Nuclear Jellyfish

WEST PALM BEACH

Serge sped south, bobbing in the driver’s seat. “Governor, tell the story about the rat bait. Please?”

“You do know your history.”

“Coleman,” said Serge. “This is a quintessential Kirk story kicking over the money changers’ tables in the temple. There used to be this big state contract for rat bait, and the governor wanted to make sure it was actually being used. So he went to Gainesville, where there were a lot of abandoned properties, and a bunch of hardworking low-economic citizens were living in unacceptable conditions. Take it from there, gov …”

“Big politicians were always coming back to watch University of Florida football games and would drive right by these neighborhoods, not giving a damn. So I went to the local health officials and said, ‘How many rat baits have we put out here?’ And the top guy said, ‘I don’t know.’ I said, ‘Go get a rat. Logically if you’ve put rat baits out, you’ve killed a rat. Show me how many damn rats you’ve killed. Bring a couple in here. And let’s weigh ‘em. And next time we have a meeting, you’ll bring some more rats in and weigh them. Now if we’ve done our job, the rats have to get smaller, because they’re younger and they’re not eatin’ good.’ The issue got across …”

A cell phone rang. “Sorry,” Serge told the governor. “I need to take this. Would you mind grabbing the wheel?”

“What?”

“The key to Florida road-tripping is a dependable travel companion who’s good at steering from the passenger side so the driver can tend to other tasks.”

“Don’t let go of the wheel!”

Serge let go.

The governor’s left arm swung out and gripped it. “What’s wrong with you?”

Serge held up a finger for quiet, opening a notebook and holding the cell to his head. “Had a feeling you’d call back … No, my terms are unnegotiable … Want the diamonds or not? … Is that a threat? … Oh yeah? Well, 1 make the threats around here …” Serge pulled a gun from under the seat and waved it around the car. “… You want to fuck with me, motherfucker?…” He pulled up to a curb and turned to the governor. “That’s your house. You can let go of the wheel now.” Then into the phone: “… Is that so? I should smash your fucking skull in just for saying that! … Call me back when you calm down [click].”

The governor got out and slowly backed away from the car, watching silently as the Javelin sped off, gun waving out the window.

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