How To Succeed in Evil (24 page)

He arcs high over the city and searches for the staging area. There it is, a parking lot filled with vans and trailers. They are ready to handle anything he might bring back. But this time, all he’s bringing back is success.

Gus struggles down the steps of a modular trailer. “Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ! How come every time there is a shitstorm, you’re smack in the middle of it?”

“What?”

“I gave you one job. One job shit-for-brains, and you screwed it up.”

“What?!? I told him. I told him just like you told me!” Excelsior says. He’s not sure what’s going on.

“I am too old for this shit you understand? Too OLD. Why did you destroy that satellite?”

“You mean the giant laser in space?”

“Laser? What laser? There was no space laser. I’ve got ThromCast on my ass because you tore something called GeoSynchronous relay #7 out of the sky. Do you have any idea how much that satellite cost?”

“No.”

“Of course you don’t. But it’s a lot. Tell me you just set it down somewhere. Gave it to somebody as a lawn ornament?”

“Uh, I crushed it into a small ball.”

“You did WHAT? Why?”

“They blew up a house with it. The little man with the shaved head and the —”

“Just shut up. You just shut up.”

“But Gus—"

“Shut up. You don’t do anything. You don’t say anything. I’ll take care of it. You understand?”

“Look it was—”

“That’s talking. I don’t want you to do that.”

“But—”

Gus looks at him hard. Excelsior thinks about telling him off once and for all. Flying away and never coming back. Gus’ hard guy act is interrupted by a coughing fit. He hacks and hacks and hacks. The color drains out of his face. His lips turn blue. Gus staggers. Excelsior catches him before he reaches the ground. “Help!” cries the most powerful man in the world.

EMTs rush over with equipment. After a few minutes with the oxygen mask, color returned to Gus’ face.

“Gus, I’m sorry,” says Excelsior.

Through the mask Gus says, “Just don’t do anything. Just don’t do anything until I tell you. Or until they figure out if I’m dead or not.” An EMT reaches for the pack of cigarettes in Gus’ breast pocket. “GODDAMN IT! Get your hands off of those. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“You shouldn’t smoke,” says the EMT.

“Yeah, but I do. So deal with it.”

Excelsior watches them wheel Gus away. None of it makes sense. Why is Gus angry? Why can’t he explain it to him? He was there. He saw the laser. He had seen the house explode. He had gone straight up and there was the satellite. Could he have gotten the wrong one? Maybe he should go back and check? No, that would just upset Gus more. Why does Gus get to do what he wants even though it’s killing him?

Excelsior feels like he can’t do anything right. Worst of all, can’t do anything without permission. He doesn’t understand any of it. But right then and there, he decides that it is Edwin Windsor’s fault. Excelsior isn’t going to do anything to upset his sick friend. He's not going to break the rules. But he decides, when he gets a chance, he’s going to get Edwin Windsor. The tall man has to pay. Excelsior just knows Edwin is behind it all.

Chapter Forty 

Mr. The Magnificent

Edwin has been doing well for himself. It shows in his office. The room has retained its essential clarity, but Edwin has adorned it with trophies of civilization. On one wall is a large bas relief sculpture of a man fighting a centaur. It is one of a handful of pieces looted from the Acropolis by Thomas Bruce, the 7th Earl of Elgin. Unlike the others, this particular frieze didn’t quite make it into the British Museum. If it were recognized for what it was, art historians and museum curators would be quick to pronounce it priceless. But Edwin and his exceptionally discreet art dealer know otherwise. Everything has its price. Like the lesser piece by Rodin that occupies a pedestal by the west window. Or the medieval tapestry that depicts the Mongol sack of Baghdad in 1258.

In many ways, the tapestry is Edwin’s favorite piece. It is both cautionary and inspiring. The Mongols had torn across the surface of the earth like a pitiless force of nature. Ruthless and efficient, they used a practical code of laws and the barest handful of people to control the largest empire the world has ever known. And they did this by sparing valuable people and rewarding talent rather than tribal affiliation. 

As Agnes passes the wall hanging, she doesn’t think about any of this. She’s surprised that Edwin has seen fit to obtain and display such a musty old rag. She approaches his desk and waits for Edwin to finish writing.

Edwin does not look up. “Yes?”

“Your 3 o’clock appointment is here.”

