Stan Mason - Stopping World War Three

Atlas felt in Greek mythology with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Oh… for the wisdom of Solomon… or a crystal ball to allow me to see what was going to happen in the future!

Musaphia was as good as his word, arriving just before the twenty minutes expired. He had been driven through the darkness by a chauffeur and I climbed into the back seat of his car to sit beside him. He still had the unlit Havana cigar firmly between his lips.

‘You really pulled it off!’ he said, his eyes shining with admiration. ‘I don’t know why but I thought you’d never go through with it let alone achieve it.’

‘You don’t think I went there to fail, did you?’ I boasted.

‘I’ll take the plans,’ he uttered in a casual manner.

‘Not so fast!’ I countered,, unwilling to hand them over without an explanation. ‘Chris Devon told me that he’s been dealing with Jan directly to get these plans. He’s getting paid handsomely for his effort.’

The octogenarian paused for a few moments. ‘Oh, I see!’ he returned quietly. ‘He’s getting paid handsomely and you want to know how much you’re going to receive. Is that it?’

‘No that’s not it!’ I riposted angrily. ‘I don’t want money… I want my wife! If she’s been dealing with Devon then she’s not been kidnapped or abducted!’

‘Who said she was abducted? Let me think! Ah… yes. It was you who told me that!’

‘I told you that because of the message I received!’ The situation was getting out of hand but he had something for me.

‘I’ve some good news for you, Jason. I can assure you that you’ll be back with your wife within the next forty-eight hours. I have that on excellent authority. She’s alive and well and she’s looking forward to seeing you again.’

‘Forty-eight hours,’ I repeated slowly.

‘It’s all been arranged. I’ll have the details for you tomorrow. I’ll let you know then.’

‘By the way,’ I added, offering him an extra bit of information. ‘Tomar Duran was incinerated on the electric fence surrounding the weaponry division. But I presume you already know that.’

‘If I didn’t know before, I do now,’ he answered enigmatically.

‘What are you going to do with the plans?’

‘What does anyone do with plans? They build on them. Now… if you’ll let me have the film!’

‘I suppose once I give you them it’ll be the last time we see one another.’

‘How wrong you are, Jason,’ he returned, holding out his hand. I gave him the film which he put into his pocket. ‘These will be printed out tonight,’ he concluded. ‘I want to see you tomorrow in the lobby of the Tower Hotel at St. Katherine’s dock in the East End of London at noon. Then I shall give you details about meeting your wife.’

I returned to my car and drove home certain that I had done the wrong thing. I had robbed my employer to give a man, whom I hardly knew, sensitive information of national, or perhaps international, importance. But it was too late to do anything about it now. He was in possession of the film and all I could do was to hope that I would be with Jan shortly. Although I should have been delighted to get the 21st Century Crusaders off my back I slept uneasily that night. Grotesque forms came into my dreams and went and I spent much of my sleep fighting off the police who, ostensibly, had arrested me. They were putting me in a small cell with Chris Devon. When I awoke, I realised that my first priority was to find Penny and I drove directly to her apartment.

The place was very familiar to me. I had visited it many times before and had slept there on numerous occasions. Now it seemed cold and unrelenting. I knocked on the door but no one answered. I had a strange feeling that something was desperately wrong I had to get inside. Removing a plastic card from my wallet, I attempted to slip it between the lock and the door in the hope of gaining entry. My lack of talent in such matters ensured that I was unsuccessful. I mused that people who broke into houses in the ‘movies’ never seemed to have any difficulty when they tried to unlock the door in this fashion. In real life it didn’t happen that way. In due course, I committed my badly damaged plastic card back to my wallet and searched for an alternative method. The crudest means of entry would be to smash a hole in the window and undo the latch inside so that I could climb in. However the noise would probably alert the neighbours and they would telephone the police. I searched under the mat outside the front door and then above the lintel for a spare key. In that I was successful. Unlocking the front door, I opened it slowly, calling out her name. The sound of my voice echoed through the apartment followed by silence. I recalled the black and white two-tone shoes I had seen there some days earlier. There were the same as those worn by Jan… size five! Penny had told me that they belong to her but I refused to believe it. The coincidence was too great and I had to check it out for myself. Entering the bedroom, I opened the wardrobe and examined Penny’s shoes. They were all size five-and-a-half. She had lied to me. Not only that but Jan’s shoes were no longer there. I felt that the case regarding Jan’s shoes was well and truly proven. It meant that Penny was involved with my wife’s disappearance.

I stood outside the lounge with a deep sense of foreboding. I was never one to indulge in the science of the paranormal but I had the feeling that something awful had happened. Penny had disappeared off the face of the earth without any warning whatsoever. No messages… no communication… nothing! It was all so uncanny! She would never treat me that way… avoiding making contact… unless something had happened which was beyond her control. It was the reason which made me so fearful. Slowly, I opened the lounge door and peered inside. A strange unpleasant odour drifted towards me which I failed to recognise. For a moment it seemed that everything was in order. Then I saw her body. She was laying on the settee ostensibly asleep but her condition was far worse. She had been shot through the right temple; a neat bullet hole was evident. She had been murdered in cold blood! Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling but her face was serene and it looked as though she had just leaned back on the settee to rest for a while. From the odour in the room, I guessed that she must have been killed the day before I left for Turkey. If that was the case, she had never had to wait for me at our favourite restaurant. By then, she was already dead! I could only hope that her soul would rest in peace!

I went back to the bedroom and returned with a blanket which I placed over her body. I uttered a short prayer, ran my finger over her eyelids to close all sight of the world for ever, and pulled the blanket over her head. For a moment I was overwhelmed with anguish and sorrow. Then tears welled up in my eyes and saliva collected in my throat as though it wanted to choke me. She had been extremely close to me and rather precious being part of my life for longer than I cared to admit. I had embraced her, caressed her, adored her, admired her, slept with her and, above all, I had loved her. She had been someone special who had turned my life upside down, changing the rain into sunshine and tears into laughter. I would have done anything for her which was the reason I had gone on this manic assignment in such an uncharacteristic fashion. She made me fee good… wholesome… a man! Now she was gone! What a waste! The beautiful, wonderful, desirable young woman who had so much to offer… so much to live for! No longer would we be able to share the passion, the emotion, the sensitivity, the glory of a simple touch, the silent conversations in which we knew exactly what the other one was thinking, the intimacy and the warm feeling of satisfaction just being together. My life was shattered and when I looked at her I was staring at the pieces. It was the end of an era… of a relationship between two people who loved each other. An idyll which had become a reality and could only be committed to the world of memory. Someone had taken her life and had savaged mine! My immediate reaction was to seek revenge for bitterness grew within me at a rapid rate. But from whom did I seek revenge? Who was the assassin who had killed my secretary and lover so mercilessly? In the complex sphere in which I now moved it was possible I would never find out! I heard a rustle behind me and turned sharply fearing it might be the police. Primar stood there with a wooden toothpick in his mouth and an enigmatic expression on his face.