The Path to Mephistopheles, Caspar Ambrose [books to get back into reading .TXT] 📗

“If you will just take a seat Mr. Thornburg, Mr. Stalls will be right with you.”

The girl was cute, the secretarial type, a good smile and the right personality but different than the last one. Just as the proprietor of the office had put a different girl in that position every two years for the past ten years since he had known the good doctor. It seems even the caretakers were not without their own set of sexual proclivities. No matter the reason, he didn’t care to speculate. He would do as he always had when he entered the place and take his spot in the second chair of the first row.

Not caring to look at the dull interior decorating job he grabbed the latest issue of National Geographic, out of all the magazines it had the most interesting of pictures and he would never read the articles, merely flip through the pages. He would usually make it three quarters through before he would be called into the office. Most of the pictures failed to capture his attention anyhow, bland photos of naturalistic landscapes. One picture made him stop upon stumbling on it. It was of a child soldier, most likely Sudanese, standing with AK-47 at the ready. His eyes were cold and unrelenting, the eyes of a broken and battle hardened man, though the child couldn’t be more the twelve or thirteen.

The irony behind the photo was not lost upon him as he turned the page. A photo of a child, made early into a man, posted in a magazine for soccer moms to lament upon as doctors figured out which pills their children should be loaded with. The fact that just a few hundred years ago they would have been the same parents sending their child to battle merely to drum to their death was also not lost upon Thornburg as he thumbed through the pages. It was fascinating what a mere few hundred years of monetary and resource driven progress could accomplish for a society.

The rest of the pictures he looked at failed to elicit thoughts worth pursuing. Luckily just as he had predicted, Stalls arrived three quarters through the magazine. He closed on a picture one of Humpback whales rising from the water.

“Pleasant day as usual Thornburg?” the man spoke as Thornburg passed by. He was a sharp looking young man, his suit and glasses accentuating the academic aura which he so naturally projected. The man was not quite six feet tall and, Thornburg guessed by his slender athletic build, quite in shape.

“Of course doc,” Thornburg allowed the doctor to move to the front and lead the way down the hall to his office.

Thornburg hated psychologist’s offices. Bland and, as a general rule, trite they usually were. This one proved no different as it had the numerous other times he had walked through over the past ten years.

The walk from the lobby to the office was short, and the routine which had been set during previous visits applied now. Thornburg walked to the seat in front of the desk and took a seat, not bothering to remove his jacket, but instead settling for unbuttoning it as is custom. The doctor went to his place behind the desk and sat, not bothering with any folders or paperwork, there was no need for that with this client. After sitting for a brief moment in silence, both men contemplating the other, the doctor would begin.

“Two more years Thornburg,” said the doctor. “I assume you have a few more stories of moral ambiguity?”

Thornburg gave a slight chuckle at the doctor’s choice of wording. Moral ambiguity was putting the situation lightly. “If anyone ever finds out what has been happening, the stockyards will be all that await you.”

“Patient confidentiality fortunately protects me from reporting your activities.”

“Don’t let yourself be deluded Stalls,” Thornburg pulled a polished gold cigarette case from his jacket. Pulling one out for himself and then handing the case to the doctor, who before accepting the case, had pulled an ashtray from his desk and opened the window behind him. “They have a special place in hell for the morally bankrupt academics.”

Stalls chuckled slightly at the man’s remark. “I suppose your right on that account. The world would not think too highly if this little experiment of ours got out.”

“You mean experiment of mine,” Thornburg tapped the ash from his cigarette into the tray before continuing. “You are merely the observer of what I have set into motion.”

The doctor took a moment to quietly observe his friend before himself tapping the ash from his cigarette then turning his chair towards the window.

“You seem to be surer of yourself since our last visit. You were having doubts about this little experiment of yours. I can only assume that either something has finally snapped or that you have finally found the answers to the questions you were seeking.”

“How do you suppose that I’ve found the answers when the questions eluded me from the start?” Thornburg shook his head. “No, I’ve merely come across a curb in the road which perplexes me at the moment, one which you will find quite amusing.”

“It’s a rare day that I hear of you having problems. You’re not choking now are you?”

