The Spook who flew over the cuckoos nest. (BOOK 2)
Page 25
With that, I left Levinson and strolled across toward the figure who, I noticed, was standing with his back to me. I can be bleedin' cynical at times, but then you know that anyway. Its just that I had this weird feeling that something, or other, didn't feel right. For instance, how many people do I know, fully dressed in black garb and matching Bowler? I asked myself. I stretched out and tapped the figure on the shoulder. Excuse me, I said, I believe you want a word? What happened next will remain tattooed on my brain until I'm dead.
Slowly, the stranger turned around. Confronting me, and wearing a 'Silicone Valley' smile, was none other than Rogon! For a full fifteen seconds or more, I just stood there, mouth agape, blinking, looking like a bloody Zombie. So help me, I fucking froze, I tried to speak, I felt numb. It was like somebody had wedged a ruddy great house brick inside my mouth. It can't be. You're fucking dead, was the best I could come up with at the time. I mean, how stupid is that? I thought. So I continued. We cremated you twenty minutes ago. Then he opened up.
Hello, Mike. Yes, indeed it is I, Rogon. And no, fortunately you didn't cremate me, although I expect there were times when it had crossed your mind. It's good to see you again. It’s been far too long. But the service, the cremation, even your reported death. What the hell is going on? He then looked me in the eye, as if he'd never gone away.
A sham, Mike, a total and utter sham from start to finish. The whole thing was so bloody surreal; it felt like we were both having a chat over a cup of tea. I'm still in a daze, nothing is working for me, I asked him the most obvious question that comes to mind. Right, so you're here. Who, then, was the poor bastard in the coffin? 'I never made the arrangements, Mike. He was quick to add, I left that to the backroom boys. Next you're going to tell me, is, that this bloody charade is legal, I suppose. Again, I can't comment on that, Mike. Let's just say that Whitehall will go to extraordinary lengths to appease the PM.
I remembered laughing at the time, and thinking, fucking Brezznov wouldn't agree with you, Rogon. But I still had a problem with Rogon's alleged death. I couldn't figure out what he was gaining out of it, on a personal level. So I confronted him. Putting Brezznov to one side for a minute, it still doesn't explain why you went to all this trouble. There has to be a bigger reason.
He nodded, like only Rogon nods. Basically, Mike. I, we, the agency, did it all for you! Well, I told him straight. Don't patronize me, Rogon. But he continued. You see, my friend, weeks ago, when you told me that the Brezznov mission would be your last. I wasn't prepared to let that happen. For me, this charade, as you put it, has been my way of saying I don't want to lose you, Mike. I might have been out of the frontline, owing to my alleged death, but I have never allowed myself to be that far away from you, if you know what I mean?
I can relate to that, Rogon, I added. It all makes sense to me now. You've been my shadow for weeks. The restaurant, for instance, even Joan picked up on that, amongst other occasions. Does that mean that you're in then, Mike.'? Strangely enough, I didn't have a problem answering him. Rogon, I said, for somebody who's gone to all that trouble, just to prove a point, and then yeah, I'm in.
Funnily enough, I went on, I don't really feel as If I've been away. I swear to God, he had a twinkle in his eye at the time. There and then, we both shook hands. I waited around and watched him leave. He hadn't got very far when he turned round. I always said you'd make a good Spook, Mike, he shouted, and then, just as quickly, he silently disappeared. Like a perpetual shadow, he melted away, lost to the world, in a backcloth created from a thousand and one gravestones.
For a minute or so, I chose to remain there, grabbing at what form of sanity was available. Believe it or not, I didn't give a shit at the time at what could have been on offer. As far as I was concerned, my mind was already made up. See you around, Rogon, I shouted back at him, not that he would have heard anyway. I considered that he must have been as rapt in his own mystique world, as I had become with reality. I can also recall thinking to myself that the expression 'life-after-death' was, to my mind, totally believable. Knowing that Rogon himself had aspired to do the oracle. Smiling generously to myself, I turned on my heel and walked away.
The end.... maybe!