| The next morning there was a knock at my door.
It took me a long time to answer, but the people were
clearly willing to wait. I’d got back that night
and taken the longest shower of my life. I’d
shaved for the first time in weeks, and then slept
like I was in a comma.
“Mr Hanners?” The man was a veritable
mountain in a suit.
“Er, yes?”
“May we come in?” The other man was much
more slight, and wore glasses.
“Who are you?”
They raised their warrant cards and IDs. “We’re
from MI5. I’m Detective Simmons, and this is
Detective Rhemus. May we come in - I don’t think
you want to do this on the doorstep.”
I stepped back and allowed them in. I followed them
into the living room. Or what was left of it anyway.
There were two tatty chairs and a coffee table with
3 legs. I’d sold everything to keep my obsession
going.
“I’m afraid I’m, er, moving and
I’ve sold all my furniture. Can I get you a
tea?” I wandered into the kitchen and put on
the kettle. The milk in the fridge was so old the
smell nearly knocked me out as I opened the door.
So much for tea.
I wandered back into living room. It looked like
they’d tried to tidy up a bit, and put the chairs
round the coffee table, which they’d propped
up with a lamp. Rhemus was fiddling with the lamp.
“Electricity’s off,” I said. “Look,
what’s this all about?”
Detective Simmons took out a photograph from a folder
he was carrying. “Do you know this man?”
He handed me the photo.
I nearly swallowed my tongue.
“Th-that’s him!” I looked at Simmons,
incredulously. “Th-that’s the man that
killed my wife!”
It was the man from last night too. I suddenly felt
very nervous. My body started to gear up to run upstairs.
I still had the gun upstairs - but would I use it
on the police? Maybe I could just threaten them and
escape? And then I noticed it.
The scar.
It ran along his left cheek.
And my memory flooded back. This was the man. Not
the man from last night. The man in the photo was
the man I had seen that day. Who had the other man
been? But they looked so similar. They could have
been twins. What had I done?
“What... ?” was all I could manage.
“What about the scar?” Said Rhemus. “Is
that what you’re wondering? You’ve caused
us an awful lot of trouble, Mr Rhemus. The man you
attacked last night was in fact one of our agents.”
“No.”
“Yes. He’s a remarkable match isn’t
he? Apart from the scar, of course, and we can recreate
that with make-up.”
“He said...”
“He said he was a reporter, yes?” Said
Simmons, taking the photo back. “Well, that
was only partly true. The reality is that whilst he
is definitely an undercover reporter, due to his uncanny
resemblance to one Ishtar Ramoon - that’s Ishtar
Ramoon the international terrorist, by the way - he’s
also our agent.”
I was in a state of shock.
Rhemus moved behind Simmons. “You did see Ramoon
at Victoria that day.” He said. “He was
ultimately responsible for the bomb, but the thing
is he was also caught in the blast. Ishtar Ramoon
died that day, just like your wife. But no one knew,
and so Mr Mahmood took his place. Think of it as him
getting the ultimate exclusive.”
Rhemus continued to circle around.
“So, we have a bit of a situation. We couldn’t
exactly tell you the man you saw had died, or even
that he was involved - not if we wanted to use Mahmood
to infiltrate the terrorist network. But you appear
to have worked it out yourself. Or at least you stumbled
across the lie.”
Rhemus was behind me now.
“So, we need to clean up.” concluded
Detective Simmons.
The human brain has no nerve endings, apparently.
So it doesn’t actually feel any pain. I guess
that’s some mercy. I mean, I certainly didn’t
feel the bullet as it tore through the back of my
head and ended my life.
Moments that change the course of your life. If that
man had not pissed himself I would have killed him.
He would not have been able to tell them who had attacked
him, and these men would never have been sent to kill
me.
Moments of destiny. |
