The response he received left him chuckling long after Jeremy ended the call.
IN A BARN OUTSIDE KRAMINKO- TWELVE DAYS POST THE JUDGMENT DAY
Daniel Xavier opened his eyes with an effort, despite the headache, which made his every single effort a load of exasperation. He was lying on dry grass and the place smelled of the stench of animal feces. When he lifted his head from the ground and gazed around, he saw what he perceived to be barn doors with small holes, which served as the only gateway for the rays of light that illuminated the dark barn. He tried to scream for help, but the duct tape secured his mouth. So were his hands and legs.
He tried to remember how he happened to end up in the place, which dragged him into the depths of his memory. The last thing he knew was stepping outside his door to walk to the neighbor’s and… then taking a hit to the back of his head. He knew that the motive was not any robbery. As he strained to make sense of the motive, the beefy guy came into his mind. The terrifying structure and the serious looks on the guy’s face had given him creeps, which made him sense something bad.
As he began connecting the beefy guy to his plight, the barn doors opened with a noise, which hurt Daniel’s eyes, and a Ford van reversed into the barn. As Daniel strained to have a clear look at the scenario, the silhouette of a beefy man stepped out and walked towards him. When he was four feet away from Daniel, he pointed a flashlight in his direction and shone it at Daniel. Once he made a mental record of Xavier’s status, he switched it off and walked back to the barn’s entrance. Daniel doubted if the beefy guy was the same one, he had seen earlier. As he lay there, marveling with his doubts, the beefy guy closed the doors of the barn and switched on a powerful LED bulb, which illuminated the whole place. He turned back, confirming Daniel’s doubts, and retreated back to the rear of the van to open its doors. He caught hold of two human bodies and dragged them out of the van onto the barn floor with ease, as if they were sacks of grains ready to sell in the market. He closed the doors of the van and turned back to Daniel.
‘Hey Xavier, I got you some company,’ he said.
THE MAN WHO LOST IT ALL
MILLER’S RESIDENCE- TWELVE DAYS POST THE JUDGMENT DAY
SLEEP HAD ALWAYS been a difficult thing to achieve for Jeremy, but never did it seem so impossible. He lay still on the bed with his left arm lying carefully by his side, wondering whether to feel happy for eliminating a back-stabber or mourn the death of a dearest friend. Whatever he decided to perceive, he wanted to savor the excitement of having finally captured the scoundrel, who had gone for days together, digging through the history of the Rochen Fort Blasts. When he felt that he had assembled what all the knowledge he could about the conspiracy behind the blasts, he felt contentment about his achievement and the benefits he was going to harvest from its knowledge. When he received a lead about someone investigating the conspiracy, it had the contrasting effect on him.
When the blasts shook the country, he was just a 12-year old, who felt happy about being announced three-days off school to grieve the loss. He had never had a clue as to what way it was going to change the course of his life.
He instinctively turned to his left, but instantly realized that it was a weak spot to pressure upon and carefully turned to his right. He peered at the bedside clock, which announced two o’ clock in the morning. He realized that it was going to be one of those days, which he starts with a massive headache and feel hung-over despite having given up drinking since long.
It is a big day ahead.
THAT MORNING
When Jeremy, ready to leave, stepped in front of the mirror at 8.50 in the morning, he wondered if he was leaving to torture someone to spill out the truth or attend a party, except for the sling and the impetuous look on his face. He adjusted his shabby hair and left his room. When he reached the dining room, the ham sandwich prepared by his maid lay neatly wrapped on the table, as he had insisted. He grabbed it off the plate and walked away to the car, waiting for him in front of the door. Once he got in, John put it in gear and drove away.
‘Have you talked to Adam?’ he asked, taking a bite of the sandwich.
‘Yes sir. He left the barn few minutes ago to join the people staged outside the Cyber Crime Police Station. According to what they acquired, the arrested detainees would be detained to the RCAF court for prosecution. He said that he would try his best to capture him without messing with the military.’
