Thursday, December 11, 2008

The Black Marketeer

Selling arms to the enemy isn’t strictly legal but war covers over a multitude of sins. The company I was working for was selling to both sides of the market and making a killing.

My wife and I were not given to excess but we lived well in war time, better than most anyway. My extra income meant we had more time together; often we would walk along the beach as the sun went down.

“The clouds are red ribbons.” She was particularly pensive that evening.

“You love ribbons,” I replied, glad she had finally spoken.

There was silence for awhile and then she said suddenly, “Do you ever think of the dead?”

“To be honest I try not too. This is war; people die.”

She was quiet as we made our way back to the car.

I knew what she was thinking and frankly I couldn’t bear the idea that she thought ill of me. We had enough money to make it through the war and so I decided to retire.

The next day I told my boss I was leaving the business. He responded by threatening me, saying that if I ever exposed the racket he would destroy me.

“I just want to retire in peace,” I replied calmly.

I raced home, eager to tell my wife the news.

The front door was open and I heard a burst of gun fire – you can tell a lot about a weapon from its sound.

And she was dead, of course she was dead.

Selling arms to the enemy isn’t strictly legal but war covers over a multitude of sins.
Post a Comment