The Oligarch (Robert Martin Book 1) Read online

  “You should have some,” I said to Kristina, “Then you can finally shut up about my drinking.”

  “I hate drinking and I hate drunks.”

  “Tell me who this guy is? Isn’t he coming home soon.”

  “He’s a big shot, a Hollywood movie man, produces movies. He used to act in them too. But he won’t be back for a while. He’s somewhere in Georgia shooting a film.”

  “And he left you the keys?”

  I took the cap off the bottle and smelled the sweet scent. Then I hammered down a big gulp of it. It felt warm and good going down. She crossed her arms and walked away from me. I walked around the house admiring it all. Charlie would love this house. He’d probably be jealous of this place. And he would probably ask me to take this guy out for having so much. First, Charlie would start by trying to convince me how bad the guy was for society, then give me a speech about the wondrous effects this could have on my life. Crazy Charlie and his paranoia. That’s how he got me to take out my second victim. With his paranoid delusions and speeches. And I believed him. I always believed what Charlie said.

  The second victim, her name was April. Before killing her I asked her why her parents named her April, she said it was because…

  “Hey buddy! You’re reminiscing again. What did I tell about looking too much into the past? Take it easy buddy. Hey, finish your drink and have another one. Go on.”

  I took another gulp. This time it hurt going down and the sushi I had eaten earlier nearly came back up. But I fought it off.

  “That’s what I like to see! You know you’re a real man’s man buddy! Boy, no one can top you. Hey, where’s the girl? Is she still around here? I have a bad feeling about her buddy. I think you should get rid of her. No! Not like that. Don’t kill her. We don’t kill the innocent buddy, always remember that. We only kill the bad guys. And whoever Charlie tells us to! Right, buddy? Hey, I’m just messing with you, but seriously, think about it. Think about how you’re going to get rid of this girl. She knows too much. She knows about the apartment. And you told her about the wife and kids. What’s the matter with you buddy? You got to start pulling yourself together. You don’t want to spill the beans to any old dame that walks through the door. Do you buddy? A real man’s man would never do that.”

  “I didn’t spill any beans. She’s just pleasant, she takes care of me.”

  “Takes care of you? Buddy! That’s why we have the wife and kids. You’re getting too close to her. You need to tell this girl what you really are. Maybe scare her a little bit so she gets the point. We need her out of your life. Hey seriously, where did she go? Go find her. Get rid of her tonight.”

  “Shut up!”

  I drank quickly and wandered around the house looking for her. I found her sitting outside by the patio. I sat with her. She looked in my direction.

  “Do you think I’m pretty?”

  “Yes,” I replied immediately.

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you kiss me?”

  “I did you a favor. You don’t want to be kissing guys like me. I’m a nobody. I’m scum."

  “My boyfriend, the guy who owns this house. He’s scum. You’re nothing like him.”

  “You don’t know what I’m like.”

  “You’re a good man. I know it. Once we get you cleaned up and sober you’ll be good.”

  “You really want to help me?"

  “My father was a drinker. He always came home after work and drank himself to sleep, but he was a good man. My step-mother never tried to help him or tell him to cut back. So, one night I came home, on a Friday night, and found my father passed out on the couch. I thought he was sleeping. But in the morning, my step-mother told me he was dead. By the afternoon she told me I needed to find a new place to stay. She said I was too old to be living with her. That’s when I packed up, took all her jewelry, while she was out celebrating my father’s death, and came out here. A few weeks later I met my boyfriend.”

  “The movie man?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t like him?”

  “No. I don’t,” she said.

  “I wish he was here now. I’d kill him for you.”

  “Stop,” she giggled, “don’t say crazy things like that.”

  “Why not? I charge a lot of money for my work, but for you, I’d do it for free. Anything for you.”

  “Oh! So you’re a hit man now. Stop messing with me like that.”

