Mr & Mister Danvers: Initiation - 18. EPISODE 17: THE CHOICE

EPISODE 17: THE CHOICE

My sudden descent back into the abyss into which I had fallen before had resurfaced.

As the warm, ice-cold incisions in my chest and head had thawed, the rushing warmth, as I felt it crashing over my shoulder, my back, and my mind, flared up as it slowly ate my consciousness.

In my chest—agony filled my chest!

The impact was swift and terrible; the punch was crushing.

Recurring occurrences, nightmares, fears, and isolation...

Please leave me alone.

Make me at ease once again.

I begged myself.

I begged my mind; it was clawing and kicking inside me.

Till I felt its tips, and it was heavy.

A bloodthirsty hunger for the guilty.

It was there, and I could feel it and grasp it.

I looked at her, and she said the things that would embolden the monster in me…

...to free itself.

"You single-handedly advocated for yourself the justice needed to punish those who had raped you."

I froze.

No one knew of that.

Ally and I promised never to talk about it again.

Did my partner tell anyone?

"We know you and your partner hunted down the four criminals. She was helping you on the sidelines while you played the judge, the juror, and the executor of your own revenge without the authorities ever finding out. No traces of your brand of justice. No evidence that could be pointed back to you. No witnesses that could attest that you’d shot Jeremiah Sparks cleanly between the eyes, that you had pushed Mark Kramer off a vat of acid, that you bled Thomas Mackimer...dry at a slaughterhouse up in Leeds, then chopped him up and left his body in cow manure. Even your aunt, who we’re sure had known what was going on in her farm, never lipped a word. And most amazing of all, no one found out about the gruesome murder of Arnold Nealy, where you took out his balls, fed him his own penis, and eventually killed him off by drilling several times on his arsehole while hanging upside down." She looked at me; skittish and jumpy she was. "Arnold Nealy was the leader of the group, the one who shoved the bottle up your arse and stabbed you in the back, isn’t he?"

With a flick of my wrist, I grabbed the house key on the table, and jumped on top of the couch as I was behind her, grazing the pointed object right through her jugular.

In my twisted head, I counted the ways to dispose of her body.

I could slit her throat with the house keys, slam her head on this marble table, drag a fork down her chest, then chop her up and drain her blood, wrap the house with foil and industry-grade saran wrap, and soak her body in a tub of oxy cleaners—the liquid kind, a brand called OxiDust.

Jeremiah Sparks and Matt Kramer were accidents.

They were never meant to die like that.

They were supposed to suffer—glad I was able to do far better on their remaining friends.

The one who taught me how to kill them off properly through years of his experience working with the force was my paraplegic father.

Without him, those bastards would still be walking on this earth.

"I could kill you right now and no one would know," I said.

The deep cold in my voice was chilling, even as I heard myself. It was a different person, an unremorseful killer who had sprouted if the need to ever summon him came.

I knew I had this side of me that had awakened after the night I had been assaulted.

I allowed the side to flourish because he had to.

He just had to.

"Who else knows?"

"You think I’d be stupid enough to sit here with you, a serial killer? There are several agents surrounding this house. You’ll never come out alive." There was nothing to say after hearing that except listen to the truth. "You brutalised four people and murdered them in cold blood, yet you’re here walking free. Doesn’t that surprise you?"

"If you people knew about it, why don’t you just hand me over to the police?"

She wagged her finger.

"No-no-no-no-no Greg. No matter what happens, never admit to the crime. However, what you did say was just a hypothesis, right Greg?"

I clenched my fist while I sliced a skin from her neck with the pointed house key to shut her up.

She winced at the pain; the key was dull as blood trickled down her décolletage.

"Don’t be hasty Greg, if let’s say, we are to tell the authorities of your crimes, you’d be out on bail in a month or two. Hearings will proceed. The media will talk. Your life would be uprooted by the tattling and the people talking whether you did it or not, and still, it would have amounted to nothing. Because the most impressive thing Greg was that everything you’ve done in order to exact your revenge was the mark of a master spy. You were motivated to stop them—as they themselves have tortured several men and women in the wake of their crimes. If you work with us, you’ll get to do the exact same thing but better. You’re not a trained MI6 agent doing undercover work in Bosnia trying to overthrow a dictatorship. You’ll be discovering the plot to uncover the truth which we could use to oust the dictator. You’ll be the eyes, walls, and ears with the experience of a trained combat agent."

"Tell me why you want me, or I swear to god; no more lies."

Her eyes peered up, and they too had changed.

She knows I wasn’t kidding and that killing her would be too easy.