“My 3 o’clock? I was not aware that I had any appointments today. ”

“Well, yes, you did not have any appointments and now you have one.”

Edwin looks up sharply.

“That’s the thing with appointments,” say Agnes, “You start off with none, and then, despite one’s best efforts, they pop up like mushrooms.”

“Agnes—”

“Edwin, please, I need you to meet with this man. He is the grand nephew of one of the women I play whist with. And, whist players being in short supply in this benighted country, it seemed a good idea to curry favor by –”

“Agnes, there are hundreds, if not thousands of people trying to waste my time. It is your job to keep them from doing it.”

“Yes, but I was hoping”

“Hope,” says Edwin, “is a dangerous emotion.”

“I was hoping,” Edwin’s hand goes to his forehead. Agnes knows he is upset.

“Send the man away. I have no time for this foolishness.”

“He calls himself Lifto.”

“Agnes, please, I’ve already had my fill of nonsense from Dr. Loeb and his outrageous demands for a secret lair.”

“That is your own fault. Build the child a playpen and have done with him.”

“I will not. It serves no purpose.”

“It will serve to remove him from your misery. Now let me give you a quick precis of your 3 o’clock appointment.”

“You are a disappointment to me Agnes,” says Edwin. He regrets it as soon as he says it.

“Very well,” says Agnes, stiffening with emotion. “I will show him out.”

As Edwin watches her go he changes his mind. “Agnes. All right, I will see him.”

“No, no, You are too right, I should not impose on your precious time.” Now she’s sticking the dagger in. This aggravates Edwin even further. She’s getting what she wants, but now she wants more? Emotions are so difficult and confusing. Edwin rises from his desk.

“Agnes, you are dismissed for the rest of the day.” Edwin puts on his suit jacket and walks to the door of his office. Agnes blocks the way.

“Edwin, I am—”

Edwin is cold and formal. “You are in my way.” Agnes says nothing. She steps out of Edwin’s path and looks down at the floor.

As Edwin walks to the lobby, he smoothes the lapel of his suit jacket and buttons the middle button. In the lobby a man stands and says, “I am Lifto the Magnificent!”

Lifto the Magnificent is not, in any conventional sense of the word, magnificent. He is squat, hairy and is wearing a purple unitard. He is excited. He’s meeting Edwin Windsor. This must mean his career is finally taking off. He knows he has talent, what he needs is someone to help him reach the next level. He believes that Edwin is that man. This is very, very exciting.

When Lifto becomes excited, his complexion turns a deep shade of red that can only be described as purple’s mortal enemy.

Edwin lies, “I am pleased to meet you Mr. Lifto.”

“The Magnificent!” says Lifto.

“My mistake. Mr. The Magnificent.”

As they talk, Edwin discovers that Lifto’s sole power is the ability to lift about 10,000 pounds. Lifto is inordinately proud of his ability. He also likes lifting cars so that pretty woman can have a place to park. It is his disturbed idea of chivalry. Lifto does not tell Edwin that after such feats he swells with pride, turns purple and fails miserably in his attempt to woo the freshly parked women.

Edwin quickly discovers that Lifto is a man with something to prove. He craves attention. This is unfortunate, because Edwin believes Lifto’s real value is his anonymity.

Edwin has a way that Lifto can become a wildly successful. But it requires that he never, ever be famous. For the moment that Lifto became famous he would be an easy target for even the most minor of superheroes. Lifto can make a killing, but it will have to be a quiet killing. How to convince Lifto of this? Because, not only does Lifto want to be famous, he thinks he already is.

Lifto tries to impress Edwin with a scheme of his own devising. His plan is to go on a car-throwing spree during which he will heave cars through the front windows of banks in a three-state area. He follows this rudimentary description of his plan with, “And rob them of course.”

“I’m not sure that –” Edwin starts

“I rip the door off safe, take all money and leave. Maybe throw police car, maybe not. You know, uhh, details. What you think?” Although Edwin doesn’t understand how it is possible, Lifto’s broken, heavily accented English makes his plan sound even dumber than it actually is.

“I don’t think it’s a very good idea.”

“No rob bank? But that where money is!” Lifto protests. He laughs as if he has said one of the most original things in the long-winded history of saying things. Lifto is disappointed when, instead of joining in the hearty guffaw, Edwin searches for a non-existent speck of dirt underneath his perfectly manicured fingernails.