  I remained silent. We sat on the patio admiring the view of downtown Los Angeles against the night sky. She talked about her father the whole time. I stopped listening after a while and fell asleep on the patio chair.

  12.

  “Hey! Wake up! Who the fuck are you?”

  Someone was shouting at me.

  “What are you doing in my house?”

  Someone with an English accent.

  “How did you get in here?” the shouting continued, “Are you some homeless man? Hey! Wake up! Get off my patio chair. I’m calling the police! You dirty homeless bastard! Makes me wish I was back home. So many of you dirty homeless crawling all over this city like cockroaches. God, I hate this city! Such a filthy place. Are you hearing me? Get up! It’s ringing! The phone is ringing. The cops will be here any minute now.”

  A tall lanky man with bleach blonde hair and a skinny wrinkled face stood over me, holding an iPhone. I opened my eyes. The sun hit the side of my face and blinded me. My back and neck were strained to one side and I could barely move. I noticed the patio chair underneath me. I must have slept here all night. Where was Kristine? The man standing over me continued to shout. I stood up and looked him in the face.

  “Hey! You need to leave now. How did you get in here?”

  I snatched the phone from his hand and tossed it into the pool.

  “Great! Awesome move pal. You will be paying for that! Homeless bastard.”

  I grabbed his chin and mouth and squeezed, he remained motionless.

  “Shut up!”

  I pushed him away and he fell to the ground.

  “Did you just put your hands on me? Do you know who I am? I could have you sued! I could have you in jail! No one touches me!”

  I tried to adjust my back and neck. The pain was unbearable.

  “Where’s Kristine?” I said.

  “Who?”

  “Kristine? Where is she? She said this was her boyfriend’s place.”

  “I don’t know any Kristine’s. Get out of my house.”

  “I’m not leaving without Kristine.”

  He stood up. He was about a foot taller than me. His arms dangled by his side and he had long fingers. He looked to be in his fifties but dressed like a teenager.

  "Blonde, blue-eyed, tall, pretty. Where is she?"

  “Kristine?"

  “From Indiana.”

  “There’s a plethora of blonde and blue eyed girls around here. This is Hollywood. Where the fuck do you think you are? Africa!"

  "She was from Indiana."

  "Indiana? Lots of them come from Indiana, and Colorado, and Wisconsin, Chicago. I run through them nightly. They all leave the same way they came. They go home with their tails between their legs.

  “No,” I said, “this one was special. She had keys to this place.”

  “The only one with keys to this place is me and my agent. And…Now I remember. Mary? You’re talking about Mary. She is a looker, and special too! God, why do I put myself in these situations? Look I don’t know what she told you, but I am not her boyfriend. She is a bit of a nut and you need to leave.”

  “Her name is Kristine. I don't know any Mary’s."

  He went inside the house and minutes later he came out holding a black and white close up photo of Kristine.

  "Is this her?"

  "Yeah that's her."

  "Her name is Mary," he said, "and she's crazy. She might seem special pal, but once you get to

  know her, you don’t want anything to do with her." />
  "Don't say that about her.”

  I'll kill you.

  “Wow! She has you too? You know she had me for a bit with her constant worrying about me. But it all got to be too much. The girl is a bit looney. I would have gotten rid of her a lot sooner if not for the sex. The sex was great. I’d do a line off her ass then take a shot of tequila! Then the knickers would come off and away we went. I bet that’s how she got you too, right? The sex. That body and that face. I tell you, I’ve had the best of the best, but nothing beats a ripe nineteen-year-old.”

  I punched him in the face and he fell back down. Blood was all over his face. He grabbed his nose and looked up at me.

  “Great, now you’ve done it. You did what you came for, now you can leave.”

  “I’m not leaving. Where’s Kristine?”

  “I told you! I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in weeks. And her name is Mary, you idiot,” he chuckled.

  “Where is she!” I asked again.

  He stood up and towered over me. I punched him again and he fell backwards.

  “What was that for?”

  “For trying to call the cops on me. Stand up.”

