The Paths of Destiny

March 17, 2001 Continued:

At Storm’s suggestion, we went to a small motel on the outskirts of town, where we took four rooms, and proceeded to get what Nick described as a short nap.

Like a mother hen herding her chicks back to the coop, very fussily, Miss Mathers directed us to our rooms. It wasn’t until after I had settled myself down that I noticed she’d been very careful to place Commander Vallance and me as far apart as possible.

Just as I was dropping off to sleep, Jasmine arrived.

“Robert! Robert, wake up!”

I immediately opened my eyes and sat up.

“What is it, Jasmine?” I asked.

“A poor excuse for a hotel room if it doesn’t have a chess set,” she said looking around with a grimace. “Did you bring the traveling set with you?”

One thing I’d learned was to carry a travel bag with me in case I had to pull all-nighters. Change of clothes, toothbrush, razor, and for Jasmine, the travel chess set. I had other things in the bag as well for my tools of the trade, but the rest was the most essential. When I first started carrying a travel bag during my days as a cop, my partners would always make jokes about it. That is until they wound up having to pull all night stakeouts.

“Of course I did,” I said as I went to get the chess set. “White or Black this time?”

“White,” she said absently. “Robert, she is dangerous. Very dangerous, this Sara Porter. She is plotting something, but I don’t know what. This encounter with her could prove to be very perilous to you.”

“In what way?” I asked as I continued to set up the board. “You think she might’ve been trained in some kind of dark art or something?”

I know how this looks. Here I was casually setting up a game of chess and not batting an eyelid over the topic of conversation with a spirit. And yes, I normally don’t take things as they seem.

Normally.

The difference here is the nature of the situation at hand. In the past, Jasmine would often express her feelings when something seemed not quite right. When I say not quite right, I mean not quite right for a supernatural being. Experience has taught me to pay attention to Jasmine in this.

Experience has also told me not to get excited and go off half-cocked with guns blazing, either. The results were near fatal the two times I acted without hearing Jasmine out first. So, I calmly set up the board and waited for Jasmine to give me details of what she felt was going on.

Jasmine shuddered. Then she looked around as if in fear.

“There is something... something about her that... Robert, she is totally evil. She will stop at nothing to get what she wants. I... I fear...”

Then she gave a small scream. And vanished

And someone knocked on my door.

To hear the scream of a supernatural being is definitely not one I would recommend to have on your list of things to experience. Prior to right then, I had never heard one and wish I never had. It still echoes in my mind, even now. I’d give it a description if I could find the words.

“Jasmine,” I whispered as I reached for the gun Briony had loaned me and headed for the door.

I wasn’t sure if it was coincidence or not that someone was knocking on my door just as Jasmine screamed and disappeared. I was worried about her, yes. But I also knew I couldn’t do anything if I didn’t take any precautions to ensure I was still breathing in order to be of any use to her. Therefore, once at the door I made sure I had the gun ready and looked out the peephole to see who was there.

It was dark outside. True, there were street lamps, but none nearby. I didn’t see anyone in front of the door. And whoever it was had stepped aside to avoid being seen.

Jasmine’s scream still echoed in my head as the knock came again, more urgent this time.

I did something I hadn’t done before since starting on this case, I made a phone call.

“Commander Storm,” I whispered. “Sorry to wake you. But would you do me a favor? Casually step outside and see who’s knocking on my door? Whoever it is, they are hiding themselves from the peep hole.”

He grumbled something I didn’t catch and then set the phone down.

A moment later, he came back.

“It’s Ricky.”

“Thanks, Commander,” I replied. “I owe you one.”

I hung up the phone before Storm could say anything else.

Despite what Storm had told me I still felt it prudent to keep a sidearm ready. Just in case, I switched from the Walther to my paintball gun and went to the door. If it really was Vallance, I didn’t want to do any damage. If it weren’t, then the shock value would allow me time to do whatever I might have to in order to defend myself. Ensuring the safety chain was attached to the door, I slowly opened it.

“Who is it?”

“Ricky Vallance. Damn it, Parker, let me in!”

