17
Thicke unbound.
Amelia trembling.
When they met eye-to-eye early this morning, for Thicke this was more like a meeting with the human guilt in a physical shape. Amelia was more circumspect, unsure how to react or what to say. Thicke breaks the ice and says, ‘Good morning!’ with no handshake but plenty of respect. I think this is mutual. Amelia responds with a smile. They sat at this table near the window at the Nero’s by Marylebone Station. Amelia pulls the chair after she drops her keys on the table, but her vision and focus is constantly on Thicke. For him, this meeting is more of a meeting of the minds. Plotters as thick as the wool of a lamb. ‘I never knew that this would have ever been possible! I mean yeah in jail me behind bars and you the culprit…hahaha’ Amelia said. Thicke doesn’t feel that comfortable with the qualification. Fidgeting and slightly frighten, he just smiles back. ‘You never know. That might still be a possibility!’ He rebuts. ‘Ah wow. You are really convinced that can be achieved? You really think that I can end up in jail and you would be the one to feel the full weight of your importance on your shoulders? Do you really think that anything is possible in your world?’ Amelia just can’t believe that she has pronounced these words. ‘No, actually I am not one of these cops who sit in the laurels and feel that everything else around them works for them, in their favour.’ He asks the waiter if they could order some drinks. Amelia looks on her phone, nervous and thoughtful if she has hit the right cord with him. ‘Anyways. I don’t want to go back to all that stuff. Let’s just say that I am a reformed character now and that I intend to change my life.’ She pauses for a moment with her head down and then continues ‘I don’t get it through! I don’t get it how is it possible that I got away for so long, knowing that a lot of agencies would know who is behind most of the cases in London?’ Thicke asks if he can a notepad out and take some notes. ‘Are you confessing?’ He asks inquisitively. ‘I am not confessing for the stuff that you already know. I mean that’s a little bit pointless though isn’t it not?’ Thicke can’t believe his eyes and ears. ‘Not everybody knew of your activity. But someone at the Agency knows about the Institute and I would like that you tell me how is it run and its structure, what it stands for and how do the operations work? How is it possible such organisation is so efficient and ruthless but never ending on its search for creativity, for redemption of the physical form…’ Amelia interrupts ‘Before you go ahead, let me just put you out of your misery; I did not seek to join them or even have any dealings with them. They found me. To be honest, they never taught me or trained me or offered any logistical support at all. Hunting is my trade and my skill.’
Thicke continues to write on his notepad. Amelia touches her nose. ‘I deplore the fact that so much is known out there and here I am in total darkness not having a clue what’s round the corner!’ Thicke continues to write ‘Well, you should’ve known of the consequences,’ Amelia sips her tea ‘I guess I have been a fool, haven’t I?’ She spoke. ‘I don’t think you have been a fool at all. I mean you have misjudged situations, circumstances, people – but that is about it.’ He looks at her but is almost glued to his Mont Blanc, writing uninterruptedly, scurrying away like a journalist catching every word of his prey.
‘Ok, I get it. So, all you need or want from me is for me to reveal to you everything!?’ Amelia interjects attempting to draw his attention ‘Honestly. I will pay full attention to you soon. Just about to finish the notes!’ He tells her. Amelia begins to lose patience slightly. She picks up a teaspoon next to the empty cuppa standing upside down and starts playing with it to calm her nerves. Thicke knows that his technique of making his “clients” nervous and lose patience always has worked and this time round is no different. He can sense that Amelia is becoming impatient, almost mnemonically, in her head thinking of scenarios of escape, even contemplating lying as much as she could just so she can extract maximum of her relief and create time or space for her to breathe freely.
