il macellaio

[solutions]

"Someone once explained to me that eyes are a window to one's soul. I must admit that I am a skeptic to this thought. I have no soul. Not because I believe myself to be some type of God amongst men, but because what humanity I had was stolen from me. I am heat. I am the bitter chill. I am subtle. I am extreme. I am a ghost that lives amongst the living, and I am the living amongst the dead. I am heartless. I am ruthless. I am malicious. I feel nothing. My eyes are nothing more than a pale blue color that allows light in so that I might see clearly; not what is unseen, but what is blatant truth. What is tangible, what is real, is what I can see and that is death. Death is savage. Death is sporadic. Death is swift or agonizingly prolonged but it is there, all around everyone. It haunts like a bad wind blown in from the shore that prickles skin with a shiver when one is unprepared. It is a whisper that is kept low like a silent thunder, when it is so obvious the rain will pour out from the heavens at any moment. It is real. It is what every life is climaxing to. We are all born dead, each breath simply draws us closer to it. I am not afraid of death, though I fear sometimes death is afraid of me."

[solutions]

The desert air smelled familiar, though not of cured leather as spurs that shook like rattle snakes. Instead, its smell was more akin to clay and sage -- a kind of smell that was sprinkled over gravestones. He was smudge of oil against a world of gold as pueblos lifted off of the cracked earth and provided little shade to the children playing in the street. Each time his foot rolled over the granules of loosely packed sand, the city seemed to quiet. It was only suiting that the town turn into a ghost as one walked through it.

A fan swung its blades lazily overhead as the low murmur of Spanish wafted out of the open doorway leading into the bar. Like something straight out of a Western movie, it fell silent as soon as his frame blockaded the slight breeze. In contrast to himself was the woman he had come looking for -- her hip hitched itself against the lip of the bar and she poured cold liquor down her throat like water. When the silence began to grate on her nerves, she snapped in Spanish and turned brown eyes on the silent man in the doorway.

"El carnicero. Si?ntese."

A long finger pointed toward a table, before she lazily reached over the counter for a wedge of lime. The man shifted from the door and tightened his jaw before he snapped words back at her.

"La cat?lica. Si?ntese."

"Speak English, you butcher the language." She twisted away from the bar's counter and bit into the wedge of lime before folding herself into the chair and narrowing eyes expectantly.

"Ironic, don't you think?" He sat in the chair opposing her and removed the sunglasses from his eyes. "What do you want."

"Ach, is that any way to treat a friend of yours, Lucio?"

"I don't have any friends, Maria."

"Good point." The woman gave a broad smile and shifted back in her chair as the rind was tossed on the tabletop. "I have something for you, but not here."

"Why not here? They don't seem to understand English very well." Lucio slanted his eyes to their corners as the other occupants in the room had gone back to their conversations.

"Don't tempt me."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Santa Maria."

"I have information about your brother."

"Then I suggest you tell it to me before I decide I'd rather sell your internal organs to a deli south of the border."

She leaned heavy on the table and twisted her mouth into a sour smirk. "If you did that, you'd never know what I know."

"Stop dicking around, I have little patience."

"I need you to do something for me, Carnicero. Something that will benefit us both."

"I don't negotiate with women who attempt to lord things over me like they have some kind of leverage."

"Do you know a Nathaniel Swift?" Maria ignored his comment entirely. "I need you to, how do you say--"

"Your English is terrible."

"Shut your mouth before I decide to cut out your tongue." Maria snapped at him and slammed a palm flat on the table which quieted everyone in the bar again.

"Quieres m?tele."

"I told you to speak English you arrogant fuck!"

Maria lifted her hand to slap Lucio in the face, but pale fingers curled around her wrist before it could connect and forced it backward. In the same movement a gun was pressed against his thigh and one was lifted level with her eye.

"Let go of me or so help me God I will shoot you and watch you bleed to death!"

