The Natural Law by Steve Attridge

Author:Steve Attridge [Attridge, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XIII

‘Philosophy: A route of many roads leading from nowhere to nothing.’

Ambrose Bierce

Nothing made sense. He pushed the gun into my forehead. I could see the wheels in his head cranking infinitesimally towards the absolute and final thrill of pulling the trigger, just for the hell of doing it and hang the reason.

“OK. Why’d you kill Rod? You’re a dead man anyway but if you talk I’ll do it quick. If not I’ll kill you in pieces and you’ll be begging me to finish it. Why’d you strangle him?”

“I didn’t.”

Hurdy-gurdy thoughts Catherine-wheeled around my head as I tried to work out what was happening. Nothing sensible presented itself so I opted for further confusion. Strange how being so close to death creates either trembling terror and paralysis or clarity of sorts. I had a pathetic notion I could seduce this moron with words.

“Presumably you’re covering your own tracks by blaming me for Rod’s murder. And you still think you’re performing some sort of righteous executioner role for God knows what. A dark angel of Natural Law, but let me tell you some scholars take natural law, lex naturalis, to be synonymous with natural justice or natural right, so if you assume a symbiotic relationship between law and rights it means that I have a natural right not be treated merely as a punitive object in your singular crusade, but as a parallel agent of justice, despite the fact that you have the gun. I suggest we adjourn this meeting until you have acquainted yourself with the philosophies of Hobbes, Aquinas, Grotius, Locke, and possibly Burlamaqui and Emmerich de Vattel, then we can have an informed…”

I would have continued but he kneed me in the groin and it took my breath away.

“Weirdo,” he said.

All this was wrong. This imbecile thug couldn’t have sent me the texts or covered his tracks so assiduously. I had to play for time.

“Alright, maybe not Locke. He can be a bit dry, but you might find Samuel von Pufendorf illuminating,” I gasped, my groin throbbing horribly.

“Fuck it, I’m just gonna pop you. Rod’s dead anyway, so…”

A phone beeped. It was mine. Leather Jacket took my phone from his pocket and looked at it. He smirked and showed it to me. A text: A man living irrationally has no rational rights. Gladiator.

“What the fuck sort of message is that?” he asked.

“It’s a classic and deeply flawed argument used to justify execution,” I said.

“Who the fuck’s Gladiator? Is this some sort of queer thing?”

“I have no idea who is sending these messages,” I said.

“It’s your bloody phone, you nonce,” he said.

A beep indicated another text, which we both read: Rook is now going to take the gun from you and shoot you in your stupid head. Leather Jacket looked perplexed, then he turned to see who might be watching and that gave me a moment. I kicked him as hard as I could in his left shin. He howled and fell off balance. I grabbed his arm that held the gun with one hand and tried to pull the gun away with the other.

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