‘Yeah, right now, it’s best to stay out of the military’s hairs. What about that journalist?’
‘He’s still unconscious. Our people are guarding the barn holding him.’
‘Is Adam sure he is not dead?’
John took a pause, which made Jeremy doubt the scenario. ‘He’s pretty sure he is alive. My blow was a bit hard for the small guy.’
‘If he dies before giving me what I need, you’ll be as dead as this ham,’ Jeremy said, plucking a chunk off the sandwich.
John nodded his head, wiping sweat off his forehead.
There was utter silence in the SUV, as John drove on with Jeremy feasting on the final bits of the sandwich, until Jeremy yelled at John to stop the car. John slammed hard on the brakes and looked around him to find what caused Jeremy to call for the halt. When he turned to Jeremy, he was gazing through his window at the apparently deserted house to his right.
‘Stay here,’ he said and stepped out.
Jeremy felt the sudden surge of memories as he stood on the pavement, gazing at the house, where he had spent his days with Evelyn. He involuntarily walked over to the front door and stood gazing at the doorknob. He patted his coat-pocket for the key, which he always carried with him, not for the key, but for the locket it had linked to it, which had the photo of himself, Evelyn and Rick grinning at the camera. He unlocked the door with it and the dusty living room welcomed him. He strolled in, but stopped in his tracks when the sound of paper under his foot drew his attention to the scattered letters on the floor. He stepped back and picked them off the floor. As he went through them, they were mostly letters about various bills he had to pay, which he had paid online. But the letter that caught his attention was a letter addressed to him from a Mr. Lang, whose address was absent on the envelope.
Despite being unable to explain why he felt drawn to that letter in particular, he pulled the letter from the envelope and began reading through it.
To Mr. Jeremy Jol Miller,
This letter is to acknowledge you as to what circumstances led to your capture by the SAF and the episodes that followed it.
As to my knowledge, your capture happened as a part of an agreement between Ethan Holland and the Head of East division, Belfort Kyl Harper. You were on the SAF’s radar for more than two months before your capture. But it was Ethan Holland who arranged for your capture in the most dramatic way possible; an accident, choreographed by Ethan and Belfort together. The attack on SAF’s den, which eventually led to your escapade from SAF, was a hoax raid staged by Mercupo Liberation Society’s leader and Belfort to let you fall into their hands. Belfort is the one responsible for you facing a fate that I could only imagine as horrible. It is as far as I could grasp as of now and would like to notify you as to what little progress I could make regarding the foul play against you.
I honestly regret the fate you had to meet just because of some wrongful affiliations between a terrorist organization and a corrupt official.
Yours faithfully
Mr. Lang.
Once he was through the letter twice, he folded it and pocketed it. He settled on the dusty couch and buried his face in his palms, with the episodes of his past streaming through his mind.
THE MEMOiR
Pain radiating through his head must have activated his reticular system, for he woke up with a start. The surroundings reminded him of his dreadful moments in the clutches of SAF. And he began doubting if he had ever managed to escape from them. But there was something quite different in the surroundings, which did not make a sudden sense. As he began givin
g more attention to his surroundings, despite the fear and his hammering heart, he found the difference in the appearance of the people, who stood surrounding him, and the flag, which lay tied to a pole, wishing for some wind to blow it. It was the flag of the Mercupo Liberation Society. He swallowed hard. However, somewhere in his mind, a flicker of hope lighted up. He had worked, or at least voted, against the occupancy of the Mercupo Islands by the MNCs earlier that year. He expected that resistance to play in his favor.
When he found the people moving aside to give way for someone, his attention deviated. As he lay there wondering who it was, Mudassir Al-Mustafa appeared in front of him. He stood there, without speaking a word, observing Jeremy, as if he was the latest Benz model in display. But what appeared in his eyes mystified Jeremy.
