A Call from Cobra
Mark Daniel Taylor
“Is this Sally Gotten?”
“Speaking.”
“Sally Gotten. Brooklyn, New York. IP Address ending 145.178?”
“Sorry, what is this about?”
“I am Cobra.”
“Cobra?”
“Yes. Cobra. You know Regina Winters?”
“Um, yeah … I mean, maybe I do.”
“You speak to Regina Winters about a special assignment?”
“Wh-what? No … I mean … special assignment? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“You know special assignment. Special assignment means killing a person. You speak to Regina Winters about killing a person.”
“Who are you? Are you the police?”
“No, this is not the police. This is Cobra.”
“I don’t know anything about an order to kill someone.”
“Yes, you do. I have it here. Sally Gotten tell Regina Winters that she want woman named Nora Ashley dead. You say Nora Ashley is a woman of medium height with curly black hair and pale face. You want her shot in the head.”
“I didn’t, I swear.”
“You say she work in Crown Heights. You say she take her lunch every day at one o’clock in the park where she eat tuna fish sandwich. You say she sits on the same bench and reads a book.”
“I am hanging up now.”
“You do not say what book.”
“I don’t know you. This is a prank call.”
“You tell Regina you want this woman dead. You can admit this, yes? Listen, I am not police. Do I sound like police?”
“You sound like … is that a Russian accent?”
“Of course it is Russian accent.”
“Yes, no, I’m sure it is.”
“Мне никогда не следовало уезжать из Москвы. You listen now. You pay for this assignment, yes?”
“I … yes. Yes, I did.”
“Good. Look, listen, I am giving you money back.”
“What?”
“The money. For the special assignment. I am giving it back. It will not be all the money because Regina already take her cut, but I will give you back my money.”
“What’s going on?”
“You look at your account. You see money has returned.”
“But … what about the assignment?”
“I cannot do it.”
“What? Why not?”
“It is too sad.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said it is too sad. I follow this Nora. She is as you say. She sits on the bench every day at one o’clock and eats tuna fish sandwich. She reads from a book. From scope I see that it is Dostoevsky. I like Dostoevsky. I watch her go to work and sit on her desk. I dress as maintenance man and look at her in office. Other people’s desks, they have pictures of girlfriends, boyfriends. This woman, she has nothing. She looks at her emails and then goes back to her flat where she lives with three other girls. I sit in building opposite and watch her through the lens on my camera. I bug her house and I hear these three other girls say it would be nice if this woman came out of her room once in a while. I see this woman at her computer. She spends her evening watching internet videos and playing a computer game where you make a fake person and put them in a fake house.”
“You bugged her house?”
“Yes. It is very easy. No extra charge.”
“What did she do then?”
“She goes to bed. Next morning she goes to job. On weekends she go and see new movie
with Robert Pattison. Even on weekend she eats tuna fish sandwich.”
“So that’s it? You won’t do it?”
“I can’t.”
“But that’s your job.”
“Look, I am Cobra, okay? I kill people all the time. It very easy. I kill snitches, I kill thieves. Sometimes I kill husbands. But I cannot kill this woman.”
“Because it’s too sad?”
“Yes.”
“How is that a reason?”
“Say I kill this woman, yes? I do as you say, and I shoot her in the head. Okay, fine. But now I will remember her. This sad woman. I remember everyone I kill. The snitches and the thieves but also the rapists and the murderers. I remember them and I think, ah, well, they not very nice people. No big deal. If I kill this woman, however? I do not want to have to think of this pathetic person every day.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I need to think about my own mental health.”
“This isn’t right.”
“Look, I give you back the money. We forget this ever happened.”
“No, Cobra, you don’t get it. You have to do this.”
“No, I say already, I cannot.”
“Please, I’m on my knees. I’m begging you.”
“You give me reason. Why I kill this woman? Hm? She do something to you? She do something bad? You tell me.”
“Cobra, don’t you get it! It’s me! I’m the target! I’m Nora Ashley!”
