Chapter 5

“Don’t make any sudden moves George; I have a knife aimed at your skull.”

Shit. I forgot he was behind me. Spreading his hands wide to show he was unarmed, Jim’s partner slowly straightened and turned around to face him.

“Jim, how could you?” He asked softly. “What did that man ever do to you?”

“He starved and killed my family. I swore an oath to kill him and now, I’ve had my revenge.”

George’s eyes widened when he understood. “You...are Tören.” He said quietly. “But how did you manage to pass both tests when you did actually murder those three men?”

Jim began speaking. “I escaped from Derek Johnson and woke up in an orphanage. I didn’t remember how. I had lost all memories of my childhood. About ten years after I joined Scotland Yard, I saw a photograph of Derek Johnson and was assaulted by visions. I consulted a doctor and he informed me that what had happened to me was known as Primary Thought Suppression. My mind had purposely forgotten memories to spare me pain. I could remember them now because my brain had subconsciously recorded aspects of my life under images and names, one of which was Johnson.”

Jim took a deep breath.

“I learned that if I consciously suppressed memories and related them with images; it would be called Auxiliary Thought Suppression. Then if I forgot those images by losing myself in some kind of activity, I would remember nothing unless I saw that image again. It took me five years me to make it a reliable technique while gathering intel on Johnson.”

“So, I provided you with a great opportunity when I asked to relax in the quiet countryside during our leave,” George said sadly.

“Yeah. Two weeks before coming here, I threatened Johnson with all means at my disposal. That made entry into his house simple. I told you I wanted to meet him because he was a weapons collector and I was interested in antiques. In reality, I sent up a sealed envelope that mentioned about the threats and that we, the police might have identified the person responsible for it.”

“How did you kill him?” George asked revolted...yet curious.

Smiling grimly, Jim continued “We talked awhile and while he least expected it, I KO’d him. After tying and gagging him, it was a few minutes work to set up the motion detector and gas dispensers from my suitcase. I wasn’t disarmed since I was a policeman and I had said that the suitcase contained evidence only for Johnson’s eyes.”

“You lied to me that the suitcase contained some old pistols for Johnson,” George stated flatly.

Jim continued emotionlessly, “When he came to, I told him my true name was Tören and surgically cur his organs and left him to bleed out. Then, switching off the lights I opened the door. From the shadows, I told the guards that Mr. Johnson wanted to meet them. After that, I stabbed the one on my left with my throwing knife straight into his heart. You saw me raising my left hand...the stabbing was obscured by his body. I just made sure he couldn’t step on the mat while stabbing him. That’d have wasted the anaesthetic gas. I wanted the murder to be discovered long after and even an autopsy wouldn’t be able to clear up the exact time...at least in this rural village.”

He shrugged, “And as for the guy on the right...I just pushed him and as he almost fell, I turned around and...” he mimed throwing a knife action from the CCTV footage.

“But the knife should have been in his body-”

“Remember my trusty stringed-knife? I just pulled the string and it flew back to me. It’s a lightweight blade as you know. It’s not actually a true knife. The string can easily handle the weight and won’t break. Sadly, the knife can’t pierce bone and thus can only hit the weak unprotected vital parts. Lucky, the guards don’t wear body-armour.”

George narrowed his eyes, “How did you suppress your memories?”

Jim gestured at the press photograph. “When I returned, I wove all my childhood and murder memories together like threads with this image at its centre. After that, when the two us went for the harvest festival last night, we saw so many things that I obviously forgot about the press photograph.”

“Why did you want to forget the images? Did you know they would interrogate you?” George questioned.

“No. I wanted to erase this part of my life forever. But I couldn’t let my family lie unavenged. Even if I chose to forget the events...it would not be the right thing to do. Nobody in this village would be courageous enough to stand and testify against Johnson! So, the law couldn’t punish him. I had to punish him. So, I killed him with my own hands and then forgot my memories. I was gonna throw away the photograph but you came and dragged me to the harvest festival. I kinda forgot to throw it. I just managed to place it face down on the table so that I did not look at it when I came back at night.”

Smiling softly, Jim continued, “I was tired and didn’t notice it lying face down last night and we were in a hurry to leave in the morning. I just absent-mindedly flipped it up just now and remembered everything.”

He cast a quick, bitter glance at the picture.

In the split-second Jim’s eyes darted from the George to the photograph, the spiky-haired detective moved. Jim’s knife missed him by a hair’s breadth. Both drew their firearms simultaneously but Jim fired faster.

The spiky-haired detective fell, gun loosening from his hand and blood oozing out of his wound.

“Do you think you can live with my death on your conscience, Jim? After all, we have worked together for quite a long time.” George asked bleeding from the wound just beneath his heart.

“Don’t you remember? I can suppress my thoughts!” Jim smiled bitterly.

“But a permanent wound should be enough to remind you of such a death. Your mind will connect this wound to me!” With all the force left in his body, the dying detective blindly grabbed for his firearm and shot Jim through his thigh.

Even as Jim’s face contorted in pain, his partner and long-time friend heaved a sigh and passed away.

Painfully forcing himself to kneel, Jim closed his late partner’s eyelids whispering, “Well played.”