"Shoot me, and you'll have no eye to see with." Lucio's counter was calm as he snapped her wrist free and flicked the safety off of his gun. "Your choice."

She seethed silently while everyone around them pretended not to notice. Eventually the gun was lifted from his thigh and his own was slid back into its pocket.The two of them sat opposing one another with cinched jaws until she finally spoke.

"Yes, I want you to kill him. You'll be doing me a favor."

"What, he wouldn't kiss your ring either?"

"Fuck you." She spat at his feet and pulled an envelope from a back pocket.It was tossed down in front of him as she jerked her chin toward it. "I didn't want to do this here."

Lucio pulled the envelope toward himself and peeled it open. Whatever was going on in his mind was indecipherable as his face remained stoic until he reached the end of the pictures.He leaned back in the worn wooden chair a moment as his jaw flexed before he suddenly rose from the table and spoke.

"Lui ? morto gi?."

[solutions]

The warehouse fan swung blades like a pendulum ? blocking out the ultraviolet light of the sun that filtered through thick smoke on to the floor. It felt like the Reich had just refurbished itself as she sat in the chair with a languid cross of limbs.

?Get to the point, Jacob.?

Her words were drawled out as the man stood behind the desk as a glowing silhouette punctuated by the ember of a cigar. The man grunted a reply to her as feet paced behind her like vermin skittering across the floor. She rolled dark eyes and uncrossed her legs, only to cross them again with her heel slamming against the cement in a loud clap like thunder. He was trying her patience and she was only reverent to one God.

?What happened.?

?I already told you. Dos p?jaros con una piedra.? She waved a hand that seemed to flutter in and out of the light as she spoke.

?That?s just what I?m talking about.? The man slammed a fist against the desk and growled at her. ?You weren?t sent out t??

?You sent me to do my job and I was doing it!? She rose and shouted words to interject.

?Sit down Maria!?

?I do??

?Sit down Maria.?

The click of a safety and the barrel of a gun firmly planted at the base of her skull was enough to make even the most regal fall back into their chairs.

?As I was saying, that stone is what you?re here for. You don?t have it, and now I want my prisoner back.?

?Your prisoner is dead.? Maria snapped words at him with a vicious smirk that held more of a sharp edge in the swaying light.

?What??

?Your prisoner. Is dead.?

?You fucking k??

?No, I didn?t. Nathaniel did.?

The man suddenly fell silent as if this information was nearly startling. He seemed to have disappeared entirely as he moved away from the desk. The cigar?s end was the only thing that kept pointing him out as he shifted beside her chair.

?There?s someone you need to see, here is the address.?

Maria took the card that was being stabbed into her arm before she moved to stand but was shoved back into the chair by a firm grip.

?Does he know??

?I told you Jacob, two birds with one stone. Lucio is taking care of Nathaniel.?

?And the diamond??

?That comes after my gesture of good will. He?ll send it to you, don?t worry.?

?If he doesn?t...?

?Don?t flatter me, Jacob. Let go of my arm before I remove it for you.?

[solutions]

His heart beat like a war drum in his ears ? slow at first but increasing as eyelids cracked open underneath the thin film of scarlet that had congealed to seal his eyes closed. It wasn?t until his face felt the force of being struck that the room spun with streamers of metal and white light ? he felt weightless. It took a moment before he realized that the feeling came from being suspended by two meat hooks driven through his wrists.

?Shock.?

The accent was darkly poured out to echo off of the walls. Nathaniel blinked violent blue eyes in an attempt to focus on anything other than the metal hooks which suspended slabs of meat all around him. The hollow song of metal being sharpened pierced his ears before the voice, which he had now established was behind him, spoke again.

?Shock is the human response to pain. You don?t feel it,? the voice paused, as a gloved hand reached forward to jerk one of the chains suspending Nathaniel, causing him to cry out. ?Unless you?re not prepared for it.?

