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| panda-like calm through fiction | |||||||||
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Coxtopus
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It was raining. Nelson heard a car outside. It was too late for normal visitors. He checked the 8 gauge by the door to make sure there were shells in it and waited just enough to the side that he wouldn’t be directly in the line of fire if anyone tried to shoot through the door.
And he waited. Sharpe had told him that if anyone tried to get in without hammering out shave and a haircut on the door should get both barrels, but then they’d wondered what might happen if the mail carrier had a package, or the paper boy came to collect. So he wasn’t sure what he’d do if the knock didn’t come. There was one solitary knock at the door, and his finger curled around the trigger. In the other room, Clara made a startled noise, but her brother didn’t wake up. Then “and a haircut” pounded into the door, and after another short pause, “two bits.” Nelson unbolted the door, and removed the chain, but he kept the gun at the ready as he looked through the crack. The other man was grinning wide. “Sharpe sent me. I’m a PI. He also warned me about the 8 gauge, and I’d sincerely prefer not to be shot tonight. I carry a 9mm Glock in a shoulder holster. It’s still there, still buttoned in. If you’ll let me push the door open with me foot I’ll enter slowly.” “Are you alone?” Nelson asked, backing away enough to peer from behind the front window shade. “Of course.” “Then come in. But slowly.” The man came in. There was a moment when his smile faded, when he thought Nelson might shoot him, then it came back, brighter than before. “Christ, an 8 gauge looks even bigger than I’d imagined from this end. I’ll take the Glock out and set it on this table, here, if that’ll make you feel safer.” He moved very slowly, took off his coat and laid it across the arm of the couch. Then he unbuttoned his holster, and pinched the butt of the Glock between two fingers and gently set it down. Nelson hesitated. “He’s okay,” Dagney said. She looked worse for wear, but she was standing, and that was something- though without the doorframe to her bedroom propping her up she likely would have been falling. Nelson lowered the shotgun. The PI walked slowly over to him and offered his hand. “Doug McLafferty- it’s not my real last name, I was just a stitch in high school.” “I didn’t think we’d see you for a while,” Dagney said, before adding, “I need to sit down.” She waddled to a big recliner and plopped down. “You wouldn’t have. As a rule, I stay away from cases with a guarantee of pointless violence. In fact, I’d canceled a few lower key jobs because I was mulling a vacation through wine country.” The glint in his eye reminded her of Sharpe, and how Doug had taken him on a tour of wine country after his divorce, which was, “just a gentleman’s euphemism for a bender.” “But they put a bomb in my crapper, activated by weight. Thank Christ I’m an old man, and shit like a parakeet, in tiny little pellets. And when I noticed there was no splish splash, I got curious. I can’t believe they tried to Lethal Weapon me to death. I mean I’d always wanted to be Letha Weaponsed to death, which might be an honest mistake, but this was sinister and hackneyed.” Dagney cocked her head to the side. “Lethal Weaponed? Like where they tie you down and force you to watch all four movies until your brain commits suicide?” “Letha Weapons. Adult film actress, tig old bitties.” He gave her a drunken sailor’s lecherous grin that made her wish she hadn’t asked. “Knowing that whoever Sharpe had pissed off enough to want me dead was obviously no longer of the opinion that I was tangential and nonthreatening wasn’t likely to leave me alone now, I set about to work. Dagney’s been involved with a subset of businesses this year that all led back to companies owned or held or subsidized by Cox Industries. The company is owned almost entirely by brothers Bruce and Scott. Their companies span multiple industries, including oil, paper, medical and chemical. They also control all of the media outlets associated with the Cox News Corporation. Annual revenues are guestimated at around a hundred billion dollars a year, and I suspect that’s a lowball figure. They’re the modern day equivalent to a J. P. Morgan or Rich Uncle Pennybags- that’s the name of the Monopoly guy, and I never knew he had a name until the internet.” “They also operate and fund most of the country’s libertarian organizations. This was cynically dubbed the Coxtopus by other libertarians, because the idea that all libertarian groups were