by Nick Brown
‘As well as any other, I suppose.’
‘Good. What I want from you is very simple. I want you to communicate an offer to your people. I would appreciate a prompt response.’
Matthews hoped his gulping breath wasn’t obvious. ‘What is this offer?’
‘I will take all your evil-doers. I can do so in what you might refer to as a “blink of the eye.”’
‘Evil-doers?’
‘Yes. I appreciate that such phrases are subjective so let me be more specific.’ The visitor did not shift around or gesticulate; only his mouth moved as he spoke. ‘Those who have committed or will commit what you consider very serious crimes – murderers, rapists, pederasts.’
‘Will commit?’
‘Yes. I have the means to identify them too. I note that most of your societies possess a surprising reverence for the young, so let us say for the sake of speed and simplicity that I will not take any man or woman under twenty years of age. I should add that I am not interested in anyone over fifty.’
‘What do you mean “take”’?’
‘They will simply seem to have disappeared. The estimate for the first batch is around seven hundred thousand; mostly male, of course. I understand that you simply communicating the offer will not be sufficient so I will carry out a demonstration tomorrow. Your media will ensure that the majority of your people see it. Something like this.’
He waved a hand to his right.
A white man of about thirty appeared. He was scruffily-dressed and staring blankly into the distance.
‘Jean-Charles Dufour. Nobody knows it yet but he has killed his wife and their child. He couldn’t stand the noise anymore. He will kill again.’
The visitor waved his hand once more and the man disappeared.
‘Don’t worry, tomorrow’s demonstration will be far more compelling.’
‘These people. What will you do with them?’
‘That is my concern.’
Donald sat on the edge of the bed in t-shirt and shorts, staring at the floor of the hotel room.
‘You must try to sleep, darling.’
His wife was already under the covers. He had always appreciated her ability to remain calm, even during the most trying times. But he remained where he was; he had not slept at all in the two and a half days since the visit.
‘You’re worried about your legacy. But the decision is not yours.’
‘To begin with, I was sure no leader would agree. Now, nobody dares make a prediction.’
‘I’m not surprised. He showed us what we stand to gain. What did the Post call them? Those who have afflicted humanity. Pamela told me she hopes it happens – not surprising, I suppose, even though they never caught the man.’
‘Seven hundred thousand, Anna. Do you know what that actually looks like?’
‘Either way, our name will live forever.’
Donald stared at the carpet: black diamonds within brown squares. ‘The vote will be close. I may be able to push it one way or the other. Apparently some of the generals think it might be a risk to refuse him.’
‘You want to decide now?’
He turned to her. ‘Yes. Before I have to face them all.’
She went to sit beside him and placed a warm hand on his arm. ‘Perhaps we should pray.’
Jean-Charles Dufour was inside something big and dark that seemed to be moving. The floor was shaking beneath his feet and there was a distant rumbling from above.
When the lights came on, he wished they hadn’t. To his left were a dozen large human men of various creeds, their only common feature the tattoos upon their faces and arms. None of them were talking and all looked as dazed as he felt.
To his right was a slender figure wrapped in a dark cloak. Its head was a grotesque grey lump. Behind it were other similarly outlandish characters, including one that towered over the others and seemed to be made of metal apart from the two glowing red eyes.
After the moment of understanding that this was not real, Dufour expected to wake up. He did not.
He heard a buzzing sound from somewhere then a voice spoke. It seemed to be coming from inside his own head.
You are powerful. You are resourceful, vicious and courageous. Destroy my enemies and you will be rewarded in ways you cannot imagine. Fight for me. Fight for your life. Fight for your future.
The shaking below his feet intensified for a moment then stopped. The far end of the container seemed to disappear. Dufour put up a hand to shield his eyes from blinding white light.
