No Contest

“Chill, Sherm. Can I call you Sherm?” Remo put a hand on MacGregor’s shoulder and pushed down just as MacGregor stood up. MacGregor lost that battle. Then Remo adjusted MacGregor’s spine, which stopped functioning. “So, what’s very cool about your game is that it looks just like this place in New Zealand we visited a few days ago.”

Sherman MacGregor was chilled by this little bit of trivia—it frightened him more than the fact that he was now paralyzed below the neck.

“New Zealand’s kind of a stupid place. They have this great scenery and they put in cheesy attractions so visitors can’t see the scenery. I guess they do that everywhere, not just New Zealand. But they had this stupid contest in New Zealand, just like on your game. They have people who climb up a big frozen waterfall, blindfolded. Stupid, right? And the one who gets to the top of the ice floe first is the winner. But we found out something shocking.”

The younger, dark-headed man was talking like a goofball and would have been underdressed even on casual Fridays at the office, but there was something a lot more serious on his face. “Do you want to know what we found out, Sherm?”

The younger man was not acting goofy anymore, and the look on his face was deadly. In those eyes Sherman MacGregor saw the glimmer of destruction. This man was something extraordinary.

“What did you find out?” Sherm asked.

“The contest was rigged.”

“Oh.”

“We were in Australia a week before that. Another stupid contest. And you’ll never believe what we learned.”

Sherm’s mouth was bone dry. “Rigged?”

“Yes. The stupid Australian contest was rigged, too.”

“Don’t forget the shameless unclothed ones,” the old man added.

“That’s right, Sedona. Would you believe they roll down hills, on their backs, in their birthday suits? It’s fascinating for all of ten seconds, and then, yech. But somebody rigged that one, too. A big difference though. Nobody was killed in Sedona.”

The glimmer of destruction flashed in those horrific eyes again, like the beacon of purgatory. “Lots of people died in Australia. A few corpses in New Zealand. Montana was a slaughterhouse.”

“Montana?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember Montana,” Remo blazed. “When you go and snuff out the lives of a dozen odd skydivers, just to give your man the competitive edge, the least you can do is remember the contest.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it. Any of it.” The lie was transparent even to MacGregor. Remo sneered. “I was there. I was a part of that jump, Sherm. I smelled the bodies burning.”

“Let’s talk this over,” Sherm suggested.

“We are talking it over.”

“Could you make it so I can move?”

“Absolutely not. Let’s talk about the Drake Passage. I see your confusion. The Drake Passage is a body of water. If you go out the door, turn south and walk and walk until you can’t walk any more, that’s the Drake Passage. It goes around the tip of South America and a bunch of guys in sailboats took the passage on their way around the world. Another dumb-ass contest. Only somebody started offing the guys who were winning the race, and when they reached guy number 3, somebody got rid of the killers. That somebody was me. Now is it ringing a bell?”

“The Around the World All by Yourself sailboat race,” MacGregor admitted.

“See, I’ve been cleaning up your messes for months.”

“It was the foreman who committed the crimes, not me. He was the one who hired the hit squad to take out the sailboat racers.”

“Explain, Sherm. What was that supposed to accomplish?”

“I wanted the guy in fifth place to win. He was a young guy, real enthusiastic. A go-getter. He was supposed to be on boxes of Extreme Nuggets. But they called the race off. So after that, me and the network, we decided there should be a standard policy that all competitions must continue despite injury or loss of life. Canceling was a big financial hit for everybody.”

“ESN’s not in on your little scheme,” Remo said. “They’re heartless bastards, but they’re not the ones committing murder.”

The accusation had been ready to fly out of MacGregor’s lips—at least ESN could take some of the blame. But these killers already knew the truth. Why was he so helpless? Why wasn’t he fighting back?

Because Sherman MacGregor would do anything to not unleash the destroyer that dwelt like a malevolent spirit in this man. This man knew how to kill in ways MacGregor could only dream of.

“Please take me to jail,” MacGregor said.

“So, is that how you did it? You’d pick a candidate, engineer their victory, then recruit them? Wouldn’t you get them for less if you struck a deal before they won?”

“Didn’t want to be associated with them prior to the win. Didn’t want it to look like I had foreknowledge. Don’t I get my rights read to me?”

“Who’s the foreman?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know his name. He’s a free agent. He claims he’s never been caught. I was in Mexico City hiring mercenaries and he approached me. All I have is a phone number.”

Chapter 40