chapter 15b 

(The Administrator) 

Moïse Berri 

and the Reconstruction of the Haitian 

Space Agency 

by Jude Jarda 

15b 
The Administrator 

Earlier today, Leopold de Grâce, the human resources director at the Zanmi d'Haïti Foundation, was looking for his younger brother Lordy near Elzéar Michelet's garage. Leopold was carrying a briefcase containing a dozen cod patties, a 1981 People magazine, a fifty thousand dollar check, stamped with the official seal of the Mizerikod commune and ten thousand bucks in American banknotes. That money was a reward for his sibling, Lordy's commission for helping him out. Leopold had a brief anxiety attack, when he realized that the black limousine he got paid to destroy had not yet been dismantled and that his unreliable sibling was nowhere to be found. The gang leader from Anse-à-Galets who threw the dough for that particular job, a man of very few words, insisted and made it perfectly clear with Leopold, that all traces of DNA present in that vehicle had to disappear. Any physical evidence of Moïse Berri's presence in Haïti had to be eliminated, starting with that Lincoln, in which the vanished executive had lost some blood during a recent scuffle. 

Leopold de Grâce bumped into young Gargarine, sitting behind the wheel of an old beat-up ambulance and busy cleaning a pistol with a dirty cloth. 

“By the Lance of Longinus, Gargarine, what the hell are you doing with a firearm?” 
“That piece of junk is not even real,” the adolescent answered, obviously lying. 
“Let me take a closer look at it.” 
“Can I take a closer look at your prostate and palpate those testicles of yours in return, Sir, while you’re putting your oily nose in my personal business?” 
“You, illiterate chunk of poop!” the administrator raged. “The whooping you’re looking for is searching for you with the same determination. Do you have any idea where my incompetent brother is hiding?” 
“I might be the victim of a rare form of Alzheimer's disease that only targets poor uneducated Black teens. Make a generous donation to the Gargarine Institute for Memory and the board of directors we'll see what can be done.” 
“You, arrogant bony punk-ass thief. What you need is a classic beating that will teach you how to show some respect for adults and society in general. You're lucky, I’m in a hurry. Can you break a hundred?” 
“Of course not, you, stupid fuck. I'm homeless, remember? I was going to open my cakehole for five bills, but now that I know you're loaded…” 
“Just wait till I get both hands around your tiny neck, you son of a crippled bitch! I'm going to circumcised you with a rusted hand saw.” 
“The doors of the ambulance are closed, Copernicus. Put the Benjamins on the hood and walk away from the truck. I'll tell you where to find Lordy Five Thumbs as soon as you do just that and only that.” 

Leopold de Grâce ended up, minutes later, on the doorstep of Melissandre Présumé's residence, full of shame and sweating like if he just ran a marathon. The administrator sprinted nonstop roughly half a mile, after being royally ripped off and chased by Gargarine. The minor was possibly armed with a toy gun, but Leopold de Grâce didn't have the opportunity or the time to analyze the object from up close. While pursuing the frightened executive, the licentious teenager threatened to put a bullet in his spinal cord and kept insulting the terrified man's completely blameless and irreproachable mother. 

“I must have a talk with my little brother, Mrs. Dutervil. It's extremely urgent. Let me catch my breath… pfff, pfff, pfff... this is a matter of life and death... period.” 
“Hmm, I see. And... ahem... what makes you think that Lordy No Money might be hiding in my house, does it say loser's parking or rest area for hobos and barefoot vagrants on my front porch?” 
“Do you mind if I take a look inside?” 
“Well, be my guest. And while you're at it, you might want to shave your pubic hair and cut your toenails on my new carpet in the living room. It's on the left. Who do you think you are, Mister? The reign of the Zenglens is over, pal. We have a President now, not a Viceroy, an Emperor or a King. Democracy is the new cool. People have rights nowadays. And let me tell you something else…” 
“Shut up! Ma’am, please, my head. I'm sorry. Listen, Mrs. Dutervil, with all due respect, if you meet with Lordy before me, you tell him that his money is in the hands of Gargarine, that evil little brat working at Elzéar Michelet's garage. The kid robbed me at gunpoint. It's a fifty thousand dollar check and a ten thousand dollar bonus in U.S. currency. As for the task Lordy was supposed to do for he knows who, tell him to hurry up and finish the damn job before an inspector is sent by our employer to confirm the results.” 
“If I hear you right, all that greenback honey belongs to my Lordy Love Me?” said Melissandre Présumé, her voice suddenly jolly, dramatically respectful and at least three octaves higher than her usual pitch. “My late husband never came home with more than thirty dollars and a handful of coins. That failure of a man disappeared with the wind just seven days after subscribing to a life insurance contract. Can you believe that? Do the math. The selfish hog left me with nothing. I kept our crumbling shelter, of course, but look at me? I'm wearing used clothes and my perm is three months overdue. People think I'm repressing my emotions when I tell them that I feel, deep inside of me, that the roving dog is still alive and well. The moron is waiting for the insurance check to be signed and approved by the company before he comes back from the dead. That is what's keeping me from starting a new life. Do you understand? And don't get me started on that spineless brother of yours. That no good lying macaque won't leave his wife because that would infuriate his pastor. Lordy doesn't want to make our union official outside the bedroom. He refuses to be seen with me in public or in broad daylight. When it's time to snuggle, on the other hand, that mama's boy only knows how to spell my name loud and clear. For instance, last Tuesday, after we took a baking soda bath with vetiver grass, aloes, coconut oil and...” 
“Whoosh! Ma'am! Please! Just turn off that lithium battery charger plugged in your vocal chords. Stop babbling, for Christ's sake. Damn! Do I even look like if I'm listening to you right now, be honest? Now that I've caught my breath back, let me repeat the very simple and clear message I want you to share with my brother. The canny little punk who works at Elzéar Michelet's garage is strolling around with his entire wages. Tell Lordy that I spoke to Archibald, the regular chauffeur of the limousine. The menace is real. The people who work for my boss don't have what we call a soul. I heard they've killed babies inside the womb, crucified lads, drank maiden's blood and burned grannies alive to demonstrate the seriousness of their warnings to insubordinate hookers and disobedient mercenaries within their own squad. Ever heard of Dante Alighieri's Inferno? That shit is real! Those butchers are not part of the human race. Lordy must respect his part of the contract and finish the job on that goddamn car before sundown or leave the country before dawn. Do I make myself clear, Mrs. Dutervil?” 
“Call me Melissandre, handsome. Just to let you know, my birth name, before meeting Mister Dud, was Présumé. Why don't you stick around and tell me more about Lordy's financial situation? I have some lamb in my roaster, dipped in okra sauce, fried plantains and some sweet potatoes. I don't mind a little company once in a while.” 
“Did you hear what I've just said? Here I am talking about maniacs setting people on fire and harpooning the unborn, blood-thirsty psychopaths looking for my brother, a local thief teenager armed with a loaded gun; and you, you are subtly trying to sweet potato me? You must be completely disconnected up there.”  
“Lordy is all grown up. He'll manage. In the meantime, you might want to make sure I get reconnected properly.” 
“I like my food spicy. Do you have red peppers?” 
“Pepper is my middle name, good-looking; and I have kilos of Habañeros from the Artibonite for your pleasure only. Peppers so hot that you'll have trouble keeping your shirt on.”