  I walked inside and retrieved my gun from my jacket pocket. When I returned, the tall man had stood up and was wiping away his nose with a handkerchief.

  “You’re still here? I thought you were gone.”

  “Shut up.”

  I pointed the gun at him and motioned for him to go inside.

  “You’re kidding me. Look, whatever she told you, I told you it’s a lie. The girl is no angel. She has issues. Just look at what she did to me a few weeks ago.”

  He opened up his flabby stomach and showed me several cut marks.

  “I’m just barely healing. She tried to cut me, that crazy bitch. All because I said I had to move on and it was time for her to go. She wouldn’t leave. I offered her money too. Next thing I know she’s grabbing a knife and lunging towards me. I’m just glad it grazed the top skin. For a guy my age, this could have been fatal.”

  “Inside,” I motioned with the gun.

  “Alright, calm down. I’m going.”

  I led him into the living room. He sat on the divan and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Now what? You’re going to shoot me?” he said, “Well, get on with it. I haven’t got all day. I’m a busy man, you know. You really don’t know who I am, do you? Mary never mentioned anything about me? What I do? You don't recognize the face?"

  “She said that you were a movie man.”

  “A movie man? Well, my friend, I happen to be the movie man. You don’t recognize the name James Kelley?”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Really? What about the movie ‘Down and Out in Reno,’ ever heard of that?”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen it. That was one of the first movies I saw inside a theatre. My father took me. That was a good movie. I do recognize you. James Kelley, you’re a British actor.”

  “I was, now I mainly produce movies. Have you seen all the latest superhero movies? ‘Rubber Man,’ ‘Dice,’ Liquid Woman,’ ‘V-Man,’ ‘Red Star Inn?’ I produced all those movies. I’m big time pal. You don’t want to be doing this. Now, if you can put that gun down and walk out, we’ll forget all this ever happened. It’ll be like me and you never met. I’ll change the locks on my door so she can’t get in anymore and you can go about your business.”

  “You should also install a decent security system in this place.”

  “Take you for the input. Now leave.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to make it that easy on you. You should never have said those mean things about Kristine.”

  “Money? You want me to give you money? Alright, how about a thousand dollars? Five thousand? Ten thousand? Twenty-five thousand dollars, cash, right now, just so you can fuck off.”

  “You’re scared of me. A man of your importance shouldn’t be scared of me.”

  James Kelley, the actor and producer, became increasingly scared. His forehead glistened from the sweat and his bottom lip quivered. He was on the verge of crying. I hate it when they cry. When they cry, the image sticks with me. Takes me a long time to shake it off. The best are the ones that take it like a champ, with dignity and honor. Like they’re asking me to do them a favor, send them to God. But I can’t stand the crying.

  “Please,” he muttered.

  I hate the word please. The begging! The endless begging for me to spare them. James knew this was it, this was the end of the road for him. He could sense it in my eyes and in the gun I held in my hand. All the years of buildup and the wonderful career he had accomplished and it was about to end. He never imagined it would end like this. Surrounded by his modern furniture and his modern house, the expensive flat screen TV, and the wonderful paintings on the wall. He was never to see them again and the lights were about to go out. And I desperately wanted to kill the lights and take him out of his misery. I’m not even sure why I was doing it. Perhaps I was having a lousy morning. Maybe it was the pain in my neck. Maybe I needed to kill Bob and bring back Robert Martin. Everyone knows Robert Martin.

  “Please!” he said again, “she’s not worth it. Don’t do this.”

  Kristine, yes I was doing this for Kristine. The foul things he said about her and how he did what he did to her. I couldn’t imagine such a dirtbag doing that to Kristine. She deserved better.

  But I couldn’t do it. My finger wouldn’t budge. Then he began sobbing loudly which made me nervous. I had to calm him down. I had to make him stop.

  “Stop,” I said aloud, “stop with the emotions. I’m not going to do anything to you. Just scaring you, that’s all.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, not now anyway. You can calm down.”