Nathaniel moved his mouth to speak, but found his tongue heavy and his throat dry. The voice must have realized this because with in a moment, the man stepped into plain view and offered up a cup. It could have been anything, but Lucio was a man of principle. Merlot slid down Nathaniel?s throat before the cup was withdrawn. After a few swallows of frigid air, Nathaniel opened eyes wide and attempted to speak.

?I thought...We...Had a..?

?A deal, Mr. Swift? We had a deal, si. Until you decided to cut up my brother and take photographs.? As Lucio spoke, a cart was wheeled out lethargically before it was violently swung into Nathaniel?s leg, causing him to cry out again but it was short lived. In place of pain, Nathaniel shook violently with laughter that echoed in a death rattle as his head lolled to his chest.

?The price you pay is high when you steal from me.?

Lucio leaned up on tip toes to whisper his words into the man?s ear. ?And tenfold when you take something of mine.? He pulled back and examined the knives on the cart, gingerly rolling fingers over each one before he made his selection. ?You?ve put me in a particularly compromising position Mr. Swift. Part of me wants to kill you now, and the other part of me wants to make you suffer first.?

?Don?t be a coward.? Nathaniel spat words at him as his mouth twisted into something rueful. ?I would kill you.?

?I?m going to kill you, make no mistake. However, I want to know the name of your contact.?

?I don?t owe you anything.?

?Actually,? Lucio?s jaw flexed before he scraped the knife along Nathaniel?s arm in order to lift the skin. ?You owe me everything. ?
Each time the knife connected with skin, it was in an attempt to flay the tissue underneath it. By the time Nathaniel had stopped screaming, Lucio was already dropping the slices into a brine barrel.
----

And there was morning, and there was evening on the sixth day.

Maria twirled her invitation between two fingers as she sat across from Jacob, who watched the city?s lights through the window. She sighed slightly and turned her lipsticked grin toward the floor. In all of her prophetic glory, she could have never predicted the extent to which Lucio would go to make sure that he was understood when sending a message.

The banquet hall was lavishly decorated as if royalty had swept through to grace its walls. Seven tables lay in a series of staggered rows ? each one held silver platters full of ice and upon inspection, strips of cured meat arranged in a design that led to the only platter with its cover. Jacob rolled fingers over his jaw with impatience.

?Where is everyone??

?Your CIA friends are always late for their parties.?

?I don?t like this, Maria. I don?t like these games. What is that.? He ticked his head to the side to indicate the platter that both sets of eyes had landed on.

Maria took a step toward the table, but immediately stepped backward as the cusp of her wrist was held against her nose. ?Jesus, what is that smell.?

?Sea salt.? Jacob offered the explanation distractedly as he marched forward and removed the lid.

There, on display was the cured head of Nathaniel Swift ? his mouth propped open around a card that cut into the leathered sides of his mouth. On it in bold lettering was one simple word:

Pray.

<font color="#EE0000" size="1">[ April 22, 2005 12:47 AM: Message edited by: guerrilla literature ]</font>

[solutions]

The dismal gray of Austria suited him nicely, but the inside of the bank made his mouth twitch slightly. Smiling faces were ignored as he held up the key to a safety deposit box that had been left for him with specific instructions. Rows of numbers were scanned under dark lenses before he retrieved the correct rectangle from the wall and set it down in one of the burgundy rooms. The key turned the lock and he opened it slowly to reveal nothing more than a necklace.

A hand reached inside of his pocket as the door was opened to reveal a smiling brunette who offered him an envelope and left again. The necklace was nudged into the envelope before it was sealed and the box was put back into place. He left the room for the hallway, exchanging a nod with the managers who smoothed their ties as he brushed passed them for the double doors.

The air still held the bite of winter, despite the fact that summer was fast approaching. Shoes clattered against the pavement as the envelope was slipped into his pocket before he watched the flight pattern of birds lifting up from the square.It only took that brief second before he saw it -- a flicker of light, reflecting like a mirror signal before it disappeared.

