The Devil's Handshake

Epilogue

The death of the infamous warlord in Mauritania made news across the world. Much was made off the fact that his beheaded body was found but not his head. Speculation was rife amongst the bloggers of the world. Quickly followed up by several media sources that he had been taken out by Russian Special Forces in retaliation to the events that took place in Adwalland.

The media tried in vain through a full frontal assault of James Weston to get a comment from the famous Oligarch on the death before disappointingly giving up when told by the PR Man that he would not be making any comment.

Standing over the grave of her lost love in the small village crying, was Rebecca, for earlier in the morning a special delivery had arrived at her parents’ house in St. John’s Wood.

“Rebecca I have a delivery for you that came by courier,” her Mother had informed her down the phone.

Immediately the alert intelligence officer had told her not to open it.

“Does it have a sender, Mummy?” Rebecca had asked quickly before she got ready to make a call to the Service to advise a suspect package had just been delivered to her parents’ home.

“It says it’s from Sir Thomas Litchfield, darling,” her mother had answered slightly confused. “I didn’t know you knew him,” she had then said in reference to the fact the man had been all over the news.

A now much relieved Rebecca told her not to worry, and said she would be around to collect it later after making up a story that it was related a trade delegation trip she was setting up.

“Oh I see!” her mother had said. “Why did he send it here?”

“His assistant must have got the wrong address,” Rebecca had said guiltily because she was lying to her mother. Maybe it was time to tell them the truth.

She sat in her car emotionally drained after having finally told her parents the truth as to what job she did, yet feeling much better because her parents had told her how proud they were of her and had forgiven her for lying to them all these years. She had opened the package to find a dark polished walnut box, very similar to a cigar box.

As she opened it, her hand had went to her mouth in shock, for sitting on the crushed green velvet was a black human ear with a watermarked business card bearing the Litchfield Crest. A phrase was written in black ink

“Got shtroft, der mentsh iz zikh noikem,” followed by the letters TL after it.

“Thank you Thomas,” she had said out loud.

The wind blowing across the graveyard brought her back to the present.

She took the smooth grey round pebble in her hand and placed it on top of his grave. She kissed her finger once then touched his name and said the prayer of the dead silently to herself.

As she began to walk away she spotted a fox watching her by the Garden of Remembrance and on seeing the creature she knew instantly what do with the ear.

Reaching the edge of the garden, although the fox was no longer in sight, but knowing the creature would be watching, she threw the ear into the garden.

Rebecca turned, wiped a tear from her eye, and walked away from the graveyard.