‘So, we have Mr. Jeremy Jol Miller, the son of Donald Jol Miller,’ he said, raising his arms into the air and pointing at Jeremy. He paced towards Jeremy and stood few inches away from his face. He pulled out a knife from his pocket and incised Jeremy’s bruised palm. He ran his finger over the incision and lifted the finger to show Jeremy his own blood. His grin disappeared and he stood up. ‘Mr. Miller, you have a visitor.’ Jeremy’s fear escalated at the sight of the man’s over-respect for him. Only crooked bastards respect you more before slitting your throat.
As he moved aside to let the silhouette of a big man approach Jeremy from the shadows, his heart raced. As he strained his eyes to see the person…
BACK FROM THE PAST
The sound of his ringing phone brought him back from the past and he nervously reached into his pocket and fished it out. It was Adam on the line.
‘Sir, I captured the man and someone who seems to be his friend. Where shall I take them?’
‘A friend? Send me his photo.’
‘Yes sir.’
The stranger’s revelations sparked a fire in his heart. Everything that had happened to him was what some people had designed to happen. He formed a fist with his hand and released it repeatedly; the new pain fueled the already blazing fire in him. And he knew that it wouldn’t be long before everyone responsible succumbed to it.
He stood up and walked to the door. In the time it took Adam to send him the photo, Jeremy stepped out of the house and locked the front door. When he reached for the car’s door, his phone pinged. The photo he received filled him with a sense of euphoria and he texted Adam to bring them to the barn where the journalist remained a captive.
As the car drove wove its way through the traffic, Jeremy sensed his spirits escalating and realized that his excitement outweighed his insomnia.
What a pleasant day, my dears!
TÊTE-À-TÊTE
IT TOOK THE sound of a car, the thud of some surfaces and some muffled voices for Daniel Shelby to wake up from his unconsciousness. It took the help of duct tape to bind his hands together behind his back. He found Manyap, who claimed to be his friend, and a man with familiar face by his side in a similar state. Putting some effort into recognizing the face, he recognized him as Daniel Xavier, his unaware benefactor. When he looked down at his abdomen to find what caused the dampness, he found the red staining of his t-shirt, which was soaked with blood. He prayed for the safety of his major arteries, while marveling over who brought him there.
The opportunity to puzzle over who abducted him evaded him, since he found the silhouettes of two figures approaching them. Then a light turned on somewhere in what-was-a-barn and the figures came into clear view. One of them the beefy guy, who abducted them, and the other, a tall man with a square face, blue eyes and a pointed nose, with his left arm held in a sling.
As the duo approached them, Daniel doubted if it had something to do with his blank era. He kept his eyes open and watched them approach. The tall man removed his sunglasses and pocketed them. He looked in the direction of the beefy guy, who walked through the dry grass on the floor and woke Xavier with a kick in his belly, followed by the same in case of Daniel and Manyap. The big foot missed Daniel’s wound by inches, but left him in pain. Xavier woke up without a flicker of startle, which made Daniel believe that he was conscious when he received the kick.
Jeremy squatted down in front of Daniel Xavier, as if he was oblivious to the other two in the barn, and gazed at him intently. He reached with his right hand towards Xavier’s chin and examined his face by turning it to both sides.
‘So, you’re the person investigating “Operation Rochen Fort”?’ he asked, without any expression. He nodded his head, despite receiving no response. ‘I don’t understand people going behind things that don’t concern them. You see,’ he said, poking his index finger into Xavier’s face, ‘that attitude is what fires me up. You don’t know what I can do when I feel insane.’
Xavier tried his best to hide his fear and appear brave. ‘You’re as insane as the people who planned the blasts.’
Jeremy shook his head in dissatisfaction. ‘You don’t understand what is at stake here if this thing spreads out, do you?’
‘What are at stake are the lives and reputations of those bastards who killed innocent people. Your father’s one of those. I believe you know about that since you refer to it as “Operation Rochen Fort” instead of Rochen Fort Blasts.’