I opened the door to admit Vallance as I hid my weapon behind my back. “Sorry, Commander. I had to make sure. What is it you need?”

Vallance walked in and looked around. He was obviously in the grip of some strong emotion. I sniffed discreetly, but he didn’t appear to have been drinking.

“Have you ever killed anyone, Parker?” he asked hoarsely.

Before I could reply, he spotted my cigarettes on the table, shook one out and awkwardly lit up.

“I have.”

He scrubbed at his face with his hand.

“I didn’t realize how many until... until your Lady Jasmine showed me. A whole parade of them. And then, when I lie down to sleep I... I kept seeing them...,” he took an inexpert drag at the cigarette.

“How... how do you stand it, Parker? What do you do to make the images go away?”

So. That’s what had Vallance so agitated at the campus. Apparently, like many people who’ve had to kill, he relegated it to the back of his mind and never thought of it again.

Problem is, the mind remembers. The subconscious part of the mind. Eventually, something will happen to bring those memories back to a conscious level and cause a near, if not actual, breakdown. Case in point, Jasmine’s revelation to Vallance triggered all those memories, and through Jasmine, he relived them all.

“Yes, I’ve killed,” I replied as I lit up a smoke of my own, and sat on the bed. “I’ve had to do it on occasion in the line of duty. And I’ve always felt the guilt each time. But I never truly get the images out of my mind. They’re always there, flashing before my eyes each time I point a gun at someone. I’ve never shot to kill unless I absolutely had to. It’s my reminder that I’m not a cold-blooded killer.”

I leaned forward.

“Ricky,” I said gently. “Did you kill for the sheer pleasure of it? Or was it in the line of duty? With each kill, did you get a hint of enjoyment or guilt?”

I waited for a response. But he just sat there.

“You see, that’s the difference between a cold-blooded killer and someone who has guilt over the death. The former gains enjoyment, or satisfaction, out of his deed and feels that it’s within their right to take a life, and doesn’t care what the consequences may be. The latter will feel the guilt of their deed, and will find some way to make amends. For me, my way of making amends is using some of my book proceeds, anonymously ensuring that the individual’s family is taken care of.”

I paused to take a drag of my cigarette.

“It would seem to me,” I continued, “you relegated all those kills to the back of your mind. You justified the deaths as being in the line of duty, but forgot your humanity along the way, somehow. This may be why you’re now going through the rehashing of seeing them all at once.”

Something dawned on me all of a sudden.

“It might also be why you are being seen as an anti-psi,” I said. “You’ve had all this pent up guilt that you haven’t released and it’s portraying you as a negative personality. This would lead to Jasmine’s difficulty being around you.”

He looked at me with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Deep down you are an inherently good person,” I continued. “Unfortunately, because of the subconscious burial of your guilt, your aura of goodness, for lack of a better term, is being blocked. Perhaps, all you need to do is begin accepting what you’ve done, find some way to make amends for those deaths, and clear your conscience. And perhaps, you coming to me was the first step.”

To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was saying would make any sense to Vallance. The theory I’d come up with was just that, a theory. I had no idea where the thought came from, only that it felt right to say it.

I waited for Vallance to say something as I lit up another cigarette and offered him one.

“It... was always necessary,” he said slowly as he waved my offer of a cigarette away. “At least, it always felt necessary at the time. Since then, I’m not so sure. What we do in the heat of the moment... and what we think we should’ve done later, when we go back and analyze our actions, are not always the same.”

He paused for a moment.

“No — I’ve never set out to kill someone, and I’ve never felt pleasure or enjoyed it. I’ve — tried to put it out of my mind afterwards, but...,” he shuddered. “Your Lady Jasmine brought it all back — and all at once. I’ve... never thought of making amends. I’ll have to think about it.”

He stood.

“I think I can sleep now. And if I can’t — I’ll use the time to figure out how to make amends, at the least by identifying the... them.”

He stood and held out his hand.

“Thank you.”

Vallance left, and I settled back to bed.

Then I suddenly remembered Jasmine, and her reaction to the knock on the door.

“Jasmine?” I called out as I sat up. “Jasmine?”

