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Chapter 18

 

 

When did I fall asleep?  Have I been dreaming?  Diana's coming out of the bathroom already showered.  

"It's time for breakfast." 

Thank goodness. I'm starving! It's still our first morning and I just had a terrible dream.

Yet, I do seem to be covered in bruises; my balls throb; my thighs ache; and my nipples are very sore.

As Diana is already dressed, she says: "I've ordered you a full breakfast, you've got a busy day ahead of you 003... Go into the bathroom and hide when it arrives.  And if you're good, when you return - I'll let you use that in a new way that we'll both enjoy," alluding to my sudden involuntary erection after she called me 003. 

"I'm leaving now. I need to make a trip to the airport to leave your map for Geraldo."  She's dressed as I've never seen or imagined her, in stockings high heels and a yellow suit, complete with hat, gloves and handbag. I experience a surge of lust for this new, sophisticated, woman.

"I need you to wait for half an hour after I leave. Then go down the stairs to the lower lobby and leave by the back entrance. You can make your way to the falls down through the gardens. I've put out some of Geraldo's running clothes that should fit you. You'll look like a guest going for a morning run. Wrap the knife from last night in a napkin and put it in your pocket. When you return, come back the same way and use the house phone for me to let you up."

She gives me a smile and an air-kiss, from scarlet lips, as she closes the door.

It all comes back. It was no dream. She's Kikka and I'm 003 and if I don't kill Geraldo for her this morning, there's a video that will be automatically published. In that case I'm certain to be caught and jailed as a blackmailer; rapist; thief; and sexual deviant. My only hope is to stop that website and destroy all the evidence. I've no idea how to stop a website and if I could maybe she can publish anyway.  But if I can destroy the evidence, I might escape jail. Then I need to grab my stuff and run. 

Where is the evidence? Where's my stuff?  

All I can find is some old running clothes, shoes and socks. They don't even have any labels. Everything else is gone. Camera; wallet; camera cards; and my clothes and jacket. All gone! All except a sharp steak knife and a napkin to wrap it in. She's thought of everything: no bloody knife staining my pants when I return. Well, I'm not taking that. In the bright light of day, I'm no secret agent. When it comes to the actual reality of killing someone, I'm a coward.

But searching everywhere for the evidence has paid off. I've found my rental-car key. It was under that big chair. It must have fallen from my jacket pocket, out of sight when Diana took the locker key. So, I'll leave the cliff path early and head for the car. The fork to the car park is well before I reach the meeting place that I marked on that map. I remember it well: the one with my handwriting and my prints all over it, that Diana never touched.

My travel bag and the rest of Geraldo's money is in the car. So, I'm going to use it to get out of here. I'll drive across into Brazil then go east. I'll ditch the car in a favela and hide out in Rio until the heat is off. 

***

As I run out of the garden entrance, I realise it's Monday and hardly anyone's around. Sunday was lost, spent indoors. I've seen one or two hotel guests but they were not surprised to see a fellow guest coming from the stairs and going for a morning run. I'm away clear. The turn off to the car park is just after the spot where I first kissed Kikka, less than two days ago. It seems like a lifetime.

I'm rounding the corner to our lookout. There's a familiar figure sitting on the rail. Geraldo's obviously expecting me, he's playing with his stiletto, stabbing holes in that post like an idiot. His brief preoccupation is my only chance to catch him by surprise. I accelerate to a dash. I'll throw him over the rail. He's seen me. His knife is ready and waiting. 

Somehow, we've both gone over the rail in a wrestler's struggle. Geraldo's knife is buried in my side, below my ribs. It's probably serious but doesn't hurt much. I pull it out and plunge it down into his neck. That's done some damage. Like the brothers in arms, we once were, we continue to embrace, as we tumble, peacefully, over the edge, into the morning mist.

They say that as you die your whole life passes before you. Just so, this misty place has now recorded all my thoughts, from when I got here with Diana until my present embrace with Geraldo. Like a message in sand, my memories float here, in the mist, for my future biographer's reinterpretation, as he comes to marvel at the falls and breathes them in. 

My last thought is of my Mistress Kikka. She'll be disappointed in me. The car-key was a test for her Agent 003 - one that I've failed. But her plan, like all of her plans, was failsafe. Sticky red dots are so easily moved - even if Diana had to do it herself.

 

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Travel

Spain and Portugal

 

 

Spain is in the news.

Spain has now become the fourth Eurozone country, after Greece, Ireland and Portugal, to get bailout funds in the growing crisis gripping the Euro.

Unemployment is high and services are being cut to reduce debt and bring budgets into balance.  Some economists doubt this is possible within the context of a single currency shared with Germany and France. There have been violent but futile street demonstrations.

Read more: Spain and Portugal

Fiction, Recollections & News

The McKie Family

 

 

 

 

Introduction

 

 

This is the story of the McKie family down a path through the gardens of the past that led to where I'm standing.  Other paths converged and merged as the McKies met and wed and bred.  Where possible I've glimpsed backwards up those paths as far as records would allow. 

The setting is Newcastle upon Tyne in northeast England and my path winds through a time when the gardens there flowered with exotic blooms and their seeds and nectar changed the entire world.  This was the blossoming of the late industrial and early scientific revolution and it flowered most brilliantly in Newcastle.

I've been to trace a couple of lines of ancestry back six generations to around the turn of the 19th century. Six generations ago, around the turn of the century, lived sixty-four individuals who each contributed a little less 1.6% of their genome to me, half of them on my mother's side and half on my father's.  Yet I can't name half a dozen of them.  But I do know one was called McKie.  So, this is about his descendants; and the path they took; and some things a few of them contributed to Newcastle's fortunes; and who they met on the way.

In six generations, unless there is duplication due to copulating cousins, we all have 126 ancestors.  Over half of mine remain obscure to me but I know the majority had one thing in common, they lived in or around Newcastle upon Tyne.  Thus, they contributed to the prosperity, fertility and skill of that blossoming town during the century and a half when the garden there was at its most fecund. So, it's also a tale of one city.

My mother's family is the subject of a separate article on this website. 

 

Read more: The McKie Family

Opinions and Philosophy

The reputation of nuclear power

 

 

One night of at the end of March in 1979 we went to a party in Queens.  Brenda, my first wife, is an artist and was painting and studying in New York.  Our friends included many of the younger artists working in New York at the time.  That day it had just been announced that there was a possible meltdown at a nuclear reactor at a place called a Three Mile Island , near Harrisburg Pennsylvania. 

I was amazed that some people at the party were excitedly imagining that the scenario in the just released film ‘The China Syndrome’  was about to be realised; and thousands of people would be killed. 

Read more: The reputation of nuclear power

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