Games of The Hangman

Games of The Hangman

Hugo Fitz Duane 01

by

V i c t o r O ' R e i l l y

"From the ancient times, most samurai have been of eccentric spirit, strong willed and courageous."

—Yukio Mishima, Hagakure

"Plumb hell or heaven, what's the difference? Plumb the unknown, to find out something new."

—Charles Baudelaire

Prologue

FITZDUANE'S ISLAND OFF THE WEST OF IRELAND — 1981

When he was told he was to hang, Rudi had turned pale and swayed on his feet.

Later he was more composed, and it was clear to the others that he had accepted the inevitability of what was to come. He was given no choice. Either he would accept the verdict and do what was necessary or he would be killed painfully — and so would Vreni and other members of his family. It was one life or several, and either way he would die. There was only one decision he could make. He was told that his hanging would be quick and painless.

He had reached a point where he couldn't take it anymore, where what they were doing and what they planned to do — however valid the reasons — were suddenly abhorrent. He could no longer continue. Physically his body rebelled, and he felt ill and nauseated. His mind was a morass of terrible images and memories, and hope and belief were dead. He had been warned when he joined that he could never leave alive.

He thought of fleeing or going to the authorities or fighting back in some way, but he knew — knew with absolute certainty — that they meant what they said and would do what they had threatened. It must be his life, or Vreni and Marta and Andreas would die.

In many ways he welcomed the prospect of death. Guilt engulfed him and he could see no way out. He knew he would not be forgiven for what he had done already; he could not forgive himself.

The arrangements were made by the others. He had been told where to go and what to do. The rope was already in place when he reached the old oak tree. It was thin and blue and of a type used daily around Draker for myriad tasks. It was hard to believe this mundane object would end his life. He had been told that precise calculations had been made to ensure that his death would be instantaneous.

Four of the others stood around the tree watching and waiting but making no motion to help. He must do this alone.

He climbed the tree with some difficulty because the bark was wet and slippery from recent rain. He stepped out onto the branch and slipped the noose around his neck. He nearly slipped and used the hanging rope to steady himself. His hands were shaking and his skin felt clammy.

He could see two of the watchers below him. A wave of despair and loneliness swept over him and he longed to see some friendly face. In seconds he would be dead. Nobody would truly care. Nobody would ever know the real reasons why. The man in Bern was hanging him as surely as if he had been physically present instead of fifteen hundred kilometers away from this miserable dripping forest.

Rudi suddenly thought of his father and the time when the family had all been happy together. Rudi could see him, and he was smiling. It was the way it used to be. He stepped off the branch toward him.

It wasn't over in seconds. The man in Bern had been explicit: it wasn't meant to be. It took Rudi some considerable time to die.

The watchers — appalled and excited and stimulated — waited until the spasming and jerking and sounds of choking had ceased, and then they left.

It was a small thing compared with what was to come.