She slowly faded into view, seated in the chair on the other side of the room.

“Over here, Robert.”

“Are you all right?” I asked. “Commander Vallance was at the door. Turns out whatever you did at the campus had brought back a lot of buried guilt he had over the deaths he caused in the line of duty. He needed to let some of it loose. I’m not quite sure why he came to me about it. But I think I might’ve gotten him on the right track to find some way to make amends to assuage the guilt that’s been slowly eating away at him inside.”

I then went on to explain my theory to Jasmine about how the guilt may have been so strong in him that it might be the cause as to why she was having difficulty appearing near him. Once I was done, I waited to hear her thoughts on the matter.

“Tired. He is so difficult to be around. He drains me, Robert. He drains my energy. I have only met one other with such power, and he...” she broke off.

“I don’t know if I can continue to help you, with him around. He... he’s in serious need of cleansing, before any of us can associate with him.”

She thought for a moment.

“Yes, I think that what you did was right, and will help him eventually, but I don’t know how long it will take — or whether it will, indeed, eventually succeed.”

“You think a medium would help speed up the process?” I mused almost to myself. “And what about this other person you mentioned? Care to tell me about it?”

“I can’t tell you now, Robert. I’m too tired. I must go now. Perhaps I shall see you tomorrow.”

She slowly faded from view.

I sat on the bed for a few moments wondering if I’d ever see her again. After sitting there for a short time, I remembered the chess set and went to put it away. And I stopped in mid motion.

The white king had fallen on its side. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a sign that Jasmine was close to giving up.

I shuddered at the thought before putting the game away and settled back down into an uneasy sleep.

Morning comes entirely too early in these parts, I thought, as the phone on my nightstand rang. I rolled over, having gotten less sleep than I had expected thanks to Jasmine’s last words, and lifted the receiver.

“Parker.”

“Good morning, Mr. Parker,” Miss Mathers’ cheerful voice said. “We’re meeting for breakfast in the motel’s cafe. Would you care to join us?”

“I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes,” I replied.

Twenty minutes later, I entered the cafe and looked around. There was a large table in the back where Miss Mathers sat, her back to the wall, sipping coffee. She was dressed simply but attractively in a tweedy skirt, and a cardigan and sweater combination called a twin-set. She waved me over.

“I called the others after I called you, Robert. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I replied.

I sat down, and the server hurried over to offer me coffee.

Once she left, Miss Mathers turned to me.

“My... involvement in this is purely unofficial,” she began.

I nodded for her to go on after a couple of seconds.

“I shouldn’t be here, Mr. Parker. But I think my presence will make your job easier. As I see it, you want to persuade Sara to return with you to the school tonight, so you can confront her with her deeds. This might not be possible. When one has achieved the rank she has, well, she has probably put most of the deeds out of her mind, and may not even remember the names of the other girls. It is also possible that she’s proud of what she has done, and won’t feel any guilt or remorse. Or perhaps she’s like Ricky, and won’t be able to see anything at all.”

She paused to let that sink in.

“So, we need a second plan. Preferably one that does not involve your — special friend. Have you thought about this yet?”

As I began to formulate my answer, the other two members of our impromptu team arrived. Ricky was slightly rumpled, hair in disarray, looking as though he got very little sleep. Nevertheless, as he saw me he nodded and smiled slightly — a smile that was surprisingly serene.

Nick, of course, looked as though he’d gotten a full night’s sleep followed by a leisurely shower and shave. He was immaculate.

Seeing the two friends together, in actual daylight, I was able to see a noticeable difference between them. Ricky had always had that slightly rumpled look about him, even when it came to being in full dress. Something that a casual viewer might not even notice. Nick, on the other hand, always had that impeccably clean and polished look about him. The one exception, of course, had been my lunch with him the previous day. Scuttlebutt around the SPJ had it Nick’s nickname was “Ken Doll.”

Once they were settled, I turned my thoughts back to Jasmine’s last appearance. I told them about her comments about Sara and her fear of not being able to be of help with Ricky around. Unsurprisingly, of course, Jasmine’s words paralleled, Miss Mathers’ of a few minutes ago.

