[Short Story] - A revolutionary product

“Are you trying to play me?” Ray looked me in the eyes and his four men pointed their guns at me. “I’ll only ask you once, then I’ll stop being nice. Where’s the stuff?”

“You’re looking at it.” I shrugged.

“What do you mean I’m looking at it?” He reached into the briefcase I had brought and pulled out a moist white cloth then wiggled it through the air. “Does this look like a revolutionary product to you?” He waited a while for an answer but I just stared him directly in the eyes. He then turned around to his colleagues and asked them the same question, to which they all shook their heads no. “Of course it doesn’t. It’s fucking baby wipes!”

“Alright, alright!” I needed to buy myself time–I didn’t want to ruin the grand product reveal I had envisioned. “Jeez! You people have no sense of humor. It’s in my car, okay? You got the money?” I tried to reestablish the situation.

“Listen, you don’t get to ask questions around here, okay?” He signaled two of his men to go find my car then wiped his forehead with the wet wipe. “The only question right now is if I’ll kill you quick or not.” I tried keeping a straight face but when I saw his pupils suddenly dilate, I couldn’t help but smile the widest I ever have in my entire life. “What are you smiling at?” He wanted to act tough but I could tell he was already tripping hard–his eyes turned vacant and his head was wobbling side to side. “What did you do to me?”

“Told you it was right there.” I chuckled.

“What? How?” It looked as if his body liquefied and spilled over his leather armchair. His comrades didn’t know what to do–await his command or just shoot me on spot. “What did you give me?” I had to try really hard to understand him because he babbled really badly.

“Relax. It’s acid.” I laughed. “You kind of screwed yourself up because you wiped your forehead with it.”

“How? How?” He hardly even moved his lips.

“Monday. Same place, same time.” I spoke boldly–I knew I had full control of the situation.

He tried answering me but instead started laughing uncontrollably. I looked at his two accomplices and they nodded–the meeting was arranged.

Just outside the safehouse I found the other two accomplices of his who were sent to find my car.

“If you two pulled your heads out of your asses for a second, you’d know I screwed you over by now. I took a bus to Lensington’s then walked.” They weren’t as fond of my joke as I was and I could see them seething with anger. I didn’t stop in my path and proceeded to walk away. “Well, I’m done for today, so I’ll see you Monday.”

Back home I called my employer and told him the deal was taking place on Monday. He confirmed to wire the money as soon as it was done.

Come Monday Ray was in a far better mood–I had a product he was very much interested in.

“How does it work?” He asked when I placed the briefcase in front of him same as last time.

“If I told you, you could start making it on your own and I’d lose my cut.” I chuckled, but Ray and his accomplices didn’t find my humor amusing. I sighed loudly to let them know I was joking, then walked over to the briefcase and picked up the pack of wet wipes, careful not to touch the damp cloth. “Have you ever heard of a chemical called DMSO?” I walked over to one of his accomplices and offered him a wet wipe. He waited until Ray nodded it was okay for him to take it, then pulled one out of the pack. He didn’t know what to do with it, so I showed him to place it on his arm anywhere. “Dimethyl sulfoxide.” I walked over to the next of Ray’s men and offered him a wipe also. “A chemical capable of passing through your skin straight into your bloodstream.” Ray approved for another of his accomplices to take the wet wipe. “Best of all? It can take any chemical you want with it.” I walked over to the last two of his men and offered them a wipe also. “LSD, morphine, heroine, you name it. Needles and scars are a thing of the past, friends.” Ray approved for them both to take a wet wipe as well and they both placed them on their arms. “The only downside to it is a slight garlic odor and subtle garlic taste in your mouth, as I’m sure you’ve all experienced, but other than that, perfect.” I made my way back to the table and placed the pack of wet wipes in front of Ray.

“How hard is it to get ahold of this?” He leaned forward in his chair toward the table and pulled out a wet wipe for himself but held it with the tips of his fingers–he wanted to talk more before he got high.

“Easy. Any chemist has full clearance and it’s not on the list of controlled substances.” I got carried away and told too much – I had made myself disposable. “And all you have to do is just mix the DMSO with the drug.” Having told too much already, I tried fixing the situation by telling him everything and reassuring him it was okay to apply that wipe already–his colleagues were already bummed out in their chairs.

Still carefully observing the wet wipe, he nodded in approval. “Why wouldn’t I just kill you right now, then?”

I could feel my heart skip a beat. I had made the mistake of telling too much too soon. “Because I have full clearance for everything you need to make heroin.” I could tell he liked what he heard. “And I can make it.” We both smiled–not only would he not kill me, he would have wanted me to work for him.

He pointed at the wet wipes and offered me to take one for myself, which I did. He then pointed to an armchair beside him and I gladly took a seat.

As if holding a glass of liquor, he held the wet wipe high. “Here’s to a fruitful relationship.”

“To getting the entire world high.”

We tipped the wet wipes as if they were drinks, then rolled up our sleeves and applied them on the inner side of our forearms and lay back in the armchairs.

I pretended being high for roughly a minute, then carefully removed the wipe and stood up from the seat.

Ray, already heavily intoxicated, asked what I was doing. “You see, Ray, it’s just as I told you. The DMSO carries anything you give it straight into your bloodstream. Last time it was only acid, and today it was a little ricin along with it.” I could see him wanting to reach around his back for his gun but failing miserably–he could hardly move his limbs at all.

“H-how?”

“Synthetic rubber.” I peeled off the clear coat of rubber from my arm as if it were an additional sleeve–the expression on his face was priceless.

“Now smile for the camera, will you?” I pulled out my phone and moved backwards enough to get all of them on the picture.

With my mission done, I put on my butyl rubber gloves I had hidden away in a concealed compartment of my briefcase and carefully picked up all the wet wipes from their arms, and threw them in my briefcase not to leave any evidence behind.

I left the premises with no difficulty at all–the rest of Ray’s guards hadn’t had the slightest idea about what had happened.

As soon as I was out of their view, I sent the picture to my employer and he wired the money to my accounts. I checked all of them and made sure all the money was there, then disposed of the phone.

On my way home I couldn’t quiet down my thoughts. On one hand I had promised my wife killing Ray was my last job but on the other I was too good at it to stop–and I enjoyed it, too. I couldn’t lie to her even if I tried and I knew she wouldn’t stay if I didn’t retire. It was either her or my job.

Standing in front of my house I had decided.

I would wire her some money but I wouldn’t quit.