The Milieu Principle

by Malcolm Franks

So Jack was to be his assassin.

  “Open yur door,” said the Canadian as he cocked the pistol in his hand.

  Lost for words, Matt’s mind began to race. Of all people, he never expected it would be his friend to pull the trigger to end his life.

  “Open yur door, I won’t tell yur again,” he said curtly.

  Matt obeyed and looked down at the sea beneath the plane from the open door. He wondered if he would die quickly, or if it would take hours for his life to drift away. Perhaps he would float on top of the water for a while. Maybe he would simply sink to the bottom of the bay.

  He held his breath.

  A loud bang sounded and Matt felt the whoosh of a missile whistle pass his chest. He exhaled deeply in the knowledge he was still alive, for the moment at least.

  “One lie, yur tell me one more goddamn lie and the next bullet goes through yur thick skull. Do yur understand?”

  Matt nodded in relief. The next few minutes were going to be very difficult.

  “That’s yur, ain’t it,” Jack growled, slapping an open newspaper into Matt‘s lap.

  There was a picture of a bearded man with the caption ‘Fugitive Michael Daniels.’ Matt turned his attention to the sub heading, “UK Murderer on the run in Canada.” He looked up to see Jack‘s face red with thunder.

  “Read!” Jack repeated gruffly, his grey eyes consumed with menace.

  It was the Vancouver Sun, page three, dated yesterday. Matt skimmed through the lengthy report. Before he got to the end of the column Jack interrupted.

  “Not running from the law, working yur way across Canada yur said. Yur devious little shit!”

  Matt’s eyes focussed back on the article in an attempt to try and gather his thoughts and decide how best to answer his Canadian friend, placate his anger. He knew he had to think quickly.

  “What kind of lowlife kills women? Yur scum, that’s what yur are, scum!” Jack bellowed.

  Matt turned his head to look at the sea, unable to look his friend directly in the eye, not with all the emotion welling up inside.

  “Has Grace seen this?” he asked quietly.

  “How dare yur even mention her name to me, yur filthy dirty murderer!” was the shouted, angry reply.

  Matt shook his head gently.

  “So why bring me here Jack? Why not just turn me in?”

  “Because yur owe me, I took yur in and gave yur a job. I gave yur my trust and friendship, and all the time yur were lying to me.”

  Matt raised his head and saw Jack’s moistened eyes. He recognised his betrayal had cut deeply, almost as much as the vileness of the alleged crime reported. The realisation of what he had done cut through Matt’s soul. He had abused the trust of friends, getting them to believe he was someone he wasn’t. The one human weakness he despised above all others, the trait of betrayal, had now become an inherent part of his own make up. Matt loathed himself for it.

  “Yur owe me an explanation,” said the older man, his voice beginning to crack.

  “I didn’t kill anyone, Jack,” he answered quietly.

  “Then why do they say yur did?” he shouted, raising his voice again. “Are yur forgetting I’m the one with the loaded gun, lad.”

  “Then either shoot me, turn me in, or let me out and I’ll make my own way from here,” he shouted back.

  Anger was rising inside, lighting a fire in his heart. Jack sensed the growing seeds of fury in the young man‘s disposition.

  “Is that what happened, lad? Did yur have a falling out? Did yur get angry and snap? Did yur lose control?”

  “I can’t tell you,” said Matt firmly, struggling to retain control of his rampant emotions.

  “Sixty seconds, that’s all yur got left!” hollered Jack. “All the time yur got left to tell me how yur could do such a thing, before I put a bullet in yur.”

  “I can’t tell you,” shouted Matt again, glaring at his friend.

  The water in his eyes had evaporated under the burning glow of rage Jack could now see in his gaze. The two men stared at each other, eyes locked and neither prepared to yield. Both men struggled to think of what to say next. Matt had wanted to tell his Canadian friend, to tell someone, but he was fearful of the consequences.

  “Why can’t yur tell me?” yelled the older man. “Why? Why?”

  “I don’t want you involved, Jack.”

  “I’m already involved lad, Grace too. Yur’ve been working for us these last few months.”

  “You’re not listening to me,” yelled Matt. “It’s my problem and I will sort it.”

  “Yeah, like yur’ve been sorting it out these last few weeks yur’ve been working for me and Grace using a false name. Yur haven’t even got the balls to admit to any wrongdoing.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong!” blurted Matt. “Nothing; I’ve done nothing, nothing at all.”

