Mephistopheles
I wasn’t really on a recruiting trip. I had merely returned to check on a few clients whose time was running short. Twenty four years seems like a long time, but as the end approaches, even the most cocksure arrogant bastards begin to crumble. Most end up the same - kicking and screaming, begging for just one more month. It’s those sorry asses that I take the most pleasure in delivering to the fiery conclusion. Satan himself presides over their destination. Dante described it as a frozen wasteland. Boy, was he wrong!
Some of the recruits seal their fate long before the deadline nears. The really greedy ones often overreach the prescribed limits and end up suffering for their avarice at the hands of law enforcement. They seem to think I’ll come to their rescue. That is not part of the contract. I never intervene; in fact, I rather enjoy watching them suffer. Yes, we do have access to cable news networks and follow them regularly. Traits within their character surface and doom them to answer for actions which often stun me. A truly evil human needs no contract with me to qualify for eternity being lapped up by the whims of Satan. And let me tell you, his imagination runs to the sadistic. Bernie Madoff isn’t going to enjoy the last few years of his contract in prison, but when I go to his cell to retrieve him, he will no doubt beg to remain incarcerated. Roger Stone may get a Presidential pardon, but soon afterward his suffering will be far beyond what any federal facility is allowed to inflict. One of my prizes, Adolph Hitler, came to the end of his appointed time with hope of striking a deal. He offered all the treasures confiscated from the Jewish in return for just one more month. The bastard cheated me by committing suicide before I could complete the retrieval. I definitely enjoy bringing my accounts to the gates for their introduction to suffering more than I do recruiting them initially. Even I need a little joy in my life.
One of my favorite places to pass the few hours of relaxation that fit into my schedule is by the lake in Central Park. Amid the chaos of doing business in New York, it allows for recharging energy and retraining focus. I was enjoying the late morning sunshine when a young well-dressed man sat on the other end of the bench. At first this intrusion went unnoticed, but before long it became obvious that he was not to be ignored. He looked over the paper and pretended to read as if sizing me up. “You’re that Mephistopheles guy, right?” He put down the National Inquirer and turned to face me. I could not place him, but there was a degree of familiarity. The moment he opened his mouth I knew why. His father was one of my trophies. He smiled the family smile - actually more of a sneer. Without any introduction or pleasantries, he began.
“I knew you immediately. You’re just as my father described and he pointed out exactly where you were sitting when he first made contact. You must be a creature of habit.” Without pausing to take a breath he continued, “I understand that you have unique talents. Twenty years ago the big T, as we call Dad, sought you out because of a series of business failures, a couple of costly divorces, a number of civil suits and a general thirst for success where it had been elusive. The contract fulfilled his dreams and he still has four more years.” He checked his watch and adjusted his tie. “Listen, I have a lunch appointment with Rudy; I understand he’s another of your clients. He just got back from the Ukraine and a side trip to Moscow, and he claims to have some invaluable dirt.”
I had to interrupt him at this point. He was name dropping and I could not resist my chance to outdo his weak ass attempts. “Yes, Rudy loves to brag about those connections, but he was really humbled when he found out that Vladimir was also one of mine.” I leaned back and my tail popped out. I got it corralled before he noticed; an attractive young jogger happened by, and his attention wavered. “Since it seems you are pinched for time, let me go over the contract and call to your attention the main points and the small print.”
“Don’t need the introduction - got it all from the big T. And let me tell you, my aspirations far outreach those of rigging elections, marrying an exotic model or two who can’t speak English, screwing strippers and Playboy bunnies, owning golf courses where I can declare as many mulligans as I want, and never having to reveal my income taxes. I want all those things plus friends and subordinates who will not turn on me when the media exposes the lies and half-truths.”
I could not suppress the smile, but again he was distracted; a cop on horseback paused not far from the bench. He buried his face in the paper as if the cop might be interested. I fumbled in my pocket and brought out the contract. “Remember that the twenty-four years of power requires that when it expires, your soul be forever ravaged at the whims of Satan. There is no opportunity to renegotiate. If your actions are illegal you assume the responsibility of answering to whichever law enforcement group has precedence; but remember that the power you wield makes it difficult for authorities. Bend the rules; don’t get caught breaking them is the advice I give all new recruits.” He did not acknowledge. His attention was fixed on a pair of young lovers passing by. She was stunning.
I cleared my throat to regain his attention. He put down the Inquirer and leaned in close. I dug out the pocket knife. “When I prick your finger, sign here in your blood.” My right index finger moved accordingly until it rested on line 39. I noticed he paled and a blank expression overspread his face.
“You sure that my marker pen won’t do.” He reached into his suit coat and produced a Sharpie. “I…I’m a little, ah, paranoid of needles and things that hurt.”
I muffled a laugh. He was not the first client to express such a fear. Bring pain to others but demonstrate no ability to endure the slightest discomfort oneself seems to be universal. “Not an option, unfortunately a little prick is required.” I mused at the irony in my choice of words.
He hid a shiver. My thoughts reverted to his father and how he had attempted to get a passing homeless man to extend his hand as a substitute. Offered him a wad of cash and a red baseball cap. When that failed, the big T tried to divert my attention, but I’ve seen it all. Finally he succumbed, but his signature was the smallest I’ve witnessed and nearly illegible.
“Get it over with.” He turned his head away. The pleasure that sticking his finger and seeing a drop of blood appear cannot be understated. “This better be worth all the pain. Usually bribes or threats get the desired results, but from my father’s experience I believe your power is more effective.” I got a warm rush through my being. The extent of the damage he can do in twenty-four years is hard to guess. If he follows his father’s example, the results will be devastating. How those who profess to be Christian and flaunt their devotion can support someone so corrupt brings a smile to my boss’ face. He thrives on hypocrisy.
He folded the contract, slid it into his coat pocket and rose. “You’ll be reading about me in the Washington Post…no doubt I will be featured regularly.” He gave me a nod and sauntered away. Twenty-four years from now he won’t be so cocky.
My day was complete. The boss would be pleased with the results. I enlisted another member of the elite; many of them wish to further enrich and empower themselves without concern of the eventual outcome or the impact on others. Well, I’m in New York; time for a Manhattan.
The sun was beginning to fall below the skyscrapers and the joggers were abandoning their efforts. The drink warmed me and allowed for time to reflect. My clients are inevitably humans who have talents and have established success in business, politics or other endeavors. They rarely hesitate when I go over the rules and never do they back out. Hardly ever am I approached by someone of lesser stature; they seem to be satisfied with their place in society. But, yes, I have had failures. My time in Omaha could not land Warren Buffett and Bill Gates has been particularly elusive. The boss doesn’t understand that goodness does exist in some successful people. He tried for years to land Gandhi and he had an unhealthy obsession with Mother Teresa, but that was just a lot of time and effort wasted. Neither wavered.
Enough reflection. Time to get a cab to JFK. Got an overnight flight to London. Some conservative MP requested a meeting. He is supposed to be a rising star, but with a name like Boris he’s got a major hurdle to overcome. That’s where I come in.