charm usually worked with ignorant females. She had the upper hand at the moment, but that would change also. Oh yes. It would change. Pudding crouched at the edge of the grave, a servile response which hid an inward sneer.

“I think I should just shoot you and get rid of two problems at once,” Lucy announced calmly. “What would you do in a situation like this?”

“I’m a civilised man,” Pudding protested, “wrongly accused and in a situation where I’ve been terribly maligned, I’d give the person before you, the full benefit of the doubt.”

“Your arguments are persuasive,” Lucy commented. “If you stick to the straight and narrow in life, you will go far. Do you intend henceforth to stick to the straight and narrow?”

“Of course,” Pudding exclaimed. “How could you think otherwise. I am honesty personified.”

A further shot startled sleeping birds who set up an outcry. Pudding screamed in pain as part of his kneecap disappeared and with it a whole new understanding of reality took its place—as Lucy had predicted. Pudding’s whole being was wracked with agony.

“Here is a testimony to my forgiveness,” Lucy spoke. “You have at the moment escaped what you truly deserve. You may crawl out of town now. If you ever return or think to employ anyone to further annoy us, I will hunt you down and cripple you so that you will wish for death as the preferred option. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Pudding was now blubbering in the extremities of his anguish. “Leave town. Not return. Never bother you again. Lucy turned from him in disgust.

She turned to me. “Help me get this grave covered over, but first see this rodent off the premises.” I had followed Lucy out to the garden and now had a new appreciation of her capabilities. Gone the silly teenager, the self-indulgent girl. Now a hard-faced woman. I was proud of her, and more than a little daunted.

“But why the big charade?” I was puzzled.

Lucy regarded me speculatively. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

Lucy sighed. “Gretan spoke the first word of truth in his life when he said that he was a killer for hire. He was good at it. He was aiming for you for a long time. Revenge perhaps. I don’t know. What motivates stupid males? But he wouldn’t do it publicly. By the time that he’d become proficient as a killer you also had acquired something of a public persona. So shooting you dead in an alley would put a lot of heat on him. This was not the way he worked. His preference was to remain quietly anonymous.”