Thornburg took a moment to think on his cigarette, his eyes moving from the man across the desk to the open window behind him. Out of all the offices in the world he had been in, this one held his favorite of all views. Even through the medium sized window the view of the San Francisco Bay was flawless.

“In one of the National Geographic’s in your lobby, there’s a picture of a child soldier,” Thornburg said.

“Not getting sentimental on me now.”

“Every two years for the past ten years I’ve been offering contracts as you know,” Thornburg put out his cigarette. “I was merely speculating that I should try someone enslaved next. They might go down easier than the past one.”

“Has something happened Harry? Have you raised someone’s suspicions?” Stalls looked concerned as he said this. “It wouldn’t do to have my study cut short.”

“I’ve found a woman Richard.” Thornburg spoke this distastefully. “The cunning creatures they are.”

“Though this is an interesting development in your personal life, I don’t see what this has to do with your project.”

“Because she started out as a contract,” Thornburg rose from his chair and walked to the window. “I found her about to jump of the big bridge in jolly old, so I offered her a contract. I gave her the same set of instructions that I’ve given the rest. I offer them the chance for unlimited wealth for two years. At the end of those two years she, as the others, was informed that her life would be mine to dispose of. She started out like the rest, the first few months was spent living the life they never had. But she diverged from the rest during the second year, instead of falling into desperation and mourning the happiness that wealth failed to bring them, she instead has spent her time and money pursuing me, a tactic that has seemed to work.”

Stall’s had turned his chair and was now facing Thornburg directly in the eye. An interesting predicament his friend now found himself in indeed. He had become fascinated with the man, offering these contracts to people, like a modern day stealer of souls. The man had obviously been searching for something when he set about this mission. Maybe this was a breakthrough or an answer that he had been looking for.

“Well what are you waiting for, sit down and spit it out, you know the routine,” Stalls pulled a bottle of scotch from the desk along with two glasses and poured a liberal amount for both men, knowing it was going to be a long session. The few times he saw his friend he would call him in at the end of the day for this very reason.

Thornburg took one last moment to look at the Bay then turned towards his seat, procuring another cigarette from the case and taking the glass offered to him before taking his seat. He lit his cigarette and took a drink from the glass, then began the story.

The weather was bleak as usual in the jolly old, another rainy day across the pond. Thornburg would never understand the love that he had for this place, but for some reason he kept coming back. He found the lot of the people in London to be desirable for his temperament. A calm and collected society that relied on subtlety as much as a strong will. Hard to find people like that anywhere else save for some Asian countries.

This was being proven at the moment as he watched a lovely blonde in a bright summer dress walking dangerously close to the edge of the London Bridge. Her blue dress contrasted greatly with the gloominess of the day, and even with the somber expression held on her couldn’t damper the brilliance of the color.

Thornburg watched as he took a drag on one of a handful of spliffs he had purchased in Piccadilly Circus. He had seen that look before, watched it on the face of a man as he jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge while Thornburg was stuck in traffic on route to a friend. It was the last look some people had on their face as they took the final plunge to the afterlife.

The woman stood on the edge of the guardrails and began to climb up. The keep calm and carry on attitude ever present in the people around her as they walked by, most pretending not to notice, and the few people that did paid little more than a seconds worth of attention. The woman turned around for one last time, a look of disdain on her face as she gave one last internal smite on the world she wished to leave. But Thornburg noticed something in her demeanor that caught his eye, a strength that it seemed had been beaten down by whatever drove her to her current despair. It was enough to spur Thornburg into movement. It was exactly what he was looking for.

His movements were quick, he had no idea just how fast this woman was trying to leave this world but, he estimated he had less than a minute to make contact. The spliff went into the ashtray of the DB9 he drove when in London. He was out the door and walking across the street before the smoke fully cleared, hoping he would arrive before she made the jump. It would be close, she was already on the other side of the railing about to let go.

“Before you jump it would be a shame to see that beautiful dress go to waste,” he didn’t care how weird it was. If he could just get her to turn around for a second he knew he had her. His offer was too good for someone in her position to turn down.

It worked she turned for just a second with a menacing glare that didn’t match the beautiful features of her face. “What do you want creep?”

Her accent revealed she wasn’t English. It was more of an upper New York accent but Thornburg couldn’t quite place it. He