The Swiss Suitcase (LSD, #1)

1. Start Me Up!

Geneva - Last week of July 2017

Start Me Up!

The message was clear: «Rooms 404 and 2503 are empty between 09:00 and 11:00. Make photos of every document you find and send the info to #2».

It's 09:05. I enter room 404, but it's not empty. On the bed sits a man, around thirty years old, with a sad face. When he notices me, I mutter an excuse: "Sorry. Please, go on with what you were doing. I just check if the chambermaid did her job well. Shall I put the «do not disturb»-sign on the door?"

The sad man lifts a gun. I raise my hands as a useless defence. He lifts it further and puts it against the side of his head. I try to stop him: "Please, don't do that."

He stares at me with his sad face, lowers the barrel a little, and asks: "Why not?"

"It's obvious. The blood will splash everywhere. In Pulp Fiction, it took two men an entire chapter to clean a car from a headful of brain tissue. Any idea how long it will take me to clean this room when you paint it red? You better fill the bathtub and drown yourself, or strangle yourself with the flexible tube of the shower, or, best of all, look into the mirror and scare yourself to death: you look like a zombie..."

He looks at me, like a zombie, but he doesn't laugh, and neither is he impressed by the amount of extra work that his suicide will cause me. He points the gun at his temple again.

I have one ultimate chance, but I have to be fast.

"Please, don't do that.", I say: "I know many people who committed suicide, and they all regretted it for the rest of their lives."

The sad man thinks about it and decides it's better to put the barrel into his mouth.

I'm getting worried: "Wait... I have something for you, a message that will change your life forever."

I put my hand in the pocket of the trousers of my uniform, in search of the message, but he pulls the trigger anyway. I close my eyes and hear... nothing. The fool forgot to take the safety off. Before he can undo the damage, I get my hand out of my pocket and aim at him with my own weapon: a canister of pepper spray. I empty a full charge in his face. It works splendidly. He screams like a pig, drops the gun and grabs his face with both hands. I grin at the spray can: "You make a grown man cry."

The man is not happy that I saved his life. He cries painful tears and shouts: "It hurts, you idiot. I'm dying..."

"Wasn't dying your idea to start the day with? Don't rub your eyes. It will make things worse. Go to the bathroom and use lots of water. Put the shower on, hot water, and spray it into your face."

He stumbles to the bathroom. I hear he follows my advice. I take the gun, a 9x18mm Makarov with 8 rounds in the cartridge, put the safety on again, and tuck it into my belt. Nobody kills himself during my watch!

I scan the room for any documents, but find nothing worth photographing and sending to #2 (read: number two). Then, I enter the bathroom to check on my patient: "Are you better now?"

He nods, but his sad face and his painful red eyes tell me he's lying.

I try to lighten up his mood: "You should not give up on life that easy. Lots of people are in poverty or pain, and they don't give up either. Every storm bird fights day and night against the cold and the rain, riding the wind at double speed to find food for her chicks. A nest made of straw is all the comfort she gets. A small crack in the rocks is her only shelter against the elements. The reward for all her hard work and misery is that one day her kids fly away without even saying «thank you». That storm bird doesn't give up and neither should you. Don't you remember the first lesson of life, right after you were born?"