Jeremy massaged his thighs and clasped his hands together. ‘Daniel, you don’t seem so understanding. I do not know since when you have been investigating this, but I first came to know this from…Gary Pti Fernandez, who was a close friend of Ross Wud Jankis. And you know what, after I extracted what all he knew, I killed the old boy. Killing isn’t a big thing for me buddy. It is just my sport. Killing kind-of soothes me down,’ he said, licking his lips.
Daniel Shelby sat there looking at the man, who had just announced that he had killed his father. He felt at a loss of words, despite trying to pull himself together and assault Jeremy. His attention completely shifted from his bleeding wound, and he stared at Jeremy with hatred and anger, at a loss of words.
‘Yeah, looks like that. Just like your father, Donald, who fixed the explosive in Ross’s car, then made a report about the explosive composition and all, and posed as a fucking savior in front of the media. You know what, I felt happy when I heard that someone shot him like a dog in his own office. He deserved it.’
While Daniel Xavier expected Jeremy to get furious, he burst into laughter. Xavier eyed him, as if he was a maniac.
‘Daniel, do you expect me to get enraged by your comment? What I care about is not Donald’s exposure as a murderous son of a bitch. All I care about is people casting me out as an outcast just because Donald happens to be my father. Do you know what happens to me after this comes out? They will treat me like an anti-social, and people start treating me as if I am Donald Jol Miller himself. No, I am Jeremy Jol Miller, a boy of twelve years during the blasts, who knew nothing about the conspiracies. Do these people care about it? No. All they do is pass me down the guilt of my father, call me what all they please and cast me out like a terrorist. I have to notify you that Mr. Godwin had called me minutes ago while I was on the way and offered me a place in Fremian National Party. I’ll be nominated to the parliament and might as well be the next Prime Minister candidate in the coming few days. You see, the sympathy factor does work out. So, what happens to all these privileges if the truth spills out? The truth is good for nobody and harsh for everybody.
‘So, if you possess anything related to Operation Rochen Fort in paper or something, let me destroy it and set you free.’
This time, it was Daniel Xavier’s turn to laugh aloud. Adam started in his direction, but Jeremy halted him.
‘So, you want me to believe this shit. Go tell these stories to your son.’
Jeremy had had enough. He swung his clenched fist at the side of his face and it made contact with Xavier’s jaw, gushing blood out of his mouth. Daniel fell down on the ground and spitted blood onto the grass, while Jeremy stood over him with a grinning face.
‘Daniel, let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there ex
isted a little boy of about four. He had a mother and father; the father was a drunkard mechanic. But he treated his wife and son good. The boy loved the father very much. However, the wife claimed his drinking problem as the sole reason behind their poverty and began seeing a well-to-do government official. After developing some acquaintance with each other, the wife and the official finally decided to get rid of the drunkard husband. They murdered the drunkard, married and lived a good life in riches. The boy got all the materialistic things he lacked due to the drunkard’s poverty. However, he missed the love of the drunkard father.
‘Now, you are the kid. I am the official and the truth about Operation Rochen Fort is your drunkard father. You must have lost someone in the blasts, which must have triggered you to embark on this path to uncover the truth. If you let the truth out, all the concerned people will target you and try to rip you off into shreds. If you let go, you could at least live life peacefully. I can help you financially. Marry a pretty girl, have kids and enjoy life,’ Jeremy said, helping Daniel onto his knees.
Daniel maintained a blank expression on his face for a few moments, while Jeremy stared at him intently, oblivious to the other two.
‘I have tried to explain it to you the right way,’ he said, with a blank face. Daniel Xavier fell back suddenly as Jeremy’s fist collided into his nose, shattering his nasal bones. Xavier’s arm muscles flexed tightly as he tried to pull them free of the duct tape and cup his bleeding nose. ‘See for yourself what happens to you if you fucking mess with me!’ he yelled, for the first time attending to Manyap and Daniel.
The Memoir Page 12