  “Well if that’s right yur should be able to tell me then, shouldn’t yur lad.”

  Matt shook his head in frustration. He didn’t want anyone else in any way connected or involved with this. But Jack was right about one thing, he did deserve some sort of explanation.

  “If I told you the truth they could kill you too, gun you down like a dog the same way they gunned down this woman they say I killed,” Matt answered back.

  The two men continued to eye each other. Jack, desperately trying to decide if he was being told the truth, was unable to determine if this was another lie among many. A pause followed before Jack broke the silence.

  “What sort of trouble have yur got yourself into, lad?” he said in a gentler disbelieving, voice.

  Matt shook his head again, the only response he could think to initially muster.

  “Something I wish I hadn’t,” he confessed. “I’m running or hiding, or something … but not from anything I’ve done. A friend entrusted me with information some other people want returned, at any price. The problem is the currency these people deal in is human life. My friend, the one who gave me the information, he’s dead now too.”

  Matt finally looked away and gazed upon the isolated beach in front of them.

  “I’m sorry, Jack,” he whispered. “I never meant to mislead you or anyone else. I thought this was the only way I could be safe from these people. Instead, I may have put you in danger; Grace, Holly and Jenna too.”

  He took a deep sigh and looked at the newspaper article again. The Vancouver Sun, they must know he is in the area. How did they find him?

  “Jack, pulling the trigger is probably the best thing you could do right now, for all of your sakes.”

  There was a brief pause and then the engine started up and the plane began to move.

  “Shut the bloody door,” yelled Jack.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Back to Victoria, and remember, I’m the one with the gun,” Jack replied.

  The plane climbed quickly into the sky, soaring above the waves below as it pointed back towards Victoria Harbour.

  “And no,” Jack added, levelling the plane, “Grace hasn’t seen it. She’s never looked at a newspaper since she arrived on the island.”

  ‘Thank God for that one small mercy,’ thought the younger man.

  Matt braced himself for inevitable captivity. He could have attempted an escape but it would have involved a physical struggle, and he wasn’t prepared to fight with Jack. Once the plane had been moored and they were back on land, Jack instructed Matt to take off his checked shirt. Jack then lifted the wooden chair from the office and told Matt to sit down, producing a set of battery operated hair shears. The young man’s eyes widened, horrified by the sight of the massive looking piece of equipment in his friend’s hands.

  “No, no Jack. Not all of it for God’s sake!” he whined.

  “Sit down and shut up,” was all Jack bellowed, as he stood behind Matt and pushed him down on to the seat with his strong arms.

  The air filled with the sound of the shears cutting through Matt’s fine head of light brown hair. It didn�
�t take long, minutes at best.

  “Done!” heralded Jack, and then disappeared into the cabin and produced a small, dirty mirror for Matt to inspect his new appearance.

  At first the young man shut his eyes, fearful of the horror to be unveiled when he re-opened them. He could hear Jack chortling behind him.

  “Don’t be such a big Nancy,” he yelled, and chortled some more.

  Matt lifted an eyelid and peered at the mirror. Then he forced the second eye into the open. He still had hair! As he raised his arm the mirror revealed the full extent of Jack’s handiwork. The lengthy hair had been replaced by a crew cut which, surprisingly, suited his now more prominent face. Running his fingers over the top of his head he noticed the remaining hair seemed a much lighter colour than before. His mother had told him he was born with blonde hair, which had darkened slightly as he got older. He certainly looked different, younger even, and his face appeared broader and more masculine than before.

  “Enough of that,” said Jack, whipping the mirror out of Matt’s hands.

  “You’re in the wrong business,” said Matt. “Ever thought of opening a barber shop?”

  The Canadian clipped the back of the young man’s head and told him he was being a cheeky so and so. Matt stood up, brushing the freshly sheared locks of hair off his shoulders and chest.

  “I need a shower,” he said, “or this stuff will prickle me to death for the rest of the day.”

  Without warning he felt a powerful jet of ice cold water blast against his body. Trying to protect his exposed body with his hands, he could see Jack pointing the hosepipe at him.

  “Yur said yur needed a shower!” the Canadian laughed gleefully.

