The Devil's Fate (12 page)

“And that’s supposed to help me? How? What’s wrong with Will?”

“Fate enjoys playing games, don’t you know that? And when it finds an amusing one, it doesn’t let up. You should see it when it calls on chaos and tells it how to make its pastime even more of a blast. In your case it was a stroke of genius to inflict on your son the only thing that might dispel the doubts that cloud your mind about truth. He’s got the same defect you had as a child. His heart is packing up and he only has a few days left to live.”

Norman shuddered and a stab of anguish more acute than any he had previously known pierced him to the quick. His body felt as if it were being squashed by a weight that would make him faint and free him from a pain that was too great to bear. He kept his face impassive as he searched the man’s eyes to see if there was any hope in a death sentence issued too casually to be assimilated and accepted unquestioningly. His heart was racing, as if trying to flee from such a powerful emotion. His head was pounding, stopping him from leaving the dark pit he was lost in. The only words he was able to stammer were incomprehensible to him too, but Luc knew it was a cry for help.

“That’s what I’m here for, my friend. Trust me and everything will work out fine.”

As had happened before, and without understanding how or why, the man managed to transmit the peace Norman needed. He set aside all the negative sensations that had engulfed his body and mind, and sieved those words for the hope that would bring him a little relief.

“What have I got to do?”

“That depends on how far you’re willing to go.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Your heart knows the answer to that. And you’ve always listened to your heart. You remember the name O’Neal, don’t you? Of course you do. He’s the one who stole your life. He’s the one person who knows your secrets and fears. And he’s the one who can save you.”

“O’Neal? How can that bastard save me?”

“Only a few people in the world have hearts that are compatible with yours and Will’s. One of them is Mr. O’Neal. You have the chance to settle the score with that imposter once and for all. It’s up to you. You’ll have to deal with guilt, fear, anger, horror and logic. But in the end, everything you think will always bring you to a single fork. Either you take the path leading away from reality and use the money to disappear and make a new life for yourself, or you choose to see reality for what it is and steel yourself to defy fate, killing it if necessary, but with the knowledge of doing it out of need, revenge, to change it! If you choose the first option, you’ll live a peaceful life to all intents and purposes, but you’ll wake up every morning knowing that the man who stole your dreams is living with the heart that could have saved your son. And eventually you’ll rue the day you didn’t do what was right. The second path will take you to hell, but you’ll get back what’s yours. It’s your choice.”

Without another word, Luc was gone, leaving Norman with the knowledge that from that moment on, his life would change; whether for better or worse would be his decision alone.

Chapter 21

The meal was excellent. Eating in an Italian restaurant was like making love for Tommy Queen. The pasta served in an aubergine and ricotta cheese sauce made his mouth water far more than other dishes with more renowned and aristocratic titles. None of those had the power to take him back to the old days when ingredients were more important than impressions. The wine he had selected was no great vintage, but gave peace of mind nonetheless. The day had been favorable and everything was going according to plan. The project he had been working on without respite for three years was of prime importance. Naturally he was exhausted, but the privileges enjoyed by men of power bestowed moments of rest and relaxation that other human beings could only dream about.

The place was emptier than usual, a sign, perhaps, that Tuesday evenings brought little business to restaurateurs. But that was fine by him. He ate his favorite meal to the sound of classical music that gave comfort to those who needed it. The door opened, inviting a man and woman into the room. Tommy watched them come in and then refocused his attention on the wine he had been sipping. His phone rang, but he would never reply while he was dining, even if the Pope had been calling.

“You know it’s rude not to answer when someone calls, Mr. Queen?”

The man he had seen entering a moment ago had approached him and fixed him with an inquiring look as befitted the question. The woman sat down next to him, unleashing all her powers of seduction. Her hypnotic eyes had a surreal beauty.

“And who might you be?”

“I’m your guide.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong person. I don’t need any guide. Do you know who I am?”

“You’re in too weak a position at the moment to be able to influence the events that are taking place.”

