| 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. |