He raced across the square, toward the side entrance of the building and threw his shoulder into it to gain access. Stairs were taken two at a time until he reached the top of the building, which lay empty. Feet were cautious in their steps over the rooftop as he approached the ledge in the very same spot that he had seen the spark of light. Eyes scoured the ground before he saw it, fingers reached to pinch the item in his hand before he disappeared back the way that he had come.

[solutions]

The stagnant smell of death hung nearly as heavy as the racks of meat which dangled from hooks like ornaments. He moved through them like a ghost, pausing only when he had reached the rows of sterile tables awaiting their shipments. Gray eyes shifted around the bustling workers in white until he found the portly man, shifting away from an open door with a napkin pressed to his brow.

"Il pomeriggio, signore Delgado."

His voice was a vicious sound -- cut sharp by a gunmetal tongue that startled the poor man and turned his eyes wide. He shifted his weight nervously and wrung the ends of the napkin between fingers before he shuffled toward the man in black.

"You're early! But I have what you asked for, if you'd like to come to my office?" The man's voice was lifted in choppy English as he jerked a thumb toward the door.

"No, I'd prefer you bring me what I asked for," Lucio spoke as he turned the face of his watch toward him. "I'm on a tight schedule."

--

Venice was a fresco painting of pomegranate and terra cotta as two sets of feet swept over the open road. They split like two halves of a black sea around tourists and natives who came from the opposite direction, heavy laden with bags and cameras.

"Quite short notice of you, Lucio. I expect more from you."

"Fiorista, sono incline all'impulso." Lucio spoke with a languid manner as fingers tapped at the dark lenses that covered his eyes.

"That's a lie." The man laughed and shook his head before turning eyes to the profile of a man he would consider a friend, were he a considerate man. "What is it?"

"A simple favor." Lucio reached into the breast pocket of his coat and produced a small black box and a card. "Send this to the address on the front of the card with an arrangement of your choice."

The man took the box and opened it, a wide smirk crossed his face as the lid was shut back over the interior of a carved hair clip.

"Why Lucio, I didn't know you to be so tender-hearted."

"She's asked for dinner at a seafood restaurant which I cannot cater."

His vague response sparked shock from the man, whose face visibly faulted with the news.

"She?"

"A woman named Lila."

"You have gone soft."

"Don't be ridiculous, that clasp is part of Sigore Carpenter." Lucio's face stitched a smile across it before he picked up pace to turn down a row of shops. "Don't forget about the flowers, I would hate for you to lose something valuable."

[solutions]

The hyperventilated breaths that came from nearly crushed lungs filled in a hollow repetition of an aluminum sound. She swore from this moment on that she would never eat fish again -- half swollen eyes could make out the time of day by the blinding slice of white light that moved across her legs like a barcode scanner. The minor jolts of moving over the road slammed a dislocated shoulder against the padded interior of the trunk, until the vehicle came to a violent stop.

Her breathing deepened until the sound deafened her against the sound of her own pulse from a swollen heart that was lodged in her throat. In a moment, the trunk's lid was popped open and she pressed eyes closed against the blinding rays of the dying day and the man who loomed like a shadow and roughly rolled her onto her side.

"It's a real pity that I have to do this to you, Linda. I have such a soft spot for blondes."

She attempted a muffled reply as he clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shut the lid of the trunk on her again. In another moment, the car was rolling slowly until it sounded like a train was coming straight toward it without the bells and whistles. It only took a moment before the muddy water of New York seeped into the cracks of the trunk and started to swallow her.

Immediately she screamed and thrashed about in the water which only caused her more discomfort as she was broken and battered beyond repair. On the shore, he watched as the car sunk underneath the water like a hearse -- in a sense it was a casket, and the explosion that happened underwater, only caused the surface to explode in a spray of water as if someone had just dropped a boulder into the river. He turned away from the scene and pulled a cellular phone from his pocket.

"Hello I'm calling to ensure that my reservations are still on for this evening."