CHAPTER TENTY FOUR
Fifteen hours, drone-like. Inside a drone. I am a drone. This constant hum is mine. No gratitude for the plane, set-up to take them back to Malta, all the way, non-stop, now hijacked by me. No thanks at all. Water, food and sleep can’t calm the anger I have for land. I want my hands digging the earth, to touch, and feel, my innocence. I need to see the proof. I need to return to me.
The geologist conforms. Does nothing to make my trigger-happy hand twitch or snap. But still, I consider his fate. Should I kill him? Should he be my final kill? The very last one. He’s done enough, now how shall he pay?
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
We land, half a mile from shore. The breaking dawn gives us just enough light. We could taxi to land, but instead, I take to the sea and leave it all behind: the plane, the guns, the Geologist. I am free, as is he, free to explain, free to know my truth.
The swim is a race, between me and me. Needless, but me, as fast as I can go. I am victorious; land is my prize - back on the quayside where I once did kill.
The stone steps, embedded in time, return me to the tourist perch, which is deserted and perfect, just me alone. An audience will come soon enough, a crowd to cross-out the wrongs scarring my name.
Out at sea, the dawn light lifts the plane into my sight. It rides a still tide to nowhere. All is peaceful and calm, but inside, can he live with himself? If so, can he speak for me? Not that I need him; not that I need anyone.
At the flowerbed, I take to my knees. The earth is cool and moist. I dig down, down into the earth. Digging down, deeper than before? Definitely deeper than before. Too deep now. Now a metal box. I pull it up. A plain, metal box, heavy with something inside. I rip the lid free and see a gun, a phone, ammunition, a credit card, a passport with my photo and the name James Jones. The phone rings. I see the number on the screen, the same as the one given to me by the Sailor Man. I answer. He speaks:
‘Sam, I know it’s you. I can see you.’
I could look around, but why? Why?!
‘It’s me, you know who, your friend. I helped you. I gave you the gun. I provided you transport, the boat and the cars.’
I know who this is, now why?!
‘When I say me, of course, I mean us. It was us who helped you. We, the people who share your enemy, who you fought. The other side. The counter force. If you like, the good.’
The good? Am I the good? Prove it!
‘You found a war, a secret war. You were an innocent, pulled in, and yet you scored a significant victory. However, the victory is far from complete. The war continues, we still must fight. But you, what now for you? The police, the authorities, some function of government? That can never be. We can never allow that, Sam. This is not about governments; it is so much bigger than that. The war continues, and we need you. We all need you, Sam. This phone contains a list of names and addresses. We took them from Oakley's website. You gave them to us, Sam. We were watching. We had high hopes for you, and you didn’t let us down. The people on the list, they are all the enemy. Each and every one acts against humanity, as they, those you killed, acted against humanity. We will give you everything you need to eliminate them. Your name, Samuel Dean, Samuel Dean is dead. The evidence you left has been destroyed. I repeat, destroyed. We had no other option. We couldn’t let you lose. The evidence would never have given you what you wanted. That man is now dead, but you, you live to do good. We now offer you a role. We offer you a purpose. You have everything you need for the first name on the list, to eliminate him…We can end this, James, we can end it, and we will, together, we will complete the victory.’
He ends the call. I look at the phone, is it hacked? The screen navigates to show the list, scores of names and addresses. I hear a noise, I think I do. I grab the gun and turn. Nothing. I see nothing. Out at sea, the plane has gone, it has vanished.
The End.
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