Nssm 200 - The Milieu Derivative
Her half naked body charged at him with the ferocious intent of a lioness seeking to bring down prey. Fists pounded against his unprotected chest and Matt made no attempt to shield or fend off the barrage of blows raining upon him. All the time their passion rose outside he had felt the needles of anguished guilt pricking ever mercilessly at his soul, growing in intensity as they neared consummation of the physical act. This was nowhere as bad. His lack of defence enraged Maria further and she sought to gouge her nails into his chest, recoiling in sudden horror once she’d noticed the innumerable scar tissue marks dotted on the front of his torso. He expected obscenities to follow. Much to his surprise, she turned and fled.
There was nothing more to say or do. He had confessed his guilt to this marvellous mother of four, further scarring an already tortured and lonely soul.
Matt stepped wearily outside, looking helplessly up to the sky for divine inspiration as he made his way to the dividing wall. The sound of a trigger being cocked filled the still night and rooted him to the spot. Matt always believed in first instinct and this told him to leap to safety.
“I know how to use this,” she said. “John taught me.”
Reluctant hands slipped to his side
“I’ve no doubt he did,” he said.
“Turn around,” she ordered. “I want to see the face of the man who killed my husband so I can watch him die.”
For a fleeting moment he considered making a desperate break for freedom. Instead, he turned slowly and looked her in the eye.
“What kind of warped and twisted mind preys on the widow and children of a man he has killed?”
The rapier thrust arrowed into its target, taking the wind from his lungs and making him feel like he’d been lanced through the pit of his stomach. But at least she’d left the door slightly ajar, offered a glimmer of hope. Somehow, he had to find the words to try and defend the indefensible. He glanced briefly at the finger wrapped tightly around the trigger and did his best to remain calm. Maria motioned him away from the potential safety of the wall towards the pool and he stepped cautiously aside.
“John told me terrorists come in the most surprising forms these days.”
“I’m not a terrorist.”
“How else do you describe a man who kills government employees for a living?”
“Desperate,” he said.
He watched her finger slide away from the trigger and then it slowly returned to position.
“I wanted to live. When faced with life threatening danger the only thing on a man’s mind is to kill or be killed, nothing more, nothing less.”
“And damn everything else, such as the consequences to his family.”
“When a man is trying to snap your windpipe by wrapping an arm around your throat from behind the last thing on your mind is to ask if he has a family.”
“You have no remorse at all, do you?”
“I’m not going to apologise for taking the life of the man responsible for the brutal murders of my friends and who was also trying to kill me.”
He regretted the outburst the moment it left his lips, more so when he noticed her gun arm rise and straighten. He tried to think quickly.
“Maria …” he began.
“You are the worst kind of living being,” she said. “How does a man get to be so evil?”
“Have you considered how you’re going to explain away a dead man in your garden to the police?” he said. “You don’t want to do this.”
“I can think of nothing else I would rather do. In fact I have dreamt of this moment.”
Matt shook his head.
“Be careful what you wish for, Maria.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Pulling the trigger is easy, simple. It’s what happens later that’s important. If you’ve never seen a dead person before it’s likely you’ll get nauseous, be sick, and your body will tremble for a short while. Once the physical reaction has worked its way through the system you’ll hope that’s the end of it. But it’s only the start. Nights will fill with restless sleep, fuelled by unpleasant dreams you won’t be able to remember the next morning. And they go on, night after night.”
“Stop trying to twist your way out of this by playing games with my mind.”
“It’s no game, Maria. I should know. I killed a man once out of a sense of revenge. Anger had taken hold of my mind, rage of my heart. Nothing seemed more important than to kill this one, particular, man. After I’d taken his life I felt like I could rule the world, that I was immortal. But then the nights came. They still come. They are a constant reminder I’m now a lesser human being than I was before. As they will remind you if you pull that trigger.”
He watched the movement of her eyes as she reflected on his comments. They flicked from side to side as she attempted to properly digest the sentiment expressed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Why did you even come here at all? Is it some macabre fascination with the path of despair you leave in your wake?”
“I’m trying to trace a friend and prevent her from doing something reckless and dangerous, to a lot of people. The path led me to you.”
“Another terrorist,” she spat.
“Rosa Cain is not a terrorist.”
Her grip on the weapon loosened and then tightened.
“I have heard this name.”
“She was one of your husband’s team until she decided to leave and help me.”
“Help you do what?”
“The book I am writing,” he said. “It’s not based on fiction but on fact. There are people who want to resolve the global overpopulation crisis by releasing a deadly virus to reduce the number of human beings on the planet, rid the world of those who can’t defend themselves. They say it is necessary for the future of mankind.”
“A preposterous tale,” she said.
“Is it so preposterous?” he said. “You’re a virologist. How hard would it be to stumble upon a lethal viral strain that kills instead of cures? How long has the world, Governments in particular, debated the best way to secure the future prosperity of mankind against a background of diminishing resources? What does history reveal about how civilisations react when faced with the prospect of impending doom, when they finally reach the precipice? Remember the Mayans, the Minoans? Those civilisations collapsed after environmental disaster and led them to implode, to turn on each other. Archaeological evidence suggests that the masses turned on their masters in both instances for failing to protect the people. So is it really beyond the bounds of impossibility that the current rulers of our global civilisation would seek to strike first, take measures to maintain order and secure their dominant position before it came under threat? I was given an electronic copy of the plan. They intended to release this virus with the sole intention of decimating the numbers of humans on the planet. Only those people deemed physically and intellectually gifted were to be provided with an antidote, the means to survive; the remainder were to be left to suffer and die.”
He could see in the concentrated expression her mind was at work, trying to determine the plausibility of what seemed like an outrageous assertion. Perhaps her mind was visualising the scenario as he spoke. Then again, for all Matt knew, she may favour just such an aggressive approach to population control.
“How dare you,” she hissed. “What a despicable man you are to try and suggest that my husband, a lifelong upholder of the law, could ever stoop so low and involve himself in such a hideous thing.”
“The scars on my body,” he said, quickly pointing. “The ones that made you recoil in horror and disgust when you saw them for the first time in the light. John Tillman’s friends inflicted these to try and persuade me to surrender the files I’d been given. Or do you think I would deliberately disfigure my own body to deceive you?”
He took a deep breath and prayed inside he was managing to find a way through.
“And the true irony of it all,” he added, “is that the secret c
ommunity of conspirators now want to stop the virus being released because they’ve discovered their antidote doesn’t work, at least not without catastrophic side effects.”
Her head cocked to the side as she glanced temporarily away, albeit in the blink of an eye.
“You know something, don’t you?” he said.
“I know you are a murderer. What I don’t know is the true identity of the man who killed my husband.”
“You know my name,” he said. “It’s Matt, Matt Durham.”
Her eyes widened at the mention of the name and a deafening silence filled the still night air. After what felt like an eternity the safety catch clicked back into place and he saw her hand first drop to her side then toss the weapon aimlessly onto the cushioned sun bed. Matt decided this was no time to look a gift horse in the proverbial mouth. In one flowing move he turned, vaulted the wall and raced into the safety of his villa. Bent double with hands resting on knees and breathing erratically it occurred to him. How could the mention of his name mean anything to Maria?
Chapter Sixteen
Can’t Stop the Rain