beholden to two brothers was anathema to their cause. Savvy business journalists later applied the term to the brothers’ business dealings, too.” Nelson settled down on the couch. “Cocktopus? Sounds like a sex toy designed for eight women to use at one time.” “It does, doesn’t it? But that’s not how it’s spelled. Anyway, other than their immense wealth and the size of their empire, very little is actually known about the Cox brothers. There are maybe a dozen people who’ve personally worked with them. Half of them are dead- probably natural causes. Most of what’s left still work for them. I found someone who doesn’t.” “She’s a sweet old lady named Caroline, old even when she started working for them as a private secretary. She retired at 74 with severe arthritis so bad she couldn’t write anymore- and even then, the Coxes were offering her two and a half million annually to stay on. They value loyalty, and the confidentiality that brings.” “And there’s a rumor, that I wouldn’t normal pay attention to, except that it came directly from the reliable source. The Coxes are enormously paranoid when it comes to romance; women under sixty aren’t even allowed in their presence. Caroline was hired at 63. Neither has been married. And while they don’t have quite the same rules regarding men, there’s still no known dalliance by either brother in the love with the unspeakable name. And that’s where the rumor comes in. Men have needs, after all, so the speculation is that the brothers are lovers. Not that they’re queer, even, just that to safeguard their holdings, their empire, they’ve forsworn anybody else, and it’s the only port left in their self-created storm. Caroline once even heard their cook whispering how the “Coxtopus” isn’t just the name of their empire- it’s their favorite sexual position, too. I did a little poking on the internet, and can’t make heads nor tales of what that might look like, but I know it ain’t from the Kama Sutra.” “What I haven’t been able to piece together is what they’re up to. They put a lot of money into the last election cycle, and they’ve making sure there’s a lot of political fervor, with their networks, radio stations, papers, and organizations. But that’s all means- and I haven’t found a trace of their ends. Yet. Last year they spent more money to fight climate change legislation than ExxonMobil; when people talk about the best democracy money can buy, it’s the Cox brothers they’re referring to. All told, between lobbying and campaign contributions they’ve put up at least $100 million dollars in the last year, which can’t include money given to nonprofits, all of which the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy called ‘self-serving,’ since a majority was used to advocate on issues where the Cox brothers have financial interests.” “And maybe they’re engaged in violent military-industrial espionage while simply advocating for innocuous and unrelated political action, but I’m more than skeptical.” “The Coxes’ money came from their pappy, Daniel, who helped Stalin build refineries in Soviet Russia. I shit you not on that. After a few of his colleagues disappeared without so much as a note saying ‘Gone Fishing in Sibera’ he hauled tail out of that bloc and set up shop in Kansas- though why an oil man would settle in Kansas is anybody’s guess. They inherited his business and assets, worth roughly half a billion dollars at the time, and grew it nearly 200%. The younger brother, Scott, is by all accounts a fucking genius when it comes to business and organization. He micromanages all of their companies and the majority of their political operations. Bruce has been the more public face, and is at least publicly the head of their philanthropic work.” “But most people I talk to have never even heard of the Cox brothers. That’s the greatest trick the devil ever pulled: convincing people he didn’t exist. They know the subsidiaries, and the brand names, and a few business types even know Cox Industries is at the head of that table, but nobody even pays attention to the men behind the curtain- because that’s the way they’ve always wanted it.” Dagney had listened with glazed eyes. She didn’t want to know most of these things; she wanted to believe that everything that had happened was coincidental, mistakes. She pushed herself out of the recliner, and walked over to her bedroom door. She stopped, and leaned against the frame. Doug followed her. Her still unnamed son was curled around Clara, his arm wrapped protectively over his older sister. “I just want them to be safe.” “We’ll make sure of it,” McLafferty said, for once without smiling. |
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