“Sorry? Which events?”

“Don’t be stupid. Do you really think that someone who introduces himself as your guide isn’t fully aware of what the man you’re trying to impress has done?”

“I don’t believe I follow you.”

“Believe isn’t the verb best suited to your person. Want would be more appropriate. You don’t want to follow me.”

“Well really! What do you want from me?”

“I’m here to help you.”

“Listen up! My bodyguards would be much happier to keep you company than yours truly.”

The woman began to speak, showering so much attention on him that he melted.

“Come on, Tommy. Do you really believe you don’t need help?”

Her hand grazed his pelvis, probing his very core with its temptations.

“Stay cool, honey. We’re here to broaden your mind. We’re your friends.”

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Daisy. And tonight I feel really lonely.”

Her warm lips brushed Tommy’s, and he was overcome by sensations that were, for him, completely novel.

“Now I have your attention, Mr. Queen, I’d like to ask you to analyze the facts.”

“Which facts?”

“You’re a powerful man, Mr. Queen, but your ambitions have, let’s say, run slightly aground recently. You have certain privileges, of course, pots of money and women galore. But that’s not what you really want, is it?”

“You seem to know a lot about me. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

“A name is nothing more than a label to stick to a face in order to remember it. But, if you really insist, you can call me Luc. Knowledge is something else entirely. Nobody knows that better than you. Men fear the unknown and what it can do. Do you really want to know me? If you do, forget everything your eyes have shown you and look deep into your soul to uncover the desire that wants to make you understand your true nature. You’ll have to give in to pleasure and make it a goal. You’ll have to learn to have faith.”

“You ought to be a politician.”

“Oh, but I am a politician. And a soldier, a general, a lover and a god. But most of all, I’m truth, pure and indestructible.”

“Which truth?”

“The one you’ve been seeking for a long time. The one you think you’ll find in the head of an autistic child.”

Disbelief sent a shiver down Tommy’s back and into his heart. One of his men was evidently double-crossing him.

“That’s what this is about then? Who are you working for? You’ll never get that formula! The man who ordered me to find it is more powerful than you could ever imagine!”

“You mean Mr. O’Neal? He’s not all that powerful, you know. If you knew him as well as I do, you’d have a different opinion.”

“How do you know ...? Did he send you here? Do you want to waste me? I’ve been working on this damn operation for months. You won’t ...” 

“Calm down, Mr. Queen. I don’t think you understand. I’m here to tell you that power doesn’t belong only to the elect. The strong can take it whenever they like. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Or shall I get in touch with someone who’s more ambitious than you?”

“Nobody’s got the power I’ve got!”

“That’s not true if, as you claim, you have to answer to someone else.”

“How dare you insult me like this?”

“Your words, Mr. Queen. I told you I’m the bearer of truth. If you could only see things from a different standpoint, you’d realize that fate has less power to change events than you have.”

“I’ve never believed in fate. I’m my own fate.”

“That’s why I’m here. You can change the course of events, but only if you want to. You can take what you’re entitled to, what you’ve been dreaming about for a long time, too long.”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

“Absolute power, my friend! The right to possess everything! The chance to take your enemy’s place! Mr. O’Neal is too weak to call the shots now. The time has come for you to do that.”

Tommy swallowed the insults he was going to hurl at Luc as his mind began to process what he had just heard. His heart was beating with the steady rhythm of one whose blood is colder than winter.

He suddenly realized that his conscience agreed entirely with the scheme the stranger had proposed. He was too flabbergasted to argue, because it was a plot he had been hatching for some time, ever since he had come to the conclusion that the time was ripe for a radical change of leadership.

“There, that’s right, Mr. Queen. Let the adrenalin flow through your veins and give you the clear-headedness you need to focus on the whole picture. Allow yourself to be carried away by the enthusiasm a choir of angels is singing about in your head. Concentrate on absolute truth, whose face you know so well, the truth whose name isn’t spoken by chance, the one that belongs to you more than any other thing: your soul.”