"Very well then," she said, flattening the creases of her dress. She held my hand and dragged away the key, eyes staring gently at me, and said, "Sit." I returned to the couch, still cautious of her. "We need you Greg. Two and a half years from now, there will be an ASEAN conference held in Korea. Several world leaders will be there. The French envoy is André Gauthier. We need the files that would disclose North Korea’s plans to sell off-market nukes to Russia and propagate its war against Ukraine. This would be the onset catalyst for the third world war. You’ll start to attract André’s attention, set up a relationship, live with him for a time, and once you have the info, SIS and its global partners will come in and finish the rest."

"You’re asking me to assimilate into a life I don’t even own? And why does this André have access to files that are that confidential?"

"He’s the secretary to the French diplomat, Zhao Wei-Ying, who we are sure had been a part of a backstairs meeting in Zurich with China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs regarding China’s stance after North Korea’s sale of the nukes. We suspect Zhao to be a double agent for China. Based on the intel, China plans on siding with Russia...and you can expect what the rest of the world will do after that declaration. It’ll be a full-on nuclear world war."

"But why me?" I planted my hands on my face; this would be another set of lies I would have to endure. "Why me?"

"Greg, you’re a good man. We know that everything you did was for you and your family. When you found out that your partner had her home invaded by the same men and had raped her, you knew they had crossed a much deeper line. And it was only time before they come finding you, again, to finish what they’ve started."

I held my face.

"They gave me no choice," I said, breathing hard and cupping my mouth so that finally, I could say the things that had haunted me for several years. "They were coming after my father next, then my son. I—I can’t imagine...Brady...I can’t..."

She wiped her neck with a handkerchief, and the blood dried quickly.

I made sure to slice the top of the skin so it wouldn’t scar.

She sat beside me and held my shoulders.

"You infiltrated the lives of four people without them ever knowing that they were about to die in the hands of someone they’ve clearly pissed off. You see now why we’re interested in you? We need you Greg. You’re the only one who can pull this off."

"So what happens after? What happens to me—to us?"

"You’re free to go and live a life as a nobody. An invisible dent in the lives of the people around you. You can go back to being normal, if normal could ever describe someone like you."

"If I stay as one of your spies?"

"You get to keep this house." I was more than shocked that I was getting this property, and she saw it. "The house is tied to your spy work with the Agency. As long as you’re working for us, you’ll have this for yourself."

"And what if I refuse to join you?"

"You see, we have our way to convince your Aunt to commit an indictment of your crimes. Honestly, she’s the only link that we have on you. Unless you kill her yourself, we’ll have nothing against you. But we don’t want to waste a very important talent. Jean sees you as an agent with a lot of potential."

I can’t believe she’d suggest that I murder my aunt to close off all ties.

She’s the kindest person I know.

And when my father and I told her of my plans, that kindness turned into something sinister.

"You don’t mess with our family. We may be simple, but you’ll rue the day you ever touched a Danver. Kill that bastard. It’s what’s deserving of that scum," she said.

I guess this hint of evil runs in the family. Or any family who’s had their backs thrown against a wall.

"How about you? What do you think of me?"

"I see a father who was left with no choice but to protect his family."

She quickly pulled up her dress to show her torso, several stab marks that had hardened, and a huge embossed scar that looked like a stab wound; it seemed painful.

"What happened?"

"I was about eight when a group of renegade militants turned me into their common whore." She pulled out another cigarette and grabbed the ashtray near her. Puffing smoke, she stared coolly at the patio. "Kidnapped from my village in Kenya, they took in my mother until she died of sepsis from getting some form of STD with all the men that abused her. One day, a British GI handed me a gun and said, ‘If you’re not willing to fight for anything, why not kill yourself?' I killed all 12 of them. It was for me and my mother. The British infantry that was stationed in Kenya took me back to the UK. With a new name and a new life, this had become my home ever since."

I stood up, leaned on the wall behind the folding doors, and gazed up at the stars.

A view like this was hard to pass up.

"And if I take this job, what exactly am I required to do before meeting this André?

"You won’t be thrust upon the heat of the smoke. You’ll be working behind it. Here at the Agency, we train our agents in the art of seduction and manipulation. To seduce someone is the most powerful thing in the world. And to be an expert and a master wielding that power, you can have the world at your fingertips. You’ve already done it without even realising it."

I turned my head to see her sitting on the couch.

"What do you mean?"

"Someone has already fallen head over heels for you. And you don’t even know how you did it. Try it as you like, but I know a schemer when I see one."

She simpered a smile, and I returned my eyes to the stars.

It's strange.

I don’t remember anyone falling madly in love with me.

Was it Baron Hensley?

I was certain he was in love with Kendrick, the escort.

"So what happens next if I take on the role of an escort?"

"You’ll have everything in this house to your name with a fixed salary of £10,000 every month for the first year. The reason is, you’ll be paying back all of the investment the agency had given, so whatever amount is paid by the clients gets back to us for that duration. After that, if you still wish to continue being an escort, you may do so at your prerogative and get 70% for every service done in your name. The agency gets thirty."