I hesitated for a brief moment as I glanced at Ricky during my narrative. I have no idea why I hesitated. I’d already decided my encounter with him was between the both of us. If he wanted to talk about it, he’d have to be the one to bring it up.

“To be honest,” I finished, “in answer to your earlier question, Miss Mathers. No. I hadn’t thought of a secondary plan. I was too focused on getting Sara to the University and gaining the confession from her that way.”

“It occurs to me,” Miss Mathers said thoughtfully, “That this might not even be in our jurisdiction.”

My facial expression must have told her to elaborate.

“Consider, Sara is alleged to have committed one or more murders. But this is the purview of the civil authorities, not SPJ. Even if further crimes were committed overseas, and we really ought to look more closely into the career of Sir Kyle, it would still be a case for Interpol, not us. You.”

“Me?” I asked confused. “How does that relate to me? As far as I recall I don’t have any contacts within Interpol.”

“Not you specifically,” Miss Mathers said. “Although you may be the best one to answer the question.”

She stopped as the server brought more coffee and then continued.

“The mandate of the United Nations Organization for Security, Peace and Justice is related to the mandate of the United Nations Organization.”

I waited for her to go on as I sipped my coffee.

“Chapter One, Article One, of the Charter of the United Nations states: ‘The Purposes of the United Nations are: To maintain international peace and security, and to that end: to take effective collective measures for the prevention and removal of threats to the peace, and for the suppression of acts of aggression or other breaches of the peace, and to bring about by peaceful means, and in conformity with the principles of justice and international law, adjustment or settlement of international disputes or situations which might lead to a breach of the peace.’”

She paused momentarily when we heard a loud crash of something breaking in the kitchen.

“‘Chapter One, Article Seven states: Nothing contained in the present Charter shall authorize the United Nations to intervene in matters which are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of any state or shall require the Members to submit such matters to settlement under the present Charter; but this principle shall not prejudice the application of enforcement measures under Chapter Seven.’”

She raised her voice slightly to drown out the colorful language coming from the kitchen.

“Chapter Seven deals with the creation and use of armed forces — the Peacekeepers.”

I nodded.

“This Organization was chartered as a part of the United Nations Organization on August 29, 1961 in an amendment that has not been made public, as the others have.”

She leaned forward.

“Do you remember what it says? You should.”

I nodded, further in awe of this woman.

“‘The Security Council shall determine the existence of any threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or act of aggression and shall make recommendations, or decide what measures shall be taken in accordance with this amendment to Articles 41 and 42, to maintain or restore international peace and security’,” she continued. “‘The mandate of the Organization for Security, Peace and Justice shall be to support the United Nations Organization with such actions, both covert and overt, as shall be deemed necessary to provide the necessary intelligence needed to fulfill the functions of the UNO Peacekeepers. The Organization shall also be empowered to act, as and when necessary, to obviate the necessity of Peacekeeper deployment’.”

She paused.

“I apologize for my long-windedness, Robert. But these are the principles I have spent most of my life living by and upholding. They are very dear to me. However, under the present circumstances, I don’t see how the actions of the former Miss Porter fall under this purview.”

She paused for a moment, allowing me to let what she said sink in.

“You’ve recently been a... a policeman, Robert,” she continued. “You’re more familiar, I believe, with statutes of limitations and the like. So. Is this within the mandate of the Organization? Or is it merely a police matter?”

“Technically it would fall within police jurisdiction,” I said slowly. “Unfortunately, there are no known provisions within any police forces that handle things that fall into the realm of the supernatural. And much of the evidence in our current situation would come via supernatural means. I don’t think exhuming the bodies would yield a decent autopsy for any kind of toxicology evidence.”

I paused for a moment.

“Though your quote of Chapter One, Article One of the UNO Charter,” I said to Miss Mathers, “and your mention of the Organization being chartered in a non-public amendment could be useful for our purposes.”

A thought came to me but I lost it as another came to mind.

“What, exactly is the full purpose of the Organization, Miss Mathers?”

