In the back of his limousine, Axel puts his hand on Scarlett's black shoulders and whispers in her ear: "Why do we need the kid? You and me. We work out the details. Nice and juicy."
"The kid stays.", Scarlett says, surly. She removes the hand and puts it where it belongs: between Axel's legs, so he can play with himself.
For the rest of the trip, we keep a deadly silence. Scarlett looks outside. Axel looks at Scarlett. Facing them on the opposite seat of the limousine, I try to remember our route in case when we have to walk back later.
We stop for a few seconds, and then we enter a forest of ancient oaks. Through the rear window, I watch how a steel entrance gate shuts the gap between two high, concrete walls, and then we lose track among the trees. It's the best example of protection of natural environment I've seen in years; nobody can touch this forest, and nobody can get out of it either.
A few minutes later, we park in front of a mansion, surrounded by a well-maintained garden. The driver helps us step out of the car and even opens the front door for us. There are hav'ers and do'ers. He's a do'er.
Axel shows us to his library. He invites us to sit in one of the red-leather chesterfield armchairs, while he walks to the bar in the corner to pour himself a drink. "Do you want water? Wine? Whisky? Something stronger?", he laughs.
He turns around with the tumbler in his hand. His laughter stops immediately. He can't see the joke: "What's this?"
"This is something stronger.", Scarlett explains: "We don't want anything from you, Axel. On the contrary: I have a strong desire to give YOU a present, completely for free. It's a free sample of our merchandise, and I'll supply you with it as long as you want."
Scarlett gives him her most luscious smile, while she holds up a tiny plastic bag that contains a white powder. With her deep voice, she whispers: "Come close and see. Find the girl, if you can. Run. Into the trees. Hear her voice. She's calling your name. The sound is deep. In the dark. Start to run. Again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again…"
Her hypnotising voice and the dangling drugs have a strange effect on Axel. He wants her, but he knows she's seducing him. Giving in will destroy him forever, but he can't resist. Scarlett is irresistible. He takes a step forward. Stops. Tries to step back.
Scarlett smiles, sensual, turns around, looks over her left shoulder and, while she holds the drugs high in her right hand, she slaps her left hand on her big, black butt, while she says: "Come, Axel. Give me a hand with THIS!"
Axel drops his glass, roars like a lion, and starts running.
I tackle him, of course; nobody hurts my partner.
One second later, he's kissing the floor. I push his arm up behind his back, making him scream. With my other hand, I show him my Makarov.
"You're killing me? You want money? I don't have cash."
"I'm going to destroy your life like you've destroyed mine. You've taken away my job, my house, my life…", Scarlett says, with a tone that gives me the creeps.
Even now, lying on the ground, with me and the Makarov on top of him, Axel keeps his attitude of Mister Cool: "You can't destroy me. I'm a hav'er. You can't take my company. It's a name. It's a mailbox. The law protects me. Go ahead. Burn my house. It's insured for 150%. I'll make a profit. You can't hurt me. I own the world. I'm invincible. You're jobless. You need to eat, drive a car, use a phone, pay a mortgage. I give you that job. Or I take it away. I own your mortgage, sell you that car, and that food, and that phone. I'm the hav'er. You're the do'er. The more you spend, the more you depend. On me. You can overpower me now. But my real power lies in what I have. What I own. Everybody loves me. Because everybody loves my money. People do anything for money. In the end, I always win."
The leather chesterfields are not suited for our plans. Scarlett does a little scout trip and returns with an office chair with arms. I force Axel to take his jacket and shirt off and put him on the chair. With tyraps, we confirm the joint venture between the seat and the CEO, with the intention of making it a long-lasting relationship.
Axel asks Scarlett: "What happened with your passion? Don't you love me?"
"I hate you with a passion."
"What do you want?"
Axel's eyes flash like mad between Scarlett, the Makarov, and me. He wants to know who pulls the strings.
Scarlett pulls the strings. She takes a rubber band out of her pretty purse and fastens it around Axel's upper arm: "Not too tight? It has to hold the bloodstream, you know, or else it won't give you the kick."
Then she takes her tools and starts the preparation: the powder on a teaspoon, heat it with a lighter until it becomes liquid, suck it up carefully in a syringe, and put the needle in its place. She cleans a spot on Axel's arm with a piece of cotton and a clear liquid from a bottle.
Axel doesn't want this: "I don't want this. Can't we make a deal? Give me a choice?"