“I just lift up the safe and SMASH it on ground!”

Edwin sighs. This is probably as good a time as any. He says, “The problem is not the safe. Or police cars. Or lifting of any kind.”

“No lifting?” Lifto asks.

“Yes. And you’ll not be robbing any banks either.”

“No banks. But...” Lifto draws a deep breath. He’s getting ready to tell his joke again. To make sure it is funny, this time he is going to tell it very loud. Edwin cuts him off.

“Yes, yes, that’s where they keep the money. But if you rob banks, you lose money.”

“That is no sense making.”

“I’ll try to explain. You see, if there was money in robbing banks, everyone would rob banks.”

“But it’s all profit!”

Edwin presses a panel on the wall and a hidden whiteboard is revealed. He uncaps a marker and asks, “So how much cash do you expect to take in your average bank robbery?”

“$1,000,000?”

“Ah, ambition. Large numbers. I like that line of thought, but unfortunately the average bank robbery grosses only $5,000.”

“5,000?”

“Yes, only $5,000. Hardly worth it.”

“But $5,000 is a lot of money.”

“$5,000 wouldn’t even pay for my suit. But let us assume,” wildly, thinks Edwin, “that you are above average and you are able to gross $10,000 for each bank robbery.”

Edwin writes $10,000 on the board.

“But I’m going to rob many, many bank!”

“Of course, that is your plan. And it is my point. Just stay with the numbers Lifto. So, $10,000 is your benefit from robbing an individual bank. Now, what does it cost for you to rob a bank?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing! Lifto strong like bull. Easy for me to throw cars.”

“Of course it is easy for you to throw cars. But while you are throwing cars and robbing banks you can’t do anything else. It costs you time at the very least. But that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m concerned with what it would cost you if you were caught.” Edwin waits for it. He does not have to wait long.

“NO ONE CAN CATCH LIFTO THE MAGNIFICENT!”

“No, of course not. How silly of me. But let’s just say it was possible. Not in the real world. But in the numbers. These are just numbers, Lifto. Like make-believe. So stay with me. Stay with the numbers.”

“Okay.”

“Now, hypothetically, how many years do you think —”

“But NO ONE CAN CATCH LIFTO!”

“The sentence for armed robbery, first offense, is usually 7 years.”

“But I am to rob many banks!”

“Of course you are. So the sentence would be longer. Let’s call it 20 years.”

“That’s better.”

“Now, let’s assume that instead of going to prison for those 20 years, you hold down a job.” Lifto shakes his mane of hair indignantly. Lifto does not work for other men. He is a ruler of men. A mighty, hairy, lion. Edwin can see that he was losing him again. “A normal job. Say construction.”

“Lifto does not do manual labor. I am in show business.”

Edwin considers asking for clarification on this point. Lifting things is clearly manual, but perhaps Lifto only does it for pleasure. Edwin quickly abandons this line of thought. That way lies madness.

“All right then, what kind of hypothetical job would you like to have?” No good, still too close to madness. Edwin is finding it difficult to keep his mind clear.

With an air of great ceremony Lifto rises from his chair and proclaims, “Lifto will be King of Missouri!”

“Missouri is not currently hiring for that position.” Stop. Get out. Stop. Get out.

“Oh,” says Lifto, obviously disappointed. “Then I don’t care. Something with people. Lifto is a people person.”

“Reservations agent with a car rental company?”

“Yes, I think I would like that.”

“So 20 years helping people with their rental cars, 40 hours a week at $10 an hour would be $400,000.”

“$400,000! Without stealing anything?”

“Without stealing anything. So, we’ll say the cost of getting caught would be the $400,000 you would give up in income.

“Now, let’s say that you got away with the money 95% of the time. But there is still a 5% chance that you will end up in jail for 20 years.”

“But NO ONE CAN —”

“Catch the mighty Lifto. Yes of course. But humor me. Stay with the numbers for just a moment longer.”

So 95% times a 10,000 benefit is $9,500. This is incremental benefit to you of robbing a bank. That is, if our hypothetical Lifto were to rob an infinite number of banks.”

“An INFINITE amount of money.”

“Yes. Very good,” and very loud, thinks Edwin. “That would be an infinite amount of money.”

“So I go rob banks now. Thank you.”