‘No, what I want from us is that we work together and in return you get leniency or if I am crazy enough or in the coming in a good mood, I can actually get you out of your hole completely!’ Amelia wants to believe him but isn’t sure. She takes no prisoners, and she takes no shit ‘I have a better idea. Why don’t you just let me do what I do. Because that is the only thing that I am good at. I couldn’t give a shit about saving your arse or anybody’s for that matter!’ She sips more of her tea. Thicke folds up his notebook. He puts one palm on top of the other ‘I need to see the letters.!?’ He spoke. Amelia becomes instantly suspicious that this might be a monetary drive behind it. ‘What letters?’ Amelia playing dumb. ‘Don’t try that with me Amelia!’ She doesn’t take the warning seriously enough ‘What are you talking about…?’ Thicke without any hesitation and with the speed of light or faster grabs her by her shirt, pulls her towards his face and in an angry tirade tells her to give him the letters. Amelia isn’t very much impressed ‘So, violence huh! Haha you are such an idiot. You are just your leverage stupid. You should know that violence to me is the embodiment of my character, I feed on it and I can control it. I know you hate that fact because that is one thing you can’t do. Because that is one thing you are – shit at violence. Woman beater and an abuser of power. A corrupt cop who can’t contain his dick. A useless husband and a cock of a leader.’ She stands up , throws him the napkin, and walks off. It doesn’t take that long for Thicke to give her the chase. ‘Amelia, Amelia, I am sorry. Ok. I am sorry. I just flipped. Am sorry. Can you just stop for a minute and let me explain!?’ Amelia stops. Tears slip on her cheeks gently. Once Thicke realised what he’d done, his heart pounds pacing hard. He knows he can’t lose Amelia, and this is a big deal. He has pressed the wrong buttons so far. Now he needs a different technique to handle Amelia. Or probably there are no techniques, it’s just gentleness peering thru his head which needs to be controlled or delivered somehow for the benefit of the unity, saving the moment, and savouring the project. Or, probably there is more to it than he can think of. There is probably more he can do. Amelia stands tall in front of him. But he is lost for words. She persistently stares at him without flinching a nanosecond. ‘I do need to tell you more. That is why I arranged for this meeting. Would you please just give me your afternoon? We can go somewhere private, where we’re not seen by anyone, and we can talk!’ Amelia folds her arms and half-biting her tongue with her piercing eyes she agrees. ‘I can’t give you all afternoon, but I can give you three hours. We can go to my flat. But we need to go the separate way. You know where I live. That’s my key. Open the front door and grab the lift to the 4th. Make sure you are not seen!’ Thicke picks up the keys and slides them quickly in his inside left pocket. Amelia disappears in a whiff. Thicke strolls down the road, slow as usual and head full of doubts.
**
If you ever thought that their meeting is the colloquial ‘Meeting of the minds’ will clearly be an underestimation. For Thicke, the idea that he must tell Amelia everything from the scratch is a risky strategy. Whereas for Amelia things are much simpler – She has absolutely nothing to lose. But she is contended to tell William all that is needed without holding anything up. ‘I wouldn’t want to know really everything that you want to tell me!’ Thicke tells Amelia whilst he is sipping the fizzy drink, she had served him ‘Don’t worry. I do know where the boundaries are and, in all honesty, you shouldn’t worry about me. I know what I am doing,’ she pulls the drawer which is next to the moving bookshelf and picks up tablets. She pours a few and then looks at Thicke with the condescending but fancying face ‘I do want to tell everything. And that I wouldn’t tell you that just because I have a good heart. I will tell you because I have a heavy load in my shoulders, and you are my only person who can help in unloading it off my back!’ She sips water from a half a glass on top of her desk next to the balcony door. You would think that Thicke is the one who should be watching his back now and going forth. This could be a critical point when Amelia can just blow up, she can from this point on choose to be creative. This is her own territory and over here she does tend to take things under control. ‘Listen! They’re just fanatics and cataphiles. They hate people. They hate the young. They hate the prospect that one day they might not be here anymore – they might not be amongst the living. OK, they want to extend life at any cost, but they are much more vicious than you think.’ Thicke folds his arms, giving the look of someone who is ready to hear more. ‘I don’t believe in conspiracy theories Amelia, but this is just a conspiracy. I just don’t believe you as much as you want me to believe you. I mean all this about taking bodies to them and then them using these bodies as an internal secret, well-crafted and organised network of cannibalism – I mean come on.’ Amelia pulls the bookshelf toward her chest as hard as she can whilst Thicke is watching carefully with one hand in his left pocket and the other on the holster just under his leather jacket. ‘Follow me!’ She spoke. Thicke is unsure but decides to follow his instinct and trust a serial killer for a second. He pretends hard to look cool and not panicky. Amelia disappeared in the adjacent room beyond and through the bookshelf. Thicke stagnating walks toward the room. The quicker he walks toward it the more circumspect he becomes. What stands out, in his mind at least is that the room is dark, and Amelia is nowhere to be seen until she turns the light on and in an inviting voice, she asks him not to be afraid and just ‘Come in. let me prove to you what I mean.’ He finally finds the strength and the courage to walk in. There, right in front of him lies the body of a stranger. Totally frozen, purple in colour but solid in its dead state. Thicke wants to swallow his own quick accumulated saliva but finds himself breathless. He cannot believe his eyes. He steps out of the room. ‘You cannot show me this. I must arrest you now. You cannot do this!’ Amelia begins laughing and the grinder noise is heard from the room. Thicke finding himself at the edge of the door with his handkerchief on his mouth watches over Amelia whilst she cuts the body with precision. The spraying and sprinkling bits of ice mixed with human flesh sprout out everywhere. ‘You see there is an art in all of this. You must be extremely careful how you conduct this thing. I mean you don’t want to go through smoother bits in the chest area, especially if it’s a woman because the body loses value.’ And she continues cutting and the drilling the joints so she can extract the bone-marrow the much prized and highly valued asset. Thicke has gone beyond being shocked. He decides to stand there and just stare at her and the works. The inner animal in Thicke is much stronger and ruthless than any other good trait that he has. Amelia is adamant that she will succeed in converting Thicke into the better understanding of her “Job”. She is convinced that Thicke will be on her side once he understands the whole business of the Institute. ‘You see. You stand there by the door disgusted, never questioning the intentions of humanity, never questioning the deeper understanding of why humans commit such “transformative mission”. You sit there and analyse the intentions but never the causes, the origin of a killing of the “Transformative mission”. You stand there as an opposite polar of what a good and civilised citizen should do: instead of running toward the day-to-day nomenclature, ever inflating elite, and questioning their deep intentions – you go for the jugular and hit the weak, the ones that can be captured easily and from you would probably get more out of it just because they are weak. You don’t investigate and uncover Mr Thicke – you stall, you kill opportunities, you finest people’s lives and livelihood, you oppress those who want to live freely, you imprison clean and creative consciousness, you inhale their souls whilst the real killers are set free, to lead, to manage, to instruct and direct, to guide, to earn and to teach, to accumulate richness and discriminate, to set rules and to make them, to rule and live long and in absolute happiness.’ By the time she ends her sentence, she is cutting hard, deep into the lower abdomen of the body. ‘This bit here is the hardest bit to cut but also the most prized.’ She lifts the icy, sliced up piece of flesh. Thicke looks away. The upper face of the body is unrecognizable as most of it have become perfectly, thin-cut slices of tradeable product. Thicke’s legs begin to feel a little bit jelly. Then he focuses his attention on the cutting of the area below the abdomen but unable to focus for long, his head becomes itchy and his back even itchier and his eyes watery but unable to move away from the focus on the dead body. He comes closer to Amelia. She is oblivious to Thicke’s intentions. Then he touches her hand slowly, Amelia looks at him straight into the eye. She drops the grinder. Thicke holding her from the lower back, touches her hair but slowly tightening his grip on her torso. Amelia turns toward him, kisses him on his upper lip. They both had known for a very long time that they fancied each other. They admired each other’s skills and work. They both feel that they have so much to give to the world around them and that this is their time. For Amelia this is something that she has been looking forward for quite some time now, wretched world of hiding and running away at last she is much closer to the power. Something has got to give. What is important is that she hasn’t given away a lot, still in contend with her warped reality and the past deeds. But all of this will change all of that. This is much more like it.
