Chinese Puzzle

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ricardo deEstrana y Montaldo y Ruiz Guerner was a dead man. He had placed his beloved weapon on the soft bed behind him, and sat in the chair by the window, September giving chill to his bones, Boston hooting noisily at him from below.

And he stared at the smiling Korean who now sat still in the lotus position in the room across the street. Guerner had seen blinds open, had felt the presence of his victims even before they were open, saw them, then began to create the link between the bullet and the skull of the target. At first, it seemed easier than easy, because the vibrations were there, that feeling between him and what he was shooting at, and it was stronger than ever before.

The target was talking to Maria, and then Maria left, but a strong feeling from the Korean overpowered that from his primary victim and demanded that the Korean be killed first. And so, Guerner sighted, touching the imaginary spear which was his rifle to the yellow forehead, but just missing, and reaching again, and not quite able to keep the spear there, unable to get the correct shot, just moving the barrel back and forth. And then it was only a rifle in his hands, and for years, ever since Sinanju, he had not used a rifle merely as a rifle. He had been in North Korea as a consultant, and he had visited that village, and been outshot by a child, and they had apologized that the master was not there to show him some real shooting, and for a ridiculously small sum of money, they had taught him the technique.

He had thought then that they were foolish. But now staring down the sights of his gun, he knew why the price was cheap. They had given him nothing, only a false confidence which would now be his death, now that he had met the master who had been missing that day years ago.

He tried to sight, like a normal shot, but the gun shook. He had not used it like that for years.

He concentrated on Ms bullet, the trajectory, blocking out the sight of the weaving Korean, and when all was set again, he put the imaginary spear to the victim's head, but the head was not there and Guerner's fingers trembled.

Shaking, he put the cold rifle on the bed. The elderly Korean, still in his lotus position, bowed, and smiled.

Guerner bowed his respects and folded his arms. His mam target had disappeared from the room and would undoubtedly be at his door momentarily.

It had not been a bad life, although if he could have begun life with the vines, instead of entering this business, then perhaps it might have been better.

That was a lie, of course, he realized. He felt that he should pray now, but somehow it would not be right, and what did he really have to ask for. He had taken everything he wanted. He was satisfied with his life, he had planted his vines and harvested his grapes, so what more could he ask for.

So, Guerner silently addressed whatever deity might be out there and thanked the deity for the good things he had enjoyed. He crossed his legs, and then a request came to his mind.

"Lord, if you are there, grant me this. That there be no heaven and there be no hell. Just that it be all over."

The door opened and Maria entered puffing. Guerner did not turn around.

"You get him?" she asked.

"No," said Guerner.

"Why not?" asked Maria.

"Because he's going to get us. That's one of the risks of the business."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"We lose, Maria."

"But it's only 50 yards."

"It could be the moon, my dear. The rifle's on the bed. Feel free to use it."

Guerner heard the door shut. "No need to shut the door, my dear. Doors won't stop these people."

Maria said, "I didn't shut the…" and then Guerner heard the crack of bone and a body bouncing onto the bed, then clumping into the wall near Mm. He looked to his left. Maria, her hair still scraggly, now was soaked with dark blood oozing from her broken skull. She could not have felt a thing, probably had not even seen the hands that performed the execution. Even in death, she looked so incredibly unkempt.

Guerner had another request of God, and asked that Maria be judged by her intentions, not her deeds.

"Hi there, fella, how's the sniper business?" came the voice from behind.

"Fine until you messed it up."

"That's the biz, sweetheart."

"If you don't mind, would you stop the small talk and get it over with?"

"Well, you don't have to be snotty about it."

"It's not that. It's just that I'm tired of dealing with peasants. Now, please, do what you must do."

"If you don't like dealing with peasants, why didn't you become a court chamberlain, shmuck?"

"I believe the job market was depressed at the time," Guerner said, still not turning toward the voice.

"First a couple of questions. Who hired you?"

"She did. The corpse."

"Who'd she work for?"

"Some Communist group or other. I'm not sure which,"

"You can do better."

"Not really."

"Try."

"I did."

"Try harder."

Guerner felt a hand on his shoulder and then a vise, crushing nerve and bone, and incredible pain where his right side was and he groaned.

"Try harder."

"Aaaah. That's aU I know. There's $70,000 in her purse."

"Okay. I believe you. Say, how's the roast duck in this town?"

"What?" said Guerner, starting to turn, but never finishing. Just a flash. Then nothing.