That’s a bit steep for a starting salary.

Although, what am I complaining about?

I was earning eighteen hundred a month for my part-time waitering and this ten thousand would be more than a huge boost that’s comparable to the salary of a tax manager or a data scientist—which are boring jobs at most.

"I have a question, but what has the agency invested in me?"

"Your clothes, and all the appliances and furniture in this house."

"Oh yeah," I muttered. "This house did come fully furnished."

"You’ll also get two cars of your own choosing."

"I’ll have a car?"

"Not yet," she smiled as I turned to her and leaned my back on the folding doors.

"What do you mean not yet?"

"It’s Brady’s first day of school tomorrow, so it’ll depend on you when you want it done."

"Which school?"

"Southwest International School."

I rallied against my instinct to raise my kid as a wanker.

"But that’s for posh kids. What if they find out I’m not rich?"

"The school knows your uncle, your wealthy sponsor, had already donated a considerable amount to their institution. Consider Brady’s tuition paid until he’s finished high school altogether. Even if you decide to leave the agency, he’ll still be enrolled there."

This was starting to sound like I had a real benefactor.

"What else did the agency give me?"

"The domestic staff, the gardener, the butler, the nanny, and the chef. All of them are employed and trained to adjust to any situation possible. They’re not your usual house staff. You’ll soon learn enough."

"But I don’t need the help."

"You’re going to need all the help you can, especially since you’ll have three jobs. A day job gives the illusion that you’re working full-time. Your job as an escort will help you practice together with your primary job as a spy."

"And the day job is?"

"You’ll work as a waiter at an events company owned by the agency."

"You guys can’t even find me a good job in the morning?"

"Low-profile jobs are best suited to your line of work if you haven’t noticed. It’s not everyday that there are events, and job stations are on rotation. There will be some days you’re working, and some days you’re training. Either way, your three jobs have already been tailor-fit to suit the persona we’ve built for you."

"And that is?"

"You’re a waiter earning experience of what it is like to work in this business. Eventually, your uncle will hand over the business to you as his successor. If ever your colleagues discover that you’re living a life of luxury, we have someone ready to pose as your wealthy uncle who owns the events company to answer all questions and allay their doubts."

Everything she had said so far made sense.

But I’m still uncomfortable with everything the agency is giving me.

There had to be a catch.

"They’ve given me so much," I said, wondering if the benefits seemed to outweigh my job as a new recruit.

I don’t suppose everyone gets mansions, butlers, chefs, and nannies as new-hire perks.

This seems way extra for a signing contract.

"Why am I getting this much?" She glanced at me. Inspecting her eyes, something doesn’t add up. "Tell me, please. Is this a suicide mission?"

"There’s a high likelihood you won’t be returning after this."

I moved in front of the coffee table, hands on my hips, and demanded an answer. "What do you mean?"

"You’ll get no help after you’ve accomplished your task. Once this operation starts, you’ll be on your own. We foresee the French embassy will hand you over to China once Zhao realises you’re a spy for British Intelligence. If Britain intervenes for an extradition, it’ll be an international dispute regarding covert agents. They’ll have a manhunt and purge all of our agents undercover in China, and we can’t lose that many operatives. You’ll be at the hands of the State Police. The truth is, you’ll be signing your life away once you sign this contract."

I sat on the couch, facing the wall mirror, and looked at myself.

I looked tired, haggard, and most of all, convinced that everything I had done had led to this moment.

My crimes have rebounded, and my good karma has run out.

"So why tell me that I’ll have a normal life after this?

"If you manage to get away safely, you will. That’s also why we’ll be training you so you can survive. And I’m hoping that you'll have learned sufficiently to come back to Britain in one piece. Everything depends on you. Everything."

Even if I run away, they’ll have me convicted.

Even if I choose to join their cause and rid this world of a possible war, I’ll die with no way to come back.

So I asked, "How about my family?"

She was keeping her cool, but I know she was not a cold-hearted spy.

Knowing my history, she must have thought that life bit me in the back when I least expected it.

And the slight gloss in her eyes—a sheen of tears—was more than enough to thank her for her compassion.

At least someone in this world has shown kindness amidst the things I’ve done.

"They’ll be very well taken care of, I promise," she said, quickly standing up as she turned around, guessing she had wiped her eyes from the moisture.

She shifted into a smile.

"We’ll make sure Brady has a bright future, and as for your father, he’ll have a comfortable life for as long as he lives."

Maybe someday someone can tell my son what I’ll be doing to keep him safe.

I’m sure he’ll never know.

In exchange for the things I’ll do for my country, my family will have a good life.

And that is all I ask in the wake of my impending death.

I took the contract and signed it.

Then and there, my life was mine no more.

I was a mere property of Britain to be used as a loaded gun to combat another evil in the world.

Evil versus evil, as I’d like to think.

And there will be no winners against that.