18
Brew dog poison!
The days hasn’t started that well for Thicke. He can’t remember where he is or what he has done yesterday, last night as a matter of fact. He doesn’t know how he is going to justify the overnight stay to himself let alone the wife, the team or anybody else. The head feels heavy, the trousers are heavy too and not much left to think about how he feels. Gnawing pain in the stomach seems to go unstoppable. He remembers that last night he was awake in the middle of the night and the pain in the stomach was still there, pinching and stabbing him deep in the stomach. It’s not the first time he has felt that pain. He had been feeling it for quite some time now. No one knows. And this is his mastery that Thicke can do things his own way and not many people will not know anything. He gets up slowly. To him the bathroom door seems to be miles away from the bed. But he perseveres somehow. Just as he presses the door handle the outside door opens and there is a cleaner standing there ‘Am sorry sir. Am so sorry…’ No that’s fine Thicke responds quickly and politely. You can come in and do you cleaning if you’d like. The cleaner stands there hesitant. She doesn’t know how to take that. ‘I will come back Sir. Sorry!’ She leaves, shuts the door back ‘Ok. As you wish.’ He mumbles. Whilst in the bathroom, his phone rings. Its Paul. ‘I wonder what he is up to now.’ Thicke ignores the ringing. He decides to ring him back a little later. There are more important things to be dealt with today. In the corner of the room, he sits at the desk and puts the lamp on. He opens his red notebook and revisits the notes he has made during the time when he was surveying Amelia. All the dates and times and locations are confirmed. He double-checks again. Again, it is confirmed that all her movements are accurate. But one thing is missing though – Her trips to the Institute! He goes back to the past pages of the notebook and notices that there are two attached papers almost glued one on top of the other. ‘This is strange!’ He whispers to himself. I just can’t remember doing that myself. After spending a few minutes trying to split the two pages he gives up. This is much harder than he thought it would be. He faces the pages onto the light to see if he can get through to see anything that’s written on it. Only a scribble or two and not much in there. He feels suddenly, this awakening feeling. ‘Huh. I need to head back in the office!’ He waves a taxi right outside the Montcalm. The journey only lasts eight minutes. At the back seat of the taxi, he wonders about the attached pages. It bothers him a lot. On top of all that, the missing breakfast, not being able to drink anything and all malarkey of the past few days have given him a sense of retribution about everything that he has done so far. Next thing the taxi driver decides to bother him ‘Oh, I think I know you sir!?’ But Thicke doesn’t respond. The taxi driver decides not to pursue anymore. ‘Is this ok sir?’ Am sorry I can’t take you all the way down to the street sir as the road is in the lockdown!’ The word lockdown hits him straightaway. ‘Lockdown!?’ What do you mean?’ in a mumbling way asks the driver. ‘Ah yes the whole Brick Lane and Hanbury Street have been in lockdown since early hours of the morning. A huge fire has encapsulated this whole block of buildings over there…can you see?’ The taxi driver points the finger at the area which splits Hanbury Street from Brick Lane the intersection. Thick plough of smoke still comes out of the building. There must be about twenty or so fire engines and at least ten or so police cars. Thicke steps out of the taxi and stares at the intersection. This is very hard to take. He can see that from the distance Amelia’s flat and his office is totally scarred. There he stands, staring at the distance, powerless with the realisation that everything might have ended, the relief and inner, secret, camouflaged happiness. The chance that he may decide to rethink everything afresh, new start, new beginning.
***
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