Terry Neale - Jo-el

“Okay, let’s do them in order, but if the other two get close, knock them out, but don’t kill them. We need to send a message.”

I met the man in Bruges, a pretty little town, close to the English Channel, known for its canals, it went a little differently. He wasn’t carrying a gun just a knife. As soon as he saw me he spun around and ran back to where he had parked his little, red Fiat 500. All I did was whack him hard in the thigh and told him if he did anything criminal again I’d kill him. Sally had caused the next two to faint. I arrived at the man in Oregon, just as he was coming around, a pleasant suburban neighborhood, large houses, with manicured lawns. He was lying on the sidewalk, rubbing his eyes. When he saw me he jumped up and began running in the opposite direction to where he had parked. I whacked him in the leg then caught up with him. Sally told me he had murdered three people on contract kills, I felt no remorse when I lobbed off his left hand and explained why and what his future in crime would bring. He also left in a hurry, I didn’t even have time to suggest he might want to take his severed hand with him. Silly man. The fourth man was in London, it was dark. The area was Chelsea, high end neighborhood not far from the Thames river. The man was lying in the street with four strangers giving assistance. He’d fainted as he was crossing a road and had been hit by a London bus. Nothing for me to do, the bus had taken care of business.

After taking care of the last two I was back in the suite. Maggie had left, gone to see Adam.

“Probably wants to get laid” Sally said.

“Sally, that’s my daughter, don’t say things like that.”

“What, you think they’re not doing it?”

“Well, no, but fathers don’t want to hear it.”

Enough of this conversation. I realized I was supposed to return to see Pippa about the list of people who knew my identity. Sally confirmed she was still at home, fixing dinner for Billy. I bounced into the living area.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me.” Pippa said, still mixing something in a bowl.

“Busy,” I replied.

She turned to me holding a fork in the air, I could see liquid eggs running down it’s handle. An omelet. Nothing gets past me. “I was going to ask what you were up to, but I think I’d rather not know.”

“Do you have the list?”

Pippa replaced the fork in the bowl and turned towards me. “Alberton, Kale, Lambert, Grayson, you know all of those people. There is a guy from Homeland Security, Brian Sumani, an attorney, Felicity Denham and finally Sam Fitzpatrick, another CIA agent.”

“That it? What about the NSC, weren’t they meeting underground?”

“We never told them your real name.”

“What’s Kale up to, he wasn’t exactly a friend?”

“Watching from the sidelines. We know who you are, Jo-el. It’s a leadership issue now. We can’t control you, that’s the greatest fear. What do you want? Why are you here? It’s also a trust issue and we’re still trying to figure that out. I’m not sure you’re winning with your latest antics. Those business men you killed were big time contributors to politicians around the globe.”

“They were crooks; they were all planning to kill me. Initially there were eighteen, I eliminated ten, but eight have hidden in bunkers underground.” That wasn’t quite true, one was in Japan and another in Santiago, Chile, but Pippa didn’t need to know that. “You must know they’re crooked?”

“We have files on them and suspect a lot, but they never get close enough to the dirty work and the ones in the US have many legitimate businesses. It’s difficult to convict them.”

“Yea, well no need now.”

Pippa screwed up her face, “I think your approach is a little too vigilantism for the most of us.”

“I can prove beyond any doubt they are criminals and I will provide the information. You must have seen what they did to those two CNN people? I’ve been sorting out issues all day, those assholes were sending guys to cut off the left hands of the kids who set up false Facebook and Twitter account, pretending to be me. They are trying to turn the general populace against me. Clever, but it won’t work, I’ve sent some nasty messages back and once that reaches the underworld they won’t find a hitman who’ll scratch their asses.”

Pippa tried to look positive but the concern on her face was very apparent, “So, what else are you going to do?” she asked.

“You probably know I’m meeting the President tomorrow. I’m going to tell him everything. Did you tell the group about Cirion?”

Pippa nodded and smiled. “That was a revelation. The consensus was we need our leading scientists to hear what you claim, see if they could accept any of it.”

“I’m okay with that, it’s the right step. You know, Pippa, there’s something I didn’t tell you, the final piece of the puzzle, so to speak, why I’m here? But, I think I’ll tell the President first. It’ll be out soon enough.”

“So, you’re teasing me?”

“I guess. What are the team doing now?”

“Hiding, under massive protection.”

We stood staring at each other for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Pippa said, her voice suddenly soft, she glanced down at Billy. Then took a step toward me.

“Don’t you dare, Jo-el.” I heard Sally in my ear.

I ignored Sally and closed the gap between us.

“I don’t believe it. Men! And I’m trying to be real. I hate you, Jo-el.”

I ignored Sally.

I kissed Pippa on the mouth and held her close to me for a while, then I pushed away gently, she understood. “I blew it, didn’t I?” she said.

“Maybe?” I smiled. “I have to go.”

I bounced back to the suite. Sally was gone.

“Sally,” I called out into the air. No response. I watched the people out of the window, going about their business. I felt suddenly alone, truly alone. It hit me how much I’d come to rely on her. I saw a young girl standing by a bus stop, eyes glued to a cell phone. Same thing I thought. “Sally!”

It was almost four, I was watching CNN. The news revolved around the person I’d become. First the deaths of ten very rich business men, dubious ties to organized crime. What were people to believe? One side was good riddance, the other a tragic loss. Then the boy, purporting to be the birdman, Jo-el, his left hand severed, just like the CNN executives in New York. What did it mean? The talking heads had a myriad of answers but no clue. It was time for this creature to talk to the people. A video of my interview with Leyland Price, who’d disappeared, easy to guess why, played in the background. Murderers were being arrested, interviews with police stating they’d received videos of the murder. Conclusive evidence, the accused were confessing. Gun violence was dropping by the hour. Rapists were being caught. Women’s groups were jubilant. I felt like I was winning. Jo-el was the second coming of Christ. Or he was God, or he was an alien. What was he going to do next? What was his plan, could anybody stop him? The world waited.

Then the feed switched to Australia, I felt my heart beat faster, I leant forward on the sofa and turned up the volume. A female reporter at a CNN affiliate had been snatched on her way to work in a Sydney subway station. Her name was Adrianna Murphy.

I leapt from the sofa and screamed, “Sally!” and felt my eyes water.

Sally appeared with her back to the window, full Bridget Bardot. Her blond hair seemed to glow in the streaking sunlight. She was wearing a leather mini-skirt, black stockings, thigh-length black leather boots, a shear, white cotton top, that left nothing to the imagination. I gawked at her in amazement, then choked. “Adrianna.” I pointed at the TV. She didn’t move, she didn’t speak. I was dumbfounded. I was useless. Without Sally I was Dave Murphy, aging widower, balding, lonely, feeble, completely useless. My eyes pleaded, my mouth begged. My hands stretched out to her.