How do you begin to justify to someone—that would even remotely make sense to them—why their life had to take such a horrible turn of events? That was the dilemma Papa struggled with when he peered at Jack sitting opposite him in the twin engine plane that had just gained air speed and lifted off the makeshift airstrip in a remote location outside of Kowloon. It was a cruel and harsh decision he had imposed on Jack. Yet as part of his decision he grappled with trying to understand why Jack asked the victim his name?! You don’t personalize a kill! Never! And now the once gregarious person sitting opposite appeared distant and apparently damaged by the experience. He needed time, private time, to provide the rationale behind his thinking to him. Was it a mistake on his part? Maybe Jack needed more preparation? He tried to stretch his memory back to his first kill and the feelings he felt. But too much mental garbage corrupted that idea. He glanced out the window at the ground below half-listening to the chatter of Judy and Ouyang behind him. If asked what they said he could not have told you. His attention was fixed on Jack. And he girded himself for words he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear or to deliver.
Jack’s glance had pierced through the protective envelope that he had cocooned himself in and settled heavily on Papa. He leaned forward, hands grasped, elbows resting along his thighs. His words were soft, reflective, and almost forgiving in their tone. Yet his message carried a subtle sharpness and incisiveness of a rapier.
“I knew him,” Jack began, his voice breaking. “Until yesterday, I did not know his name. But I knew his family.” Briefly his gaze shifted to the landscape passing underneath his window. “Much hardship will fall on his family from what I did. Why could you not have let him go like I suggested?”
Papa stared back long and cold at Jack while he gathered his thoughts. The engine’s hum grew louder as each fleeting breath taken was caked with the fear of a grave misstep about to happen. He cleared his throat and sighed. “I didn’t know.”
“Would it have mattered?” asked Jack.
“I told you what mattered. The rest is noise,” replied Papa.
“Noise?”
“Look. I don’t gain any solace from the fact that you knew his family. I know how it makes matters worse for you.”
“Do you?”
“Do you not think that once I, too, had been in your place?! Except I knew his name! The worst part? He was never the intended target. He was the brother of the sister I was to marry. The organization I worked for always double-checked and tripled-checked the reliability for a kill operation like this. Too late, it was discovered that the go ahead for this kill was based on disinformation provided by a mole.” He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose before readjusting his glasses in place again. “The mole? Evaporated into thin air. Everything about him was fake from the hair on his head to his teeth to his general overall demeanour. It was a well disguised makeover to avoid detection from who he really was. But he made one mistake. During an investigation of his flat we were able to secure what I believe to be a photo of him from the CCTV located at the corner of his street.” Papa tapped his breast pocket. “Now that photo stays close to my heart in remembrance of Qian.”
The quietude of time’s passage—submerged in the mesmerizing drone of the plane’s engines—ran along a line tethered between their gaze at each other.
Jack leaned forward. “It’s not noise.”
Papa sighed. “You’re right! It isn’t.” He sighed again. “But Jack…Do you think knowing his family changes the act? It doesn’t. It only changes you! That’s the cost! What I am about to say may sound cruel to your ears, but it must be said bluntly. If you had wanted to be clean, you shouldn’t’ve have looked so closely.”
“Then where do I find my solace? That’s what I want to know. Do I find it in the fact that I was ordered? Should I cling to that word ‘ordered’ and find solace in playing out my role as your obedient soldier? If so, my obedience doesn’t bleach out what I did or the blood on my hands.”
“You can not carry his ghost, Jack. It will destroy you. And that I would deeply regret! There is no magic bullet to resolve this awful feeling you carry within you. And unfortunately, time will not likely be on the healing side for you. There is a very real possibility that what lies ahead will add to his number. I wish I had control over that possibility, but I don’t.” Papa sat back and scrutinized him closely before he continued. “Have you ever considered the possibility that it’s not the person you killed that you are carrying?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” replied Jack.
“Take a moment and think,” replied Papa. “Maybe its nothing more than the guilt, the questions and the what-ifs you are carrying. And they’re natural feelings. But those things don’t care a nickel whether you sleep, eat, or breathe. Their ultimate goal is to hollow you out—that is if you let them.”
Jack clinched his hands tightly.
“The next storm, Jack, when it comes—and as I indicated it will—you’ll be ready,” added Papa. “Not because you are broken—no, never that—but because you’ve learned to bend.”
Papa could discern the anguish within Jack begin to show signs of mellowing. And he was pleased. Though he had not wanted this conversation at this time it hadn’t been his choice to make. It was Jack’s choice to make not his. Over the years Papa had learned that the impromptu lessons taught and learned—especially in the world he resided in—often turned out to be the most effective. Across from him Jack had already fallen asleep. He felt a nudge at his shoulder, and he turned to see the smiling faces of Judy and Ouyang. In Ouyang’s hand was a silver flask which she passed to him.
“What is this?” he asked her quietly.
“Open and have a taste,” Ouyang replied.
And Papa did what she requested. A Chesire Cat smile filled his face. “Thank you.” he said. The gold liquid he drank was his favorite Scotch whiskey.
Five days later, Papa, Jack, Ouyang and Judy were met at the General Aviation ramp at Pearson Airport outside of Toronto and whisked away in a black Land Rover. Three hours later they drove onto the Pine Meadow’s property and parked beside the house.
Papa had barely knocked on the door when it opened. When it opened, his past, present and future faced him. And it took his breath away.
This ends Part One: When Anguish is a Hound Baying in the Night