One of Us Is Dead

90 Tuesday 18 October 2022

Taylor decided the noise he had heard behind him, somewhere in the back of the aircraft, must have been a crate of drinks or snacks that had not been properly stowed. He put it out of his mind and concentrated on flying the aircraft and the Air Traffic Control instructions. They were climbing steadily, approaching the first ceiling he had been given.

He clicked the mic button. ‘London Control, good morning,’ he said and gave the full call sign. ‘Golf Alpha Victor Uniform Zulu passing three thousand five hundred feet climbing four thousand feet to remain clear of controlled airspace on track Goodwood.’

Then, as he released the push-to-talk mic button, he heard a voice right behind him, muted slightly by the headset clamped over his ears.

He froze.

A voice he had not heard for many years. That same, confident, disdainful I’m the BIG I AM and you are nobody.

‘Nice eulogy you gave me, Taylor. You hit all the right notes. I was impressed. Too bad I never got the chance to thank you before now.’

He turned his head, as much as he could, to see Rufus Rorke, standing right behind him, holding a small, black cloth bag in his right hand, and with a smile on his face that was pure, utter venom.