Scarlett moves her loving hand through his hair, kisses him on the cheek and says: "Of course we give you a choice. This is a free world. Once you are addicted to our medicine, you have the choice to buy more drugs from us, or you can buy more drugs from us. We have the monopoly here. We're the hav'ers, who have the drugs you'll need. But this one is on the house, Axel, a free sample, to make sure you don't want to live without it anymore. You will become a do'er, Axel. You will do what we want. We want you to live for a loooong time, so you can give us all your money, every day. We'll make you happy, but you're hard to satisfy. You never have enough. You will always come back for more. And your final thoughts will be so happy, when you die of an overdose…"
Axel starts to cry. Scarlett pats his shoulder and says, motherly: "Don't cry, my child. There's nothing to be afraid of. It's all pleasure we give you. There's not even a health risk because we can't afford to lose our happy client, can we? Make a fist, please. That makes it easier to find your vein…"
I add a little pep-talk too: "This is nothing personal, Mister Conklin. It's just business. The deal you offered, to invest in our idea and become the owner of our company, to get all our profit without doing anything at all, it's just not good enough. But we've learnt from your lesson: if we want to be successful, we'll have to develop from do'ers into hav'ers. We have to be patient. It's tempting to hurry and get a bit of your money right now, but it's much better to be patient and take everything you have, little by little, shot by shot. We give you no choice. Like you gave the do'ers no other choice but to work. The working class is addicted to survival. They need to eat, a house and clothes, and they'll never have enough. Like junkies, they depend on what you have to offer. You sell them happiness.
» But you're like them. You want to be happy too. Happiness is amazing. Once you've experienced genuine happiness, you'll want more. Unhappiness is a terrible disease. We have the cure: drugs. We'll give you, for free, a great sample of happiness, until you can't live without it, and you'll call us, day after day, hour after hour, and you'll give us all your money, and you'll do everything you can, in exchange of the great feelings we'll give you in return. We know you. You never have enough. Then we'll raise the prices and lower the rewards like you and your friends do with the working class. You'll make us rich. We're not going to punish you, Mister Conklin. We're going to make you happy."
With all his force, Axel tries to break loose, but it's too late and the plastic tyraps are much stronger than his untrained muscles. He hurts himself and gives up: "Why? What have I done to deserve this?"
"Miss Scarlett worked in the wood business. She was lost in a forest, all alone, chasing a dream that was never there. For profit, for survival, to make a living, she started cutting the trees. But suddenly, she stopped. She heard your voice, calling her name. The sound was deep, in the dark. Your voice told her: you're fired! Fire and wood, it's a dangerous combination… She started to run, but suddenly she realised she was running towards nothing. It wasn't a job she needed. She needed to be happy. We all need to be happy. There's no need to work for happiness. If you own the business, others will do all the work and give the fruits of their effort to you. Scarlett wanted that too. She had a brilliant plan: sell happiness, direct happiness, in pills and bottles and powder, even in injections. It goes directly into the blood, straight to the heart, and then it takes the fastest route to the brain, where we experience all our feelings. She didn't need you as an investor; she needed you as a client. You're the perfect client, you know. You don't work, so you can be high all day, and you have all the money to pay for it. And you're never satisfied either, so you'll buy more and more and more, order again and again and again and again and again and again and again…"
Scarlett has the last word: "You'll never be alone anymore, my dear Axel. We'll stay with you until the end, the happy end of death by an overdose. You will love me because I'm the one who makes all your wild wet dreams come true."
There's nothing left of Mister Cool. The everything-under-control attitude has disappeared among the trees of the jungle, where drug addicts, at first sight, gaze with amazement at the beauty. But then they get lost. The girl was never there. Panic takes over. There is no better cure against what you did to others than living the same experience yourself. It's a great experience: he shivers and shakes, can't control his body anymore. He screams, cries of pain, of torture, of knowing he entered a maze without hope of escaping. The only escape is to follow the example of Prince, Kurt Cobain, Brian Jones, Elvis, Jimi Hendrix, River Phoenix, Chet Baker, Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger, Sid Vicious, John Belushi, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Ike Turner-who-couldn't turn, George Not-At-His-Best, Amy Wine-house, Whitenose Houston, Bon Scottch… Happily ever afterlife…
Scarlett lifts the needle, taps it to get the bubbles of air out, and injects the needle into his swollen vein: "Boys don't cry, Axel. Be happy. We'll make you high. You'll be higher than all your golf friends. Just stay close to me and everything will end just fine."
"NOOOO!"
Scarlett watches me, question marks on her face.
"He never gave you a second chance…", I say.
"Please. A second chance. I do everything you want.", Axel cries.
"Can you give me my job back?", Scarlett asks.
"I give you a better job: head of my import and export division. Monthly salary of 100.000 euros. Guaranteed bonus of 5 million. Grows up to 20 million according to the result. Just play golf with rich foreigners and make them sign a contract."
