Page 82 of Seth
Ignaz spentthe followingdays in a half-dazed trance. Even without the sedatives Seth slipped into his tea, he slept a lot. It gave Seth plenty of time to print the pizzeria’s sticky logos and re-color his van, steal a barrel of sulfuric acid from his glass factory, and buy ropes, hardware tools, and a shovel.
Seth ordered a pizza. He grated some cheese and mixed it with a decent amount of sleeping powder before putting it into the oven.
By the time the oven dinged, he’d changed into a red polo shirt, white cotton gloves, and a baseball cap. Grabbing the dangerous treat, he disappeared into the basement.
* * *
Dusk clearedthe streetsof ever-present kids as most families gathered around dining tables to share their meals.
Seth was hungry too, but not for food. He glanced around and pressed the intercom button. A soft click reached his ears. His throat tensed as he prepared to speak.
“Yes?” a dry, male voice came from the speakers.
“Delivery,” Seth rustled.
“I didn’t order anything.”
Seth crumpled the paper, read the address aloud, then said, “It’s already paid. Are you taking, or am I throwing it?”
The door beeped. Seth pulled it open and entered a narrow lobby. Mold stunk up the staircase, making him hold his breath. He lowered the baseball cap as he climbed the stairs.
He halted on the third floor. A man in his late twenties stood in the doorway. With one hand, he rubbed his rounded belly; his other hand manipulated a toothpick in his mouth. “What is it?”
“Pizza,” Seth rustled as he thrust the box forward. “Sign here, please.”
The man accepted, snorted as he read his address on the order sheet, then scribbled something and returned the paper.
“Don’t wait for a tip.” He turned around and kicked the door, toes sticking out from the holes in his sock.
Seth thrust a thin metal plate between the door and the strike plate. The click sounded. He grabbed the handle and carefully tugged the door into the frame. With an exhale, he let go. The door stayed put. He stepped away, turned, then rushed downstairs. On his way out, he stuck a stone between the street door and the magnetic frame, then hopped into the van and drove away.
Ten minutes later, parking next to the river, he changed into a leather jacket, torn jeans, and black steel toe boots. It took him another ten minutes to get rid of the pizza delivery stickers from the sides of the van. When he drove back, the sun had already hidden behind the horizon.
The streets stood empty as he parked in front of the same apartment building. Fischer’s windows emitted a steady yellow light, and not a single shadow roamed behind the curtains. He got out, entered the building.
The door on the third floor opened with a push. The metal plate fell off and clanged against the wooden planks. Seth licked his lips as he pulled a stun gun out of his pocket.
He crept along the wall, then entered a living room. On the old couch, the man slept with his belly sticking out from under the hem of a sleeveless white shirt. On the chair opposite him, a kid who looked no older than seven slept with his knees hugged to his chest. In his tiny fist, he clutched a slice of pizza, cheese dripping on the floor. Seth pushed another door open. In the kitchen, a woman slept, her blonde head resting on the counter.
Seth returned to the living room and glanced around. Hitler’s portrait hung on the wall above the TV. A shabby rug lay on the floor below the low coffee table. An ashtray on the table still emitted soft smoke, curling up from the unfinished cigar; a smartphone lay next to it. With his gloved hands, Seth patted the man down. Finding nothing, he returned to the corridor, opened the closet, and checked the leather jacket. In the inner pocket, he found condoms, some cash, and a drivers’ license issued to Walter Fischer.
His jaw locked as he turned to the man sleeping on the couch.
* * *
Even though thecamerasinstalled in Seth’s home didn’t cover every nook and cranny, they provided enough visuals to keep Gustavo occupied. He set up another display and connected it to his laptop to keep an eye on Seth even during business calls.
He felt closer to Seth than ever before. Watching him work, he understood his motivation, his goals, and a part of him even grew tolerant to the attentive, obsessive gaze that always returned to his eyes whenever Ignaz was around.
As he watched Seth, Hans gradually melted from his focus. For the last two days, Gustavo had tried to reach the boy many times, but his cellphone kept redirecting all calls to voice mail. Annoyed, he eventually stopped trying, but to his surprise, he didn’t miss him either.
When Seth ordered a pizza without cheese, Gustavo instantly realized the plan. Even before the delivery man knocked at Seth’s door, he had already been driving toward the 22nddistrict.
“It’s like watching a movie,” Diego snorted as he opened the front passenger door and sagged into the seat. Holding a paper cup in each hand, he offered one to Gustavo. The strong aroma of dark-roasted coffee filled the compartment. “Where’s his car? Did he leave?”
“Yes, but he will be back. I don’t think it was poison. He only has one name out of seven. It’s not a murder, it’s a kidnapping.”
“Delicious,” Diego murmured, and Gustavo granted him with a questioning look. “I mean the coffee. The place is tiny but so damn good. Try it.”
