The Guilty - Jason Pinter [122]
floor and an overturned chair, everything looked like business
as usual. Except for the sprinkles of plaster on the floor. I
looked up, saw the hole in the ceiling where Roberts must
have fired the Winchester.
"I see you asserted your authority," I said. "Guess you
needed to scare all these vicious not-for-profit workers."
"I'm not a fan of violence," Roberts said. He looked at me.
"You seem surprised."
"Considering you've killed about ten people, yeah, I'm
surprised."
"Only killed those people because they needed to go. Same
way you'd burn a tick, step on a spider. Doesn't mean you like
to kill. Means you don't want vermin spreading disease."
"So that's what Athena was doing," I said. "Spreading
disease?"
"I'm not a killer," Roberts said. "I'm a liberator. You can't
see it now. They couldn't see it with my great-grandfather,
either."
"Billy the Kid was no liberator," I said. "He was a butcher
who killed twenty-one people. He should have died in the
womb."
Roberts laughed. "You're fucking clueless, man. The
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country exists because of my great-grandfather. America,
man. Cowboys and Indians. Outlaws and lawmen. The Old
West gave birth to the new world because of men like my
grandfather. He killed the people who impeded progress. The
people who lied and cheated and stole."
"Like Joe Mauser?" I said. "Like Mya Loverne? Like
your family? "
"You don't get it," Roberts said. "You and everyone, ignorance is the new intelligence. Athena Paradis and David
Loverne don't exist. They're shells, Parker. Husks. As soon
as their public life overtook their private life, as soon as who
they were became more important than what they were, they
ceased to exist. People like you, you're happy to stare at the
shell and as long as it's pretty, you don't care what putrid shit
is underneath. My great-grandfather understood this. He was
the only one who had the balls to make things right. He
brought together the Regulators to kill the disease that everyone else ignored. Jeffrey Lourdes? Athena Paradis? All I did
was kill what needed to be killed. You should be thankful. And
you will be. See, to realize my destiny, I had to cut off everything that weighed me down. Soon I'll do the same for you.
Then you can report my story with a clearer head. You're
gonna make me famous, Parker."
He pushed me toward another closed door. Looked at me.
Then pushed the door open.
Amanda was tied to a chair, her hands bound behind her
back. A handkerchief wrapped around her mouth. Her eyes
widened when she saw me. Pleading. Helpless.
"Amanda!" I shouted. Lunged for her. Felt the butt of the gun
come down on the back of my neck, driving me to the ground.
Amanda shrieked as loud as she could. Which wasn't much.
Roberts knelt down next to me. I could feel his breath on
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my face. He smelled like tobacco and sweat. He grabbed my
shirt in his hand, pulled me closer. He was breathing heavy,
and the calm in his eyes had been replaced by a manic anger.
I was sure the eyes I was seeing right now were the same eyes
that killed Athena. Joe. Jeffrey. David. And nearly Mya.
"See, Henry, you're a shell. You're one of them. I know
about you. I know what happened to you last year. I know
about all those reporters who love you, think you're a hero,
and the ones that hate you, think you go against everything
that's noble about your profession. Who you are has become
more important than what you are. I can fix that."
"You can kill me," I said. "But leave Amanda out of this.
Let her go."
"Not on your life," Roberts said. "If you hadn't noticed, I
already let all the other useless ones go. I need Amanda for
this. You can do a whole lot more good than she ever can. You
have a voice. I need that voice to reach people, so they understand what I've done. But you also have a shell. You have a
protective skin. All I'm going to do is remove that skin. I don't
plan to leave this building alive. But neither will Amanda. And
then you'll be free, Henry."
Amanda