depended upon. Let us remain amicable about it all. The formula can mean nothing to you but is everything to me. He stretched the word ‘everything’ out with emphasis. There was no doubt that his oblique reference to the word was designed to render me psychologically subjective. Emotions of rage, hate and resentment curdled inside me towards this parody of evil. I wanted to bash his nose in but yet not create a hornet’s nest of troubles which I didn’t need. ‘You will have the formula,’ I told him. ‘As you say, it means nothing to me.’ He tilted his head and smiled flatly. ‘Good. Then perhaps now you will allow me to treat you to a fish supper? The haddock looked rather nice on the slab Jack. Would you like some of that?’
Christ! I really wanted to smack him right between the eyes. I shook my head. All I wanted was to get away from him and Tesco’s. What I wanted was a large scotch.
We exchanged glances. ‘I will wait to hear from you then, Jack.’ Again I nodded hearing myself say yes. He gave me another pat on my back as he moved away leaving me staring at the fish. I left in another direction. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted towards me as I passed by the bakery. It did nothing for my appetite.
Once outside, I heard six bells chime on a church clock. There was no need to rush home. My meeting with the weasel was not until 9.30pm. The evening darkness seemed hostile while the oncoming rain was somehow refreshing. I felt a great combustion of energy to be purged as I milled my steps in the walk back home. Like a robot, I trudged on in the knowledge that I had become an unwitting contender in a conspiracy for a death formula.
10
As I approached my house, it seemed I was oblivious to pedestrians and cars that passed me by. Only the laud honking of a car horn prevented me from an accident as I crossed the road. My thoughts were preoccupied with the past hours revelations.
Indoors, I made straight for the scotch bottle and poured myself a large one. A quick gulp sent a fireball into my stomach helping to quell the queasy feelings inside. My memory at the fish counter brought back vivid pictures of the entire meeting as I knew my instincts about Ahmed were valid ones. I think he knew that I knew his story for wanting the formula was a fabrication of the truth. He knew his double talk was working on me. Psychological terrorism had its place, especially when a thief like me was compromised. He knew I could not go to the police for fear of arrest. Neither could I tell Dr Bruce for the same reasons. It was crystal clear that his ingenious plan was a well thought out strategy from the start. Right now, I didn’t know if I was angrier with him or myself. Thus I cursed myself for the greed of easy money so I accepted that I had brought this whole messy saga upon myself, lock, stock and barrel!
From somewhere in the mists of memory came an old saying, ‘To run is not to hide and to hide is not to see!’ If I upped and left, where would I go? Everything my life stood for was right here. What about Aisha, Sharon and Louise? Then there was Susan, a regular girlfriend I had not seen for months. But that was because she was an air stewardess. Memories of her too filtered through my thoughts. Maybe I should give her a call? Perhaps a reunion for old times’ sake would take my mind off the predicament I was in. Yes, that’s what I would do after I had poured myself another scotch. Now I was beginning to mellow out but I needed to remain temperate for my meeting with Dave the weasel at the Blacksmiths arms.
‘Hello. Is Susan home? It’s Jack here.’ I queried the voice at the other end. I knew it was her flat mate, Charmaine. She was a bubbly woman. ‘Boy, will she be pleased you phoned!’ she answered. ‘She lost her diary with your number in it. She’s asleep just now. It’s the jet lag from her flight from Saudi Arabia. Can she call you back?’ I gave her my number and threw in a compliment of
Christ! I really wanted to smack him right between the eyes. I shook my head. All I wanted was to get away from him and Tesco’s. What I wanted was a large scotch.
We exchanged glances. ‘I will wait to hear from you then, Jack.’ Again I nodded hearing myself say yes. He gave me another pat on my back as he moved away leaving me staring at the fish. I left in another direction. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted towards me as I passed by the bakery. It did nothing for my appetite.
Once outside, I heard six bells chime on a church clock. There was no need to rush home. My meeting with the weasel was not until 9.30pm. The evening darkness seemed hostile while the oncoming rain was somehow refreshing. I felt a great combustion of energy to be purged as I milled my steps in the walk back home. Like a robot, I trudged on in the knowledge that I had become an unwitting contender in a conspiracy for a death formula.
10
As I approached my house, it seemed I was oblivious to pedestrians and cars that passed me by. Only the laud honking of a car horn prevented me from an accident as I crossed the road. My thoughts were preoccupied with the past hours revelations.
Indoors, I made straight for the scotch bottle and poured myself a large one. A quick gulp sent a fireball into my stomach helping to quell the queasy feelings inside. My memory at the fish counter brought back vivid pictures of the entire meeting as I knew my instincts about Ahmed were valid ones. I think he knew that I knew his story for wanting the formula was a fabrication of the truth. He knew his double talk was working on me. Psychological terrorism had its place, especially when a thief like me was compromised. He knew I could not go to the police for fear of arrest. Neither could I tell Dr Bruce for the same reasons. It was crystal clear that his ingenious plan was a well thought out strategy from the start. Right now, I didn’t know if I was angrier with him or myself. Thus I cursed myself for the greed of easy money so I accepted that I had brought this whole messy saga upon myself, lock, stock and barrel!
From somewhere in the mists of memory came an old saying, ‘To run is not to hide and to hide is not to see!’ If I upped and left, where would I go? Everything my life stood for was right here. What about Aisha, Sharon and Louise? Then there was Susan, a regular girlfriend I had not seen for months. But that was because she was an air stewardess. Memories of her too filtered through my thoughts. Maybe I should give her a call? Perhaps a reunion for old times’ sake would take my mind off the predicament I was in. Yes, that’s what I would do after I had poured myself another scotch. Now I was beginning to mellow out but I needed to remain temperate for my meeting with Dave the weasel at the Blacksmiths arms.
‘Hello. Is Susan home? It’s Jack here.’ I queried the voice at the other end. I knew it was her flat mate, Charmaine. She was a bubbly woman. ‘Boy, will she be pleased you phoned!’ she answered. ‘She lost her diary with your number in it. She’s asleep just now. It’s the jet lag from her flight from Saudi Arabia. Can she call you back?’ I gave her my number and threw in a compliment of
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