“And what do you want in exchange?”

“You offend me, my friend. When it’s all over, I’ll have what I want. O’Neal’s demise will make me happy. What we all want at the end of the day is a little happiness, don’t you agree?”

“Is that all? You don’t want anything else? Just to be happy a man’s dead?”

“Mr. O’Neal is no mere mortal. He’s something far beyond your understanding. Anyway, you’ve never really liked him, have you? You’re grateful for the leg-ups he’s given you, but it’s already occurred to you to replace him.”

“How do you know so many things about me? I’ve never uttered a word to anyone about...”

“I told you, Mr. Queen, I am the truth. I hope you’ll listen to your conscience after you’ve listened to me. For the time being, Daisy will ease the loneliness that is often your traveling companion on this earth. Don’t worry, she’s a professional. I promise you’ll be happy for all eternity with her.”

The man got to his feet and pushed the chair neatly under the elegant table that gave the place the kind of ambience its clients desired. Then, as was his wont, he stuck out his hand for the obligatory shake. Tommy clasped it, exhilarated by the turn of events that was leading him to the path he had sought for so long; all he had needed was a nudge to send him on his way. He felt the strength of that conventional gesture, and as he looked into Luc’s dark and unfathomable eyes, he almost felt a quiver of fear. The ambiguous smile he saw there made him wonder for a moment whether absurdity had triumphed over reason. It was probably just a silly sensation, but he would have sworn that a pact with the devil wouldn’t have been much different.

Chapter 22

Alex followed Jonathan and Will for a good stretch, drawn onward by a desire he had never felt before. He would have liked to thank what he saw as an angel for allowing him the only true emotion of his horror-filled life. He was tempted to snatch him from his grandfather and embrace him to return the warmth he had received. But he gave up the idea when they arrived in front of a supermarket. He loathed supermarkets. He hated them even more than he hated gays. He sat waiting on a bench for a while. A stone’s throw away, he saw a woman speaking on the phone. Presumably, she was talking to her husband, or, more likely, her lover.

His imagination took control. He pictured the woman undressing in front of a mirror, her lover behind her, eager to take her and commit the kind of adultery that would revitalize their senses and arouse more lust than a real love story. He imagined her in the throes of love-making, her clothes strewn on the floor of a hotel room. He pictured the man beginning to strangle her in a fit of passion, possessed by whatever disguises itself as an imposter to sate its appetites. He imagined someone knocking on the door and assumed it might be fate trying to put a stop to the evil act. But he had long ago learned that fate has no power over evil. He saw himself stepping through the open door to do what fate should have done: justice. He pictured himself grabbing the man and flinging him to the floor, attacking him like an animal pounces on its prey when hunger shows its true colors, sinking his teeth into his neck and throat, ripping out his windpipe and eating his eyes to prevent him from seeing the road to salvation, making him wander in darkness, for ever damned. He imagined clawing open his chest and devouring his heart because it didn’t deserve to beat like an equalizer’s. Then he imagined turning to the woman he had saved from a devil’s clutches and judging her as a God judges a sinner. He imagined purifying her, piercing her with his talons of truth and tearing out the seed that evil had lodged inside her. Finally, he imagined letting her watch as his hands killed first her body and then her spirit.

The sound of a car horn dragged him back to the bench where the journey had begun. Lucidity took control of the situation, and he rose, forgetting the reason why he had sat down in the first place, as frequently happened. He wiped from his mouth the drool that curious passersby had pointed to, and sloped off to the only familiar place his mind remembered, where he would sup his usual drink and listen to the lives of others so that he could better live his own.

Chapter 23

Taxis were hard to find in that part of town. Norman searched for one for a few minutes, and then decided that it would be quicker to walk through the park than wait in that god-forsaken place to spot a yellow cab. He muffled himself up as best he could to protect himself from the icy cold that was sharper than a knife in the heart.