by Geoff Wolak
Epilogue
1
‘You’re not going to like this,’ Willis suggested as he entered Dame Helen’s office, reading from a file.
She put down her pen and looked up. ‘What now? It’s five o’clock on a Friday!’
‘Beesely,’ he carefully mouthed.
‘Oh.’ She took off her glasses and eased back into her chair.
‘We’ve gathered some unofficial intel’ from a variety of sources, details still sketchy, but the gist of it is here. Plus we had some very detailed info’ sent directly to us from the old boy himself.’
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘Give me the highlights.’
‘Death count of thirty six around Europe –’
‘Dear God,’ she whispered, straightening.
‘And rising. Wounded, two hundred seriously, another two hundred moderately, some missing.’
‘Christ,’ she quietly let out.
‘Not a good week for neo-Nazi groups in Europe. All headquarters wrecked, funds gone missing, computers and files removed. This has set them back fifty years. No one willing to meet, all too scared.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Can you blame them? Did you say something was sent directly to us?’
‘This ... you’re not going to want to read before bedtime. They’ve made some improvements upon getting the chair.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Improvements?’
Again Willis looked pained. ‘A more effective punishment.’
‘More effective? Than the chair!’
‘More horrific, in a really perverted sort of way.’
She sighed and eased back. ‘Just give me the main points, save the gore.’
‘Well, I don’t know what this guy did exactly, but he certainly made K2 mad. First, they rounded up a group of surgeons. Then they removed his toes, to clinical standards.’
‘Clinical standards?’ she puzzled.
‘The aim was to make sure he lived to a ripe old age.’
‘He’s alive?’
Willis held up a hand. ‘Let me plough through it, then you’ll understand:
‘Removed his toes. Removed two bones from inside each foot, hindering walking. Removed several key tendons from feet, ankles and legs, hindering but not preventing walking. And this is where the surgeons come in - done in such a way as to be irreversible by another surgeon.
‘Knee sockets adjusted to give permanent discomfort. Nerve removed to give semi-permanent lack of sensation down the left side. Two middle fingers of left hand removed, left thumb removed. All fingers of right hand removed, thumb left in place. All teeth except front four removed, two up and two down - looks like Bugs Bunny. Photo attached. Large swastika tattooed on forehead.’ He finished reading and looked up.
‘My God,’ she let out.
‘Best is yet to come. This guy was some sort of Nazi fundraiser apparently. Now he resides in a Jewish hospice somewhere under twenty-four-hour suicide watch. I guess his swastika tattoo won’t make him too popular.’
‘They’re making him suffer,’ she considered, rising and walking to the window. ‘Not just for now, but for years to come. Disabled enough to be in pain and discomfort, but not enough to be life threatening. Not a pleasant prospect, no chance of a quick death for him. And a clear warning to others.’
‘Doesn’t say what he did.’
‘I have an idea, which I am keeping to myself,’ she quietly stated. Then louder, ‘Oh, by the way, should we need it, Beesely has something on Rawlins.’