  “Wow, for a minute there mate you really had me going.”

  13.

  He laughed loudly and I laughed with him.

  “Just try and relax. Who could kill James Kelley? You’re a legend, an actor that only comes along once in a generation.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. I can autograph that gun for you, if you like?”

  “This thing? No, I’ll just put this away,” I placed the gun on the coffee table, his eyes glanced down at it, “Let me tell you a little bit about me.”

  I took out a cigarette and offered him one as well. He took it and I lit it for him first before lighting mine. I puffed away and blew the smoke up towards the ceiling.

  “Thank you,” he said, “I haven’t had one of these in twenty years. Nasty things. But they do comfort the soul. Nicotine mixed with a batch if chemicals I’ve never heard of. Kind of ironic, my ex-wife always said smoking would kill me. Now I find you and your little gun in my house. So now I say, fuck my ex-wife.”

  We both laughed.

  “My name is Robert Martin,” I said, “I’m famous too, you know? Ever heard of me?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Why would you? I’m famous down at the very bottom. You’re famous all the way at the top. Everyone knows you, while everyone at the bottom knows me. Some of those folks at the bottom do like me, some of them fear me, but one thing is for sure, they all respect me. If you go down to the Valley, ask them about Robert Martin, everyone will say the same thing. Robert Martin is a good man. But as soon as I move out of the Valley, like making a small trip to Hollywood or other parts of LA or California, suddenly, no one knows who I am. That’s okay, I’m not mad or anything. I just have to be more like you and build my career up. I’m sure you weren’t always famous, right?”

  “No, I wasn’t. At one time, I used to be a poor boy from East London. And I was down at the very bottom, just like you.”

  “See, we’re already starting to find similarities.”

  “We sure are lad,” he cracked a big smile.

  “Anyway, I’m famous for one reason and one reason only – I have certain connections, just like you. The difference being my people are bad people; nasty dirty bastards that would d
o anything to steal a penny. They kill, rape, pillage, defraud, con, you name it. I don’t like that side of the business and I choose to stay out of it – except the killing part, although I have some compassion, unlike my animal associates. But I can’t blame them or criticize them for doing what they do for a living. You have to understand these people. They come from a different world. Take for example, my boss, his name is Charlie.”

  “Foreshadowing,” he interrupted.

  “Excuse me?”

  “This,” he said, “What you’re doing now. The speech, this is what we in the industry call foreshadowing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, it’s like you’re building up the suspense. You should let me write this down, we could use this in a movie or even a television show.”

  “I’ll have to think about it,” I said, “Anyway, Charlie was born in the old country. Where the guy at the very top and his pals control everything. I call them the oligarchs.”

  “Who? Charlie?”

  “No,” I replied, “the oligarchs are the guys at the very top. Pay attention, this is important. Charlie hates the oligarchs. He thinks I do to.

  “Do you?”

  “I don’t think about it much.”

  Liar! You hate them and you’re scared.

  My eyes froze and my entire body followed. I stopped talking. Strange thoughts of the oligarchs standing behind me crept up in my mind. Then James Kelley snapped his fingers.

  “Robert,” he said, “You alright.”

  “Yes,” I said and continued with my story, “Charlie moved to the United States when he was a young boy, so he never actually saw what life was really like back home. He was much too young to remember. But his father knew. And his father told him stories of how bad life was and what the oligarchs did to the people. And over the years, as Charlie became a man, he established connections with men that came from the old country. He spoke the same language as them and helped some of them settle into America. The only difference between Charlie and these new settlers was Charlie being Americanized. He knew what America had to offer and the mentality of the people. He knew when to lay low and when to make noise. Charlie made several powerful connections over the years, and with those connections he formed a circle of loyal friends and followers. Four of these friends became his inner circle. I call them the five brothers, and these five brothers call me up every once in a while, and give me an assignment. It usually involves killing.