Unfinished Business...
I WAS no sooner through the door than the old-timer was on his feet and giving me the lie of the land.
“The time has come,” he thundered, “for judgement to begin.”
As he waited for the reverberations of his pronouncement to die away, he recognised me.
“Oh! Hello, Mark. Sorry. Wasn’t concentrating.” A grin took over. “What are you frowning at?”
I was not where I expected to be. My deal with Satan had been explicit, I thought. My soul, for what it was worth, belonged to him. What was I doing back here?
“Good question,” Pete said, “but as with all things under Heaven – and here, too – there is a reason.” His grin broadened. “My old mate Satan decided not to enforce the deal you made with him. You are off the hook, as they say.”
I was totally confused. “But...why?”
Peter moved to his window. “He can be a decent chap at times. And he certainly knows a bargain when he sees one. Have a look.”
Down at the dock, Satan himself was supervising the loading of yet another cargo. Among his passengers were Smith and Evans.
“Three souls for the price of one,” Peter said. “A very acceptable transaction.”
I was still confused. “Three?”
“Three. The Right Honourable Walter Onslow will be along soon. I believe he is shortly to meet with an ah...accident.”
As Peter spoke, Satan looked up and saw me. He grinned and gave me a thumbs-up before returning to his stevedoring. Then the significance of the arithmetic struck me and my heart sank.
“You let Sandra off, too, didn’t you? Completely.”
Peter’s smile was kindly. “You’d already guessed that, hadn’t you? Yes, Mark, she won’t be along for years. Many years, if I’m any judge. Given her devotion to the child, the sacrifice she was willing to make, the courage she showed...well, I can be generous, too.” He moved to his computer.
I followed, more out of obedience that willingness. I felt crushed. It was if Sandra had died. For the first time, I knew the leaden weight of grief.
Peter already had my ledger on screen. He was perusing the last few entries. “You did well when you went back. “Very well.” He gave me a steady gaze. “And, if I may say so, you showed a certain devotion, too. And unselfishness. Commendable.”
He was giving me a second reckoning, and it looked like I might come out in the black. I didn’t care. Without Sandra, anywhere he sent me would still be purgatory.
“If you say so,” I returned. “But I didn’t do it to earn salvation or absolution or whatever it’s called.”
“I know. That’s what makes it commendable.” He stood. “You’ve earned your place in the Firsts, Mark.”
He gestured and in the rear wall a sliding door opened. It was a door I’d never noticed before. Had it been there before? Anyway, there was nothing beyond it but mist. Obviously I was expected to use it, so I moseyed over. Which was when the thought occurred. I gave Peter the accusing eye.
“You really are a bloody awful liar, you know.”
He blinked. “How so?”
“The first time I was here. We were talking about the Perugino painting in my headmaster’s office? ‘A little divine inspiration there’ you said. Then, not half an hour later, you were telling Sandra you had no control over earthly lives. Doesn’t jell.”
He grinned. “Who said I provided the divine inspiration?”
It was the non-answer I expected, so I gave him the second barrel. “You also said there was no going back. But yet...”
His grin remained. “Very good. You didn’t spend two years in the Prosecutions Branch without learning how to pick up the occasional inconsistency. Yes, I did say that. Had to. I had to know how much the two of you would sacrifice for the little girl.”
“Meaning that Satan was part of your little test?”
“We team quite well, don’t you think?”
I did. In fact...
“I’ve got a rough idea that you two are one and the same. Am I right?”
Peter threw back his head and laughed, long and loud. Tears ran down his brown cheeks.
“Oh, Mark. Thank you. In a job like this, I can do with the occasional laugh.”
It didn’t escape me that, technically, he hadn’t answered. But what the hell? It wasn’t important. Nothing was.
I turned for the door, which, I noted without enthusiasm, bore precious little resemblance to pearly gates. Peter intercepted, putting both hands on my shoulders. His eyes were affectionate, his expression gentle.
“Heaven is a reward, Mark. The past remains, but the present and the future...they belong to you. Enjoy.”
I was still thinking that one over as I walked into the mist.