“You Nora?”
“Yes!”
“Nora Ashley?”
“Yes! Cobra! Do you get it now?”
“Oh no. This is not good.”
“Don’t you understand? You’ve seen it yourself. My life is terrible, and I don’t know how to escape it. It’s been the same ever since I was a girl. I just don’t know how to connect with other people. This is the longest conversation I’ve had in months!”
“Oh god.”
“You’ve got to save me, Cobra. I tried doing it myself, but nothing works. I wanted to jump off the office roof, but I couldn’t look over the edge. I tried taking an overdose of sleeping pills but just woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. A bullet, that’s all I need. Flying in through the window when I least suspect it.”
“I cannot hear this.”
“I don’t care about the money. I can give you more if you like …”
“You need to speak to someone.”
“I’m speaking to you!”
“I send you details of therapist. Very good therapist. She help Mrs. Cobra when she was sick.”
“I’ve spoken to therapists! I’ve spoken to doctors, healers, and spiritual gurus! Nothing is working!”
“I cannot hear this.”
“I just want someone to end it.”
“Listen, you sound very nice, but I am not the person for this. I have a lot going on too, you
know. You think people just kill themselves? Maybe you should try something new. Instead of tuna fish, maybe try mackerel or salmon?”
“I’ve tried …”
“You think I don’t want to give up? No? Just walk away and leave it all behind? It happens. One time I miss a shot on a man on a train and I think, oh god, what is the point? But then you get back on horse. You have that expression, yes? I travel all over the city and I find the target and I finish it. You understand? What is so hard about this?”
“It’s hard because …”
“Huh? Speak up, I cannot hear you.”
“It’s hard because it’s like … I can feel the disgust in other people’s voices. It’s like as soon as I meet someone new, I can tell they dislike me. It’s in their expression, in the way they’re standing. They’re just waiting for a reason to hate me.”
“You think people are like this?”
“Yes, I do.”
“How you know this?”
“Because I’m like that, Cobra. Because whenever I meet someone new all I’m doing is waiting for a reason to hate them. It doesn’t matter how small the reason is. Who they voted for, what movies they like. Sometimes I feel like I can just look at a person and know everything I need to know about them to hate them.”
“And this is enough for you to pay for someone to kill you? Because you worry what other people think about you?”
“Is that not enough?”
“...”
“Cobra? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I still here.”
“What is it?”
“I am thinking. Listen, you talking to me okay, yes?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You do not think I hate you?”
“I think you think I’m pathetic.”
“Yes, but I do not hate you. How about this? I do not kill you. Not yet anyway. But I will keep following you. I will watch you from building across from where you live. I will dress as maintenance man and watch you at your office. You try and speak to people—”
“Cobra, please …”
“No, you listen. You try to speak to people and if it goes well—if you do not say anything embarrassing or bad—then that’s good. But if you say something stupid then I will shoot you.”
“You will?”
“Yes. Very clean. Through the head.”
“You promise?”
“Yes. Sure. I promise.”
“But how will you know I’ve said something stupid?”
“I’ll know.”
“And if I don’t say anything … then what? You’ll keep following me. How much will that cost?”
“What do you care? You get tired of deal, we call it off. Or you say something stupid and I kill you.”
“Okay.”
“That a deal?”
“That’s a deal.”
“Good. Now hang up on call. I need to go and relax. All this depressive talk. It is giving me a headache.”
Mark Daniel Taylor is a writer from Plymouth, UK. He is an alumnus of the 2020 New Orleans Writers' Residency and was a finalist in the 2023 Killer Nashville Claymore Award and the Adventures in Fiction New Voices Competition. He now lives in London, where he is working on his debut novel, Infinity Land.
This tragicomic piece, crafted entirely from dialogue, pushes boundaries and addresses dark subjects: depression, alienation, and murder. But through unexpected humor, Mark Daniel Taylor paints a vibrant scene full of sensitivity, humanity, and strangely, hope.
—Fawn, Senior Editor