Ducie by Chris Freeman

  Chapter 62. Do not tell all you know

  Rain was falling hard as Daniella arrived at the Estate, clutching the box tight like it contained the hopes of all humanity inside. She wanted to carry out Lucas’s instructions, but she couldn’t bring herself to delegate the task to anyone else any more than she backed her own chances of successfully pulling off a filing cabinet smash-and-grab herself. Lucas would have hated to see her in such a dilemma, but a dilemma is what it was. She knocked the door and waited for Ducie’s new leader to answer. The rain continued to fall, occasionally increasing in intensity briefly, before quickly returning to a steady shower. Weather was seasonal in Ducie and the glorious cycle of the rain’s ebbs and flows brought a sense of renewal to the island. Daniella felt this; whether because of the rain or because of what she was about to do, she sensed the cusp of a new era. When the door finally opened, Ducie’s new leader looked as surprised as he did welcoming to see Daniella.

  - Daniella gal! Whatcha be frolickin round in dis mad-ness for?

  Harrison signalled to the sky and the chaos ejecting from it.

  - Come gal, come!

  He opened the door wider and waved her in.

  Inside, Harrison handed Daniella a towel, which she idly dabbed her face with. Being wet wasn’t what she was concerned with right now. She shifted nervously in her chair, her hands intertwined with each other repeatedly as she fidgeted with them, watching the room, corner to corner, as if she were waiting for something to happen.

  - Norw I-man know, ya not be traipsing round inna di downpour just a come say hi t’me.

  Harrison nodded down towards the wooden box resting in Daniella’s lap. She held it, shaped to offer it across the desk to Harrison, but appeared to think better of it.

  - I am….I mean…..I want….. I…..

  - Ya comin widda lickle pres-ant for uncle ‘Arrison, yeah?

  Harrison smirked. His relaxed and jovial manner was taking the edge off the nerves that were still making a good job of eating Daniella from the inside out.

  - It’s not a present. It’s….It’s….

  - Daniella….

  Harrison’s eyes were sharper, more intent now. Daniella tried to read them. Not urgency. Impatience perhaps.

  - ….Give me the box Daniella.

  - It’s nothing. I’m just…. It’s just….

  Each word that left her mouth quickly ran itself into a lonely cul-de-sac, failing to connect to anything else of meaning.

  - I’ll be going now.

  Daniella stood up to leave, fumbling the box as she did. She watched it clatter to the floor in slow motion. The lid didn’t fall open, but the sickly pain shot through her hand like an acute torpedo, as Harrison’s huge boot pinned her dainty fingers to the floor, as he reached over and took the box away, calmly retaking his seat and examining each face of the box like he were an antiques expert trying to put a price on it. Daniella considered running, but quickly thought better of it. Why had she thought this was a good idea? Honesty was the best policy, she’d thought. Be straight, come clean. She had nothing to hide. Harrison was cool. He’d take it in his stride. Ducie’s new leader unfastened the makeshift latch on the box and looked inside, as Daniella prayed that somehow the note inside might have vanished; it hadn’t.

  The silence as he read felt like the empty void of death. A formless mass of nothingness that seemed to have no sign of an end. She studied Harrison’s face, as his expression went from deep concentration, to a slight frown, before a lone tear escaped from his eye and he put his head in his hands. Daniella was numb and confused, as she watched his body vibrate subtly in a way that could have been mistaken for laughter, if not for the occasional sniffle that punctuated it.

  - Sir….

  Harrison put his hand up, signalling her to go no further, his head still bowed, as if he were too ashamed to look at her.

  - Sir what does this mean? What does Lucas….

  - I sorry Daniella.

  He finally lifted his head to look her in the eye; his face contorted into an ugly, strained expression, as if somehow looking at her was causing him physical pain. He looked away again.

  - Sorry for what? What is all this about?

  There was a slight sob laced into Daniella’s voice now too, as she got swept away with the emotion of seeing a grown man, a big man like Harrison cry. Harrison reached into a drawer underneath the desk and removed something, which he held in his lap. What on earth could fit inside a single drawer that would hold all the answers to this? Daniella waited.

  - God Selassie , Jehovah God Rastafari, Almighty God, Rastafari great and terrible God Rastafari. Forgive I. Forgive I God.

  Harrison moved quickly. Much too quick for Daniella to react, as he revealed the brand new semi-automatic handgun from his lap and shot Daniella just off-centre of her moist, olive forehead.

  She knew little about it. She was gone.