Fear of the Fathers (55 page)

Annie got in the car but paused before starting the engine.

“What's the matter?” asked Kamal.

“He's going to get away with it,” said Annie, banging the steering wheel. “He's going to bloody well get away with it.”

“You do not know that for sure,” said Kamal. “There are many forms of justice, and not all of them obvious. He will pay for his sins eventually, but it is not up to you to deliver his punishment. Today is not a day for vengeance, it is a day for strength. The chain of violence has to stop.”

“But you don't understand,” said Annie. “I can't forget. I can't forgive.”

“Then his evil will inhabit the world forever, as will your father's.”

A shot rang out from behind, prompting them both to turn their heads. “Drive!” shouted Kamal.

Annie put her foot to the floor and the car screeched away in a cloud of noxious, rubbery smoke, leaving Davis and his team frustrated. They continued to shoot until the car turned out of range. Annie drove like the demons that possessed her, oblivious to cars and pedestrians alike, venting her rage on the unwilling tarmac.

It was not until they were at a safe distance that she slowed down and spoke again. “Will you help me Kamal?” she said. “Will you stay with me? Will you help me forget?”

Kamal placed his hand softly over her own. “Fate has decreed it,” he said.

Night was falling in the Keralan jungle. Birds and insects twittered and clicked as monkeys chattered in the distance, their sounds becoming more pronounced as the light diminished. The air too appeared to grow closer with every darkening shade, heightening the already unbearable claustrophobia. The forest floor was alive with wildlife, the hunters and the hunted darting this way and that in search of sustenance for themselves and their young.

In amongst this flurry of nocturnal activity Stratton lay motionless, his breath shallow and his body suffused with fever. Next to him Titan continued to stand guard, growling at any inquisitive beasts that happened upon his friend's prostrate body, and batting them away if they came too close.

Stratton reached feebly for his canteen of water, managing to raise his head just long enough to imbibe a small mouthful before gravity dragged him back down. He had rationed it as best he could, but he knew it would soon be gone, and with it his chances of survival.

Before long the darkness had enveloped him completely, until there was no difference between his eyes being open or shut. The nightly noises accelerated in his mind, but none were so loud as the nerve-shattering, blood-chilling screams he had heard earlier in the afternoon. These had stayed fresh in his mind, perhaps clearer and more sustained now than they had been at the time, echoing round and round his skull like exploding pinballs.

As soon as he heard the first excruciating cry he knew who it was emanating from. He had no idea who the other unfortunate was, but without doubt the initial wail had come from Jennings. Stratton had felt it in his soul, the pain piercing his ears like blistering needles of guilt. No guns – that's what he had told him; no guns. And Jennings having made the promise had stuck to it, just like Stratton knew he would. But the consequences were something that Stratton hadn't foreseen, and the chain of events he'd instigated had culminated in he dare-not-imagine what.

As he lay there writhing in his friend's pain he began to remember the caveat of his resurrection, and the cause of his illness suddenly became clear. His instructions to Jennings had been correct. It was time for the people of the world to lay down their arms. It was time to break the cycle of revenge and retribution. It was time for good men to do nothing.

His thoughts went out to Jennings and Stella, beseeching the powers to protect them from further harm. He thought of Oggi and his parents, and he thought of the life he'd left behind. He whispered Titan's name, and as he drifted away the panther licked his forehead and lay a paw on his chest. The jungle closed around them, laughing without mercy…