  Matt fought against the liquid pressure hammering into his torso, stepping ever closer to where the Canadian was standing. Once he had reached the older man they began the tussle for control of the hosepipe. Matt succeeded in prising it from Jack’s grasp, forcing it to fall onto the wooden floor of the jetty.

  The two men wrestled for physical superiority. It was no contest. Despite Matt’s youth the older man was as strong as a bull. Gradually he forced the younger man to the end of the jetty before a final push saw Matt tip over the edge, falling into the bay with a mighty splash.

  Bouncing through the surface to gasp in some air he could see Jack above him, almost doubled over with laughter. Matt grinned back at the big man and made his way to the jetty where Jack held out an arm to help his friend. As they reached to grip each other for the lift to dry land, Matt decided to reach with both hands. Jack was expecting the sleight of hand and pulled his arm away. Matt fell back into the bay, to the mirth of the big Canadian.

  “Had enough?” Jack chortled.

  Matt nodded as he made his way back towards the jetty for a second time.

  Back on dry land the two men fell to the floor in fits of laughter, like two schoolboys after a bun fight. In tandem, they rolled onto their backs and clasped their hands behind their heads to gaze at the ever warming sun now beating strongly upon them. They continued laughing at their own silliness for a few more minutes.

  “I have to leave, Jack,” said Matt, taking the levity out of the situation.

  “I know,” replied his friend in a resigned tone. “The cut might buy yur a little more time … twenty minutes or so,” he added.

  The clever quip had them briefly in stitches again.

  “Seriously Jack, if you’ve made me then others probably will.”

  “I know,” came the reply, “I’ve been thinking about it on the way back to town. I have some friends up in Neets Bay, near Ketchikan. Salmon farm it is, almost completely isolated apart from the tourists during summer. I’m sure they’d put yur up over the winter if I asked them.”

  The two men kept looking up to the bright blue sky. They had been friends throughout Matt’s stay on the island. Now it felt like they were blood brothers.

  “Have you ever thought of Holly, Jack?” asked Matt unexpectedly.

  “Holly? What do yur mean lad,” was the gruff reply.

  “You know, Holly,” emphasised Matt.

  “No”

  “Well you should. Take my word for it. A match made in heaven, I promise you.”

  The two men lay in silence.

  “Really?” said Jack, after a few minutes pondering.

  “Really,” said Matt, “give it a try old friend, trust me.”

  At first, this sudden mine of information had Jack bemused as he began to consider the possibility. Matt heard him mumble to himself.

  “Holly? … Holly? … Holly.”

  His murmurings warmed Matt inside as he realised it had finally clicked with the older man. He let him continue to revel in his thoughts for a while before Jack turned his head.

  “Grace is going to miss you, lad.”

  The young man smiled.

  His last favour to his friend done Matt rose to his feet and they stood and faced each other.

  “You are a good person Jack Carter, the best. No-one could wish for a better man to be by his side,” said Matt.

  He threw out his arm to shake his friend’s hand. Jack pulled Matt towards him and they hugged, as men do, slapping each other vigorously on the back.

  “I’ll take yur up tomorrow,” said Jack. “Yur can’t leave Grace without saying a proper goodbye. Johnny’s working today until six. I’ll need someone to moor the boat later though when I get back from Vancouver,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Matt readily agreed to return at six. Jack told him he’d see if he could get some punters on board for the late trip back to Victoria. Matt turned and made his way to The Keg. His heart felt buoyed by the new kinship he had formed with Jack, a feeling of friendship he had never experienced before. And at least he had no more decisions to make. The news article had made them for him. Matt had to disappear from both Jenna and Grace’s lives.

  Grace looked on in horror as the man with the damp clothes and short haircut pushed the front door shut.

  “Excuse me, we’re not open yet,” she said firmly. “It‘s too early in the morning.”

  He turned and a curious, quizzical look came over the delicate woman’s face as she stared at the stranger before realising who it was.

  “Matt?” she said. “What on earth have you done to yourself?” she asked in bewildered surprise.

  “Bit of an accident,” said Matt, “got a little damp.”

  “I meant your hair,” she said, approaching him slowly.

  “That was the second accident,” said Matt, dryly.

  Perplexed she looked closely at Matt’s face, to study his features, and then burst out laughing. He grinned meekly back at her. It was the perfect ice breaker, completely dissolving the awkward barrier erected between the two after the other night’s close encounter in her bedroom. His grin turned into a smile, and then broad laughter too in response to her infectious giggles of amusement. Standing next to him she reached up with her hand and ran it over his neatly cropped hair.

