The Ethical Assassin

I looked at the menu. “What about fish?”

Melford raised an eyebrow. “What about them?”

“Do you eat fish? The sea bass with black bean sauce looks pretty good.”

“Do I exclude fish from my moral calculus because they live in the water instead of land? Is that what you’re asking me?”

“I think I get the answer,” I said, “but come on, we’re talking about fish here. Not fluffy bu

“So, cruelty justifies itself. You, of all people, ought to know better than that.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that when I came up to you with those two guys at the motel last night, I had the feeling that it wasn’t the first time some mindless assholes decided to turn you into a pincushion. The fact that it’s happened before doesn’t mean it’s okay for it to happen again. The fact that we’re cruel to fish doesn’t mean we should be cruel to them. Just because they live underwater and have scales instead of skin or fur doesn’t make it okay.”

I sighed. “Fine.” When the waitress came I ordered the vegetable lo mein. Melford ordered vegetable dumplings.

“I’m not especially hungry,” he said.

“Then why are we here?”

Melford shrugged. “Mostly I wanted to see if the woman following us would come in with us.”

“What woman?”

“She was driving a Mercedes, and now she’s at the table behind you. Don’t turn around. Actually, no need to bother, since it looks like she’s heading over here.”

The woman came around and stood between us and looked us over as though deciding which of us she might choose to bring home. She was pretty and tall, dark blond shoulder-length hair, rounded features that would have once been considered hyperfeminine and now seemed girlish. As if to offset that effect, she dressed to draw attention, wearing tight pink jeans and a nearly translucent white blouse that exposed her black bra underneath. “You don’t want to let him eat fish?” She was now looking over sunglasses at Melford, her eyebrows knit together. “Why do you make him miserable about his lunch- boss your friend around like that?”

We were silent for a moment. Finally I ventured, “He’s not really making me miserable.”

“He’s giving you a hard time, isn’t he?” She then looked at Melford. “Are you a bully?”

“He’s not a bully,” I said, not sure why I should stand up for Melford or defend him to this woman, whoever she might be.

“Sometimes people are so bullied that they don’t even know they’re being bullied,” she told me. Then she looked at Melford. “Isn’t what people eat a matter for their own choice?”

“No,” said Melford, nothing but kindness in his voice. When I said no it came out blunt and hostile and defensive. He made it sound like an invitation. “Whether or not to wear clothing that exposes our underwear is a matter of choice. Whether or not to apply lipstick or go to the movies or enter the goofy golf tournament are matters of choice. When you do something that inflicts suffering on another, then it becomes a moral question.”

The woman looked at him in a way that seemed both sly and appraising. “You know what?” she said. “You just might be more interesting than I thought at first. Can I join you?”

“I’d be delighted,” Melford said.

She sat down and angled her chair slightly toward Melford and put her sunglasses in the breast pocket of her diaphanous blouse. “I’m Desiree,” she said. And as they shook, Melford glanced at a series of lines drawn on the back of her hand. He gently kept hold of her fingers for a moment, almost as if he were getting ready to kiss her hand. “Hsieh?” he asked.

She nodded, not bothering to hide her surprise. “That’s right.”

He let go of her hand. “Are you considering making a break with the past?”

She tried to look neutral. “I guess so.”

“Me too.” He folded his hands. “So, you’re interested in becoming a vegetarian?”

“I’m not,” she told him. “I like eating what I eat. I’m interested in why you care so much.”

“I care,” Melford said, “because when we see something wrong, we ought to try to make it right. It’s not enough to silently condemn evil, to congratulate ourselves for not participating. I believe we all have an obligation to stand against it.”

Something darkened in her face. At first I thought he’d made her angry, but then I realized I saw a pang of sadness, maybe even confusion and doubt. “How exactly is this a matter of ethics? Animals are here for our use, aren’t they? So, why shouldn’t we use them?”

Melford picked up an empty teacup. “This was put here for our use, right? It was designed to make our lives better and all. What if I were to hurl it across the room? That would be considered an impolite act at best, but also violent, antisocial, unkind, and wasteful. The cup is here for my use, but I’m not free to use it in any way I see fit.”

She shrugged. “Sounds reasonable.”

“But not so reasonable that you’ll change how you eat?” Melford said.

“No, not that reasonable.”

He turned to me. “It’s interesting, isn’t it. You convince someone that everything you say is right, make them understand that eating animals is wrong, but they still won’t change.”

“Ideology?” I asked.

“You got it.”

“So, what are you fellows up to today?” she asked.

“Oh, you know. This and that,” Melford said.

She leaned a little closer to him. “Can you be more specific?”

He leaned closer, too, and it looked for an instant as though they might kiss. “Can you maybe give me a reason why I ought to be more specific?”

“Because,” she told him, “I’m a curious, curious woman.”

“Are you curious enough to wonder what it would be like to stop eating animals?”

“Not that curious.”

Melford leaned back a few inches and then reached out to her hand and touched the black marks she’d pe

She pulled her hand away, but not violently. It looked to me more like embarrassment- or surprise. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about who I am.”

Melford offered the ghost of a smile. “Maybe not. But I have a hunch.”

She said nothing for a minute. She unwrapped a tube of disposable chopsticks, separated them, and tapped them together. “Does it make you happy to crusade for animals?”

He shook his head. “Does helping the sick, caring for the desperate, make someone happy? Would giving comfort to lepers in the Sudan make me happy? I don’t think so. Happiness isn’t the issue. These things make us feel balanced with the world around us, and that is something much more important than happiness.”

She nodded for a long time, still tapping her chopsticks together. Then she dropped them, as though they’d suddenly grown uncomfortably warm. She stood up. “I have to go.”

Melford held out his hand for her to shake. She looked surprised, but she took it anyway.

“You want to tell me who you’re working for?” he asked. “Why you’re following us?”

“I can’t right now.” She looked genuinely sad about it, too.

“Okay.” He let go and she turned away, but he wasn’t entirely done with her. “You know,” he said, “you’re much too smart to be working for them. You’re not like them.”

She reddened slightly. “I know that.”

“Hsieh,” Melford said.

She looked at her hand and nodded.