Burning Angels

20

Behind the glass partition, Narov shuddered. She watched in horrified fascination as Jaeger’s hooded form was dragged from the room. The two-way mirror offered her a perfect view of proceedings.

‘You are not enjoying this, I think?’ a voice ventured.

It was Peter Miles, the elderly man whom Jaeger had presumed had been shot dead in the woods.

‘I am not,’ Narov muttered. ‘I thought it was necessary, but… Does it have to go on? To the bitter end?’

The old man spread his hands. ‘You are the one who told us he needed to be tested. This blockage he has over his wife and child… this utter desperation; this guilt. It can drive a man to contemplate what he would never normally do. Love is a powerful emotion; love of a child perhaps the most powerful of all.’

Narov slumped lower in her seat.

‘It is not for too much longer,’ Peter Miles offered. ‘The biggest test – he is surely through it. If he had failed that, he would not be joining us.’

Narov nodded morosely, her mind lost in a swirl of dark thoughts.

There was a knock at the door. A much older, wizened figure entered. He planted his walking stick firmly inside the doorway, concern etched in his gaze. He looked to be in his nineties, but under his thick, bushy brows his eyes remained beady and alert.

‘You are done here, I think?’

Peter Miles massaged his forehead exhaustedly. ‘Almost. Thank God. Just a short while and we will know for certain.’

‘But was this all really necessary?’ the old man queried. ‘I mean, remember who his grandfather was.’

Miles glanced at Narov. ‘Irina seemed to believe it was. Remember, she has served with him in high-stress situations – in the heat of combat – and has witnessed how his nerve can sometimes appear to falter.’

A flash of anger blazed through the old man’s eyes. ‘He has been through so much! He may falter, but he’ll never break. Never! He is my nephew, and a Jaeger.’

‘I know,’ Miles conceded. ‘But I think you understand my meaning.’

The old man shook his head. ‘No man should have to suffer what he has been put through these past few years.’

‘And we’re unsure what effect that has had upon him long-term. Hence Narov’s concerns. Hence the present… procedures.’

The old man glanced at Narov. Surprisingly, there was a kindly look in his eyes. ‘My dear – cheer yourself. What will be will be.’

‘I’m sorry, Uncle Joe,’ she murmured. ‘Perhaps my fears are misplaced. Unfounded.’

The old man’s face softened. ‘He comes from good stock, my dear.’

Narov glanced at the silvery-haired man. ‘He has not placed a foot wrong, Uncle. He has not let anyone down, all through the testing. I fear I was mistaken.’

‘What will be will be,’ the old man echoed. ‘And perhaps Peter is right. It is perhaps best we are absolutely certain.’

He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. ‘But if he does fall at the final hurdle, promise me one thing. Do not tell him. Let him leave this place without ever knowing that it was we who tested him, and that he… failed us.’

The old man stepped out of the observation room, leaving a final comment hanging in the air.

‘After all he has been through, that knowledge – it would break him.’