  “It tickles!” she laughed.

  As she lowered herself back down from her tiptoes her hand slid slowly, gently over the side of Matt’s face.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, solemnly.

  She cocked her head to the side and the quizzical look re-appeared on her face.

  “Shouldn’t you change out of those wet clothes?”

  “No. Let’s talk first. It won‘t take long.” He pulled a chair out from under one of the tables for her to sit down.

  Grace listened as Matt explained something unexpected had turned up and he had to leave, as early as tomorrow. He regretted the unavoidable speed of his hasty departure. What particularly saddened him was the fact he would be leaving behind some of the best friendships he’d ever made. In fact, he had come to regard Victoria as his real home. His words were earnest, heartfelt, and his gaze never wavered from her soft brown eyes as he spoke. When he’d finished, he reached across the table and gently placed his hand on top of hers.

/>   “Is it because of the other night?” she asked, with a hint of sadness.

  “No, no, please don’t believe that,” he said quietly.

  He wanted to stay, he insisted, and leaving her behind was absolutely the last thing on his mind.

  “And I mean, the last thing,” he reiterated.

  Grace hesitated to reply. She looked down at Matt’s hand, gently stroking the skin on her forearm, trying to provide reassurance. His fingers lifted to her chin and he gently raised her face up to look at him.

  “I would have waited for you, Grace … no matter how long it would have taken,” he whispered, understanding his heart had overruled his mind.

  Her expression never changed, even as his words reached her ears. They appeared only to confuse Grace further. Having admitted his affection towards her he was now about to pack and walk out of her life, possibly never to return.

  Realising he could say no more Matt rose from his chair and, encouraging her to also rise by lifting her hands from the table, he cradled her in his embrace.

  “Oh! You’re still damp and smelly!” she complained. “Go and clean yourself up,” and she stepped away smiling, always smiling.

  He grinned back and headed upstairs to shower and change. As he disappeared from the bar area Grace turned the key to the front door.

  Wrapping his body in the towelling robe, Matt tiptoed across the hall and entered his room where the fresh clothes were already laid out over the wicker chair. He dried the last drops of water from his torso with the orange towel, standing at the half length mirror hanging on the wall opposite the open window.

  The light tap on the door, hurried him into tightening the robe around his body. Grace walked in.

  She was wearing the pale yellow, silk kimono robe which complemented her dark hair and pale complexion. He noticed her feet were bare. Grace tugged at the cord around the robe allowing the kimono to fall open, partially revealing her wafer thin figure. It slipped away from her shoulders and fell to the floor as she tentatively approached. With each step towards him, Matt felt his own desire rise uncontrollably.

  The soft touching of lips sent an electric charge coursing through his body, as though he’d stepped onto a live electric wire, causing the adrenalin to pump madly around his body. Grace tugged at the cord of Matt’s robe and pushed it away from his shoulders to free his strong arms. His body shook with anticipation at the thought of her soft skin touching his.

  The next kiss, warm and inviting, sent a shudder down his spine. His arms folded around her delicate body and his hands stroked gently up and down the smooth skin of her back as they kissed.

  Placing a hand under each thigh he raised Grace up level to his face and the kisses became more intense, more passionate. Matt’s arms were stronger now, from working at the jetty, and he held her comfortably as the pace of their desire increased. Neither could wait, nor wanted to wait, a moment longer. He lowered her gently down. That first touch as he entered made her moan with pleasure, and she closed her eyes to allow her mind to fully enjoy the physical connection. As Matt pushed deeper inside, her groans became louder and he could feel her body tremble in sheer delight at his firm presence inside her.

  He moved his head to look into her eyes and saw the tears streaming down her face from underneath the closed eyelids. Unsure, he softly tried to kiss them away and her brown eyes opened to give him a loving smile. He knew then these tears were not being shed in sorrow but in liberation, in freedom from the past.

  With her fixed upon him he made to take a step towards the bed.

  “No,” she whispered quietly, “Stay, just as we are, just for a moment,” and she placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him to encourage his co-operation.

  Matt had made love to many women throughout his life. Now he only wanted to make love to one, to Grace. Locked together, neither wanted the moment to end, wishing instead for eternity to call upon them there and then.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Returning Past