As I once was a teacher to her, she became mine.

“The Organization was originally the brain-child of an eccentric English-woman who grew up on the Thrilling Wonder Stories of the Great War, and who longed to join their ranks. It’s thanks to Miss J. that we have such an egalitarian attitude towards women,” she said. “When I joined, the Organization was, essentially, a private inquiry agency. Large, complicated, worldwide, but still a Pinkerton, as they were known in those days.”

Her eyes took on a reminiscent glaze.

“When I approached the United Nations Organization, it was originally to offer our services as an investigative force. We were accepted, and ultimately funded, and drawn into the UNO as an auxiliary organization, such as the World Health Organization or,” she smiled at me, “the Peacekeepers.”

I smiled back.

“The mandate was ultimately broadened to include co-ordination of disaster relief, Investigations, our own internal security and the various field operations including information gathering and... something most people don’t know about... there are certain times when we — act — so to prevent the... well, the necessity of using the Peacekeepers.”

At this, Nick frowned, and Ricky threw up his hands.

“Might as well tell him, Briony.”

“Tell me what?” I asked looking from one person to the other.

“Assassination,” Miss Mathers said flatly.

Nick leaned back in his seat, eyes closed as if in pain.

Ricky grimaced.

“Now I’ll have to kill you...,” he mumbled sotto voce.

I quickly looked around the restaurant to see if anyone was within earshot of our table. Then I sat there for a couple of moments.

I should’ve realized there were things with my new job that wasn’t publicly known. I’ve even heard rumors of my own government applying assassination methods every so often. I really wasn’t surprised, however. Most organizations worth their salt would have certain measures in place they could fall upon without affecting their public image. Goes with the territory.

“Okay,” I said. “I can handle that. Oh, and, Commander Vallance, do I at least get a last supper later on or is this it?”

“You’ll never know,” Ricky said, but there was a smile in his voice.

“It’s breakfast,” Miss Mathers pointed out, straight-faced. “We never kill anyone after breakfast. Ruins their whole day.”

I realized Nick’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

“Okay,” I said, as I shook my head, smiling. “You guys got me.”

“We still need to decide what to do about the current situation,” Miss Mathers said. “Do we just turn the whole thing over to the civil authorities, or do we act? And if so, how?”

“Looks like we may have to go via the civil authorities,” I answered. “Only thing is, how would we be able to provide proof to them? Or do we make an anonymous call?”

“Which would be better?” Nick asked.

“Perhaps a call from an old friend...,” Miss Mathers said. “I knew someone, once. I think he’d listen to me.”

“Well,” I said, “since I’m out of ideas, I’ll go with whatever you decide on this.”

“A call from an old friend,” Miss Mathers decided. “If you will excuse me?”

“We’ll wait outside,” Nick immediately said as he stood. He motioned for Ricky and me to join him.

On his way out, he paid for our breakfast.

A short time later, Miss Mathers came out.

“Are we ready to go back to London?”

“Ready when you are,” I said.

The ride back to London was as effortless as the ride out.

As we reached the outskirts of the City, Nick said, “We’ll drop you off first, Parker, then take Briony home. Then...”

“I think I should like to go to Headquarters first,” Miss Mathers said tranquilly.

“Briony, are you sure?”

“I am.”

Nick shrugged. “All right, to Headquarters it is.”

The long car drew smoothly up beside the building that I’d been working in for the last six months. Miss Mathers looked out the window, and then nodded to Ricky, who’d taken the wheel again; with a smile towards Nick.

“Blackfriars Station, please. Park in the railway parking lot.” She turned to me. “Parker, have you ever done anything entirely on instinct?”

“Lots of times,” I said carefully. “Why do you ask?”

“I thought you had. There’s something I want to show you.”

She turned back to the car.

“Ricky, Nick, wait here. Parker, you’re with me.”

She hurried me into the station and bought two platform tickets. We went up the staircase and onto Platform A and waited. As the platform filled up with commuters, Miss Mathers drew me towards the wall. She went to a nondescript door in the wall and tried the handle.

To my surprise, the door wasn’t locked. She opened it and slipped through. As I followed, she turned a low light on.