"I've heard that before, Axel. I don't like golf. I like to hit creeps like you with a golf club.", Scarlett jibes.
I try to be reasonable: "Violence will not solve anything, Scarlett. If you don't mind, I might have an alternative for Mister Conklin. It's about time he starts doing something. If he doesn't want you to give the injection, he will have to give an injection by himself, a financial injection, every day, into the bank account of TECK, which stands for Treatment of Excessiveness, Centre of Krakow. It's a clinic where voluntary patients go to cure their addiction to drugs or alcohol. You will, from now on, pay for the costs of the treatment and therapy of one patient, until she is clean and clear, and you help her get a job and a house in a place where she can stay out of trouble. When that patient is clean, you adopt another patient, and after that, another one. And that's not all. You will convince all your friends at the K.G.B. to do the same."
"I can't do that…"
"Yes, you can. You guys are the first ones who have to go to that centre: you are addicted to money. Your addiction causes tremendous problems to the rest of the world. It's about time you start to take your responsibility. It's about time that the hav'ers start doing something. And they better start doing something good, something for others."
"I can't tell others how to spend money. I can't force them like you force me."
"Yes, you can. I'm going to give you a present. It's a video on which seven horny millionaires all confess how they want to invest in a company that, without any doubt, wants to sell drugs on the street. You can show the video to all your friends, or I will show that video to the police. Guess who's interested? One patient each. We start with my friend Anja. She wants to change her life as much as she wants to work for breakfast. She deserves a second chance. You're going to give her that chance. It will give you something to do, it will keep you away from the other money junkies at the K.G.B. and it will, in the end, make you feel proud to be a man who gives something back for all the privileges the world has given you."
Axel looks at the needle, dangling on his arm. He looks at Scarlett, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest. He looks at me. He looks down. He looks inside himself.
"You're right. I'm sorry. You have a deal. If you want anything on paper…"
"This button on my jacket is a camera. I have everything on video. Your word is enough, but one word from me or Scarlett is enough to release hell on you and your friends."
"Hell is not necessary. You've taught me a lesson. I will never forget."
"I'll make sure you'll never forget.", Scarlett says. She takes the little plastic bag with the remainder of the sugar powder and staples it to the wall, right in the centre of the antique oil painting above the fireplace.
"Tomorrow morning, nine o'clock, you'll be on the terrace of Café Curva in the centre. The girl who places the tables and chairs on the terrace is Anja. You present yourself, you tell her you're sent by an angel, you offer to take her to the clinic, and you tell her you'll pay for the costs of her treatment. Promise her a job as an art designer at one of your companies. You won't regret it. We've seen her work, on the walls of Jungleland. She's creative and has talent. Anja will help you find others who deserve a second chance. Before the end of next week, each of your friends has his own protégé. You publish the project on the K.G.B. website, so I can see what you're doing. For each new patient you take in, you send her phone number or her email address to Scarlett. Here's her phone number. She will contact every patient to ask if everything goes as we agreed. She will contact the TECK too, to check on you."
"Anja. Tomorrow. Nine o'clock. Café Curva. Okay."
My last question is for Scarlett: "Are you satisfied? Or do you want to give him a shot?"
She looks at my Makarov, she looks at Axel, and says: "I've had enough for tonight. If Mister Conklin would be so kind to tell his driver to open the gate…"
"He takes you home in the car. If you like."
"We walk. I have a lot to think over."
I object: "But… It's almost 10 kilometres to Krakow…"
"I have nothing else to do. I'm without a job, you know."
* * *
Scarlett does what she said: the full walk home, over two hours, on high heels, she is quiet, thinking. Several cars honk when they pass us, two stop and ask if we want a ride, but she shakes her head and walks on.
When we reach the first houses of Krakow, I see a bar: "I fancy a beer. We've missed dinner, we didn't even accept the drink Axel offered us, and I think we deserve a reward for completing our mission. What do you think?"
"I think we're not done yet. We've just started. We're going to take revenge to the next level."
"What level is that?"
Scarlett looks at me without expression: "Who's the one everybody complains about? Who's the criminal in every story we've heard so far? Who's stealing without giving anything back? And I'm not talking about one company or even a group of companies. No, I'm talking about organized national crime, about stealing from the poor and giving to the rich. We're going after the taxman."
"Before beer o'clock? Or after?"
"After, of course. Do you think they sell that Belgian Kriek here?"
"If they don't, we take one for the road and walk on to the House of Beer. Are you tired yet?"
"Tired, no, but I should change shoes before we go on. Let's see if you can cross two streets on those high heels I've been walking on for already two hours."
That's my partner. She always wants me to share the fun.