“Drop your ticket here — we’ll need them on the way out.”

She indicated a box beside the door. I complied and then followed her across the room.

It was a small room, paneled, lined with lockers. Obviously designed for railway workers to change into and out of uniform. Miss Mathers went to the farthest locker and swung it out. Behind it was a door.

She turned and looked at me.

“I am trusting you, Parker, with — with what amounts to a State Secret where the Organization is concerned. Only two other people know about this — I didn’t tell Mr. duBois when he took over. I’m not sure why. You’ll be the fourth person to know. My... instinct tells me you’ll need this information. Use it wisely.”

She opened the door. Behind it was a short corridor. I entered, and she replaced the locker, and then closed the door. At the end of the corridor was a staircase leading down. The staircase went down for about five stories and then ended in another corridor. The corridor ran West about three hundred feet, then South another hundred to another door.

Miss Mathers opened this door, also, and looked out into a parking area.

“This is always the dangerous part.”

We were in a parking garage. In addition, I realized we were under the SPJ Headquarters building, in the lowest sub-basement. The garage was empty; it was usually used for overflow parking. I believe there were hardened, blast shelters down there also, but I wasn’t sure where. I didn’t fully recognize exactly where we were.

Miss Mathers hurried me over to the Northwest corner of the garage where another of those nondescript doors sat. This time she used a key to open it.

Inside was an elevator — with two settings. Up and down. It apparently had only two destinations, and this was one of them.

Miss Mathers urged me into the elevator. It was very small, built for only one person. She carefully closed and locked the door, then slid the elevator door shut. It was an old-fashioned, metallic grating instead of a solid door. The controls, however, had been modernized.

She pressed the “Up” button. The controls weren’t the only thing that had been modernized. The elevator rose swiftly, silently, to its destination, about ten stories above us.

When the elevator stopped, in front of us was a panel. Miss Mathers listened, carefully, before easing the elevator gate open. She motioned to me for silence, and then very slowly eased the panel open.

Jasmine was standing in the dark space beyond the panel, glowing slightly. Her eyes were alight with mischief.

“The coast is clear, Robert. No one is here.”

I relayed the information to Miss Mathers.

She relaxed, pushed the panel open, and I stepped out — into a walk-in closet. Still cautious despite Jasmine’s information, she listened again before opening the closet door.

It was a man’s bedroom, very masculine. Miss Mathers looked around, a little sadly, I thought. Then she led the way out of the bedroom...

Into the Senior Director’s office, on the top floor of the Headquarters building.

I gawked as if I were a schoolboy who had just seen his pretty teacher’s panties, when I realized where I was. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though, since Miss Mathers used to be Senior Director of the SPJ. Yet, here I was looking like a country bumpkin on his first visit to the city.

“Ma’am,” I said hesitantly. “Why are you showing me this? I mean, I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me, showing me this place. But why?”

“Instinct,” she said simply. “As I said, only three people know of this. Anton, who helped me design this building, me, and Roberts, of course. And now you. I feel you’ll have need of the information one day. And I feel you’ll use it wisely.”

She paused and took in the view. A moment of melancholy shadowed her face.

“Now, I think we should go before — someone — comes in here.”

“I’m fine with that,” I said. “Lead the way.”

We swiftly retraced our steps, picked up our tickets at the door onto the platform before we exited the locker room. Then she turned and handed me the key to the elevator.

“I want you to have this. I... won’t be needing it again.”

Head high, she led the way back to the car park where Ricky and Nick were waiting.

Just before reaching the car, I slipped the key into my pocket. I marveled at the fact that Miss Mathers trusted me enough with the secret only a few knew. I couldn’t and still haven’t gotten over the fact she gave me her full trust with this after knowing me for such a short period. I only hoped, then as now, I can live up to that trust.

March 21, 2001:

I learned “the rest of the story” today. One of my jobs is to go through the daily newspapers and clip items that might be of interest to the SPJ.

The United Kingdom isn’t much larger than my home state of Florida — but I was amazed at the sheer diversity and quality of the newspapers produced. Not only the large, national papers such as the Guardian and the Times, but also local, daily, twice-weekly and weekly papers.

Such as the Winchester Gazette.

Those of us who are tasked with checking the papers go to a central location in HQ to pick them up. So, we get to choose which papers we review each day. In fact, we’re encouraged to review different papers, to keep us from getting stale.

And, today, on the top of the pile, I found the Winchester Gazette, as if it had been deliberately left for me.

Naturally, I took it back to my desk, and looked through it carefully. And on page 17, I found a small item of interest. It announced that the Ambassador to India, Sir Kyle DuBarry, had presented his resignation to the Queen due to the ill health of his wife, the former Sara Porter.

I read it three times and then looked up to see Jasmine standing in front of me.

Jasmine rarely visits me at work since my posting to HQ. I can only recall a handful of other occasions. Yet, there she was. She nodded and indicated the clipping.

“She is very ill, Robert. A mental sickness that makes her kill to get her own way. The girls at the school were neither her first nor her last. I think you would call her a sociopath.”

“I was afraid of that,” I nodded.

“It would be too great a scandal for her to be brought to trial, but she has been taken to a quiet place where she’ll be watched and guarded for the rest of her life. Her husband has resigned, as you see, but there is no disgrace attached to him. To his credit, he loves her very much.”

She sat on the edge of my desk, one slim leg swinging.

“And your friend Nick was also able to return to the school and make his peace with Jenny. He’ll be much better for it, I think.”

“And Ricky?” I asked, forgetting where I was.

“’Ricky’s just fine,” came a new voice.

I looked up to see the man himself.

“Oops...”

He smiled.

“I came to see if you’re free for coffee.”

“Of course,” I stood up. “I’m always at your disposal.”

We walked in silence to the elevators, then down to the cafeteria in the basement. Here, Ricky gestured me into the lounge reserved for senior officers.

“We’ll be more private in here, I think.”

I sat, tentatively, on the edge of the chair.

“Relax, Parker. You’re not here for a reprimand. In fact, I deliberately did not send for you, because I didn’t want to give that impression.”

He paused as the waitress — one of the privileges of this area — brought our coffee, then took a sip before going on.

“You were talking to Jasmine, weren’t you? I — almost saw her. A haze, no more, but....”

His eyes glazed over for a moment.

“I’m fine, Parker. Thank you for caring. Briony — introduced me to her priest, and I’ve spent — some time with him, and it’s helping me come to terms with... a lot that I hadn’t come to terms with before. Forgive me for not going into detail, but — a lot of it is private — and most of it is classified!”

“I understand,” I said.

“I’m not Catholic,” he went on. “But it doesn’t seem to matter to Father Michael. He knows he won’t convert me, of course, but he’s willing to listen, and not judge. And now I see where Briony gets a lot of her serenity from.”

He smiled. A truly relaxed smile.

“Nick has made peace with Jenny, Sara is where she won’t hurt anyone anymore....”

He gave me an admiring smile.

“And Briony has taken quite a shine to you.”

“And Graeme?” I dared to ask.

“Given one more chance. His last chance, Parker — if he blows this one he’s gone — and I think he finally realizes it.”

The grim look on his face decided me to pursue that line of inquiry no further.

“Well. We both have work to do, I’m sure...”

He stood, and then froze into place, looking at something behind me.

I turned slowly.

Jasmine stood there, smiling. She held out both hands to us and then pressed them to her lips. Blew a kiss in our direction and then faded. As she did so, I heard her whisper “Tonight, Robert.”

“Phew!” Ricky’s breath left him in a long sigh. “I can’t hope to see her again, of course, but... Thank her for me, Parker, will you?”

“Of course, sir.”

“And if there is ever anything I can do to — well, you know what I’m trying to say.”

He nodded, and left.

Since I figured I had Ricky’s permission, I stayed in the cafeteria and grabbed another cup of coffee. While I drank the second cup, I replayed the events of the fifteenth and sixteenth in my mind before going back to my desk, ready for the next eventuality.

Nope.

Working for the SPJ certainly wasn’t boring!