The
showdown
21.
Sushila
saw the descending figure on the rope. He was familiar to her despite his
change of attire. He had changed to the uniform, but the look was distinct; the
beard and the clumsiness which he descent. He was armed from where she could
make out, the pistol on the waist belt. She wanted to reach for the rifle and
take aim but hesitated. She saw then a ledge on the climb and moved there. She
wanted to wait for him.
“Huh!”
The Mullah reached for the pistol but he fumbled and then scrambled for the
rope. He looked at her standing there on the ledge which was sufficient to hold
more than two of them. He swung over and perched on the ledge before he spoke
to her.
“You
are from the Guild. I remember you.”
“I
am Sushila from the Guild. I was given the task to kill you but was told to
hold back while I was with the one named Duncan.” Sushila spoke in her native
tongue with the rifle levelled at the Mullah. “I did not know why but that
periods of time, I was to be taken in by the man. I fell in with my enemy.”
“Is
he here? This Duncan?” The Mullah asked.
“He
is dead. He died on my dagger.”
“You
are well trained, Assassin of the Guild. Your master will be proud of you.” The
Mullah complimented her. “Tell me what motivate you so much? The killing or the
love?”
“Both.
I love to kill. I also kill for love.” Sushila replied to the Mullah. “One of
your slaves was my sister. They are all my sisters. Not of blood but of care.
And by ….. country. They died by your deceit.”
“Your
sister? How would I know? I had many of
them shipped out or slaved there. I know not their names. They are whores.” The
Mullah snapped back. “Just like the ones that died on the hills, they are
unknown.”
Sushila
was to pull the trigger when the dagger struck at her chest. She staggered on
the impact and then looked below. She saw the dagger there at where the heart
was located. She was near death, and then she knew she had to do it. It was her
task.
Sushila
pulled the trigger but the second dagger impacted on her left fingers holding
the rifle wooden stock beneath the barrel. She dropped the rifle and then gave
one look at her fingers. She had lost two fingers; one severed and the other
dangling by the knuckle. She fell to her knees and then her right hand held her
left hand at the bloodied ends. It was her weapon, the hands that could kill
with a single jab or fist, the hands that held the dagger to strike at the heart
or the eyes, the same hands that she intertwined into Duncan’s when they
smiled.
“Sushila!”
The lady felt herself lifted to lay back against the soft warm flesh. It was
not Duncan but the Doctor. He was the one who did this and then held her to
comfort.
“I
will …” Sushila looked into the eyes of the doctor; and was the man who was to
end her life there. “I could not let you kill.”
‘We
are not…. Killer’s. We are …. Murderer’s.” Sushila spoke the truth. Duncan
would had wanted it to be told then.
“Thank
God you stopped her.” The Mullah still holding onto the rope sighed out in
relief. “She was a killer.”
Doctor
Watson looked at the Mullah. The other was standing there undecided; to escape
or return to the castle. He was the cause of the dead there.
“Who
are you, my good man?” The Mullah asked.
“The
devil in disguise.” Doctor Watson replied while he reached for the dagger on
Sushila’ belt. He tossed the dagger at the Mullah. The dagger struck at the
throat and caused the Mullah to drop to his knees. He was trying to speak but
the Doctor was past listening. Doctor Watson lowered the lady to the ground
when he heard the shouts from above. He then stood up and grabbed the rope. He
was leaving the place.
A
week later in London, the mathematician lecturer tossed the crumbs towards the
pigeons in the park. His companion dressed in the dark grey suit leaned back
with the walking stick leaned on his lap.
“I
got the update that the Mullah died in the highlands. He was killed by a
foreigner. The Regiment investigated the case and the Hidden Ones are
disbanded. The Colonel Fleming was transferred to the Intelligence Section; a
new one minted by the Empire to counter such threats. They are exclusive and given
the orders to kill if needed.”
“More
killers, Colonel. I much prefer the simple culling to avoid the contagion. Tell
me, Colonel. What happened to the Doctor?”
“I
heard he returned to London. He is looking for a new place to stay. He is
avoiding the …killing scene.” The Colonel replied. “He may be looking to start
a new practice perhaps; healing.”
“A
brand new start. Jolly good. I am hoping he won’t get into my issues.” The
mathematician smiled. “I heard there is an upcoming chemist by name of Holmes
who likes to partake in criminal investigations. Perhaps they shall not meet.
Chemistry and Medicine could result in explosive relationship.”
“In
my analogy, it’s the brain matters that explode.” The Colonel replied with his
right hand fingers mimicking firing the trigger.
“True,
but the mathematical probability is … slim but possible with your skills.”
Down
at Devon Port, Doctor Watson stood at the pier and looked at the ships. He
wanted to get on board and return to the Frontier where he had lived for the
last few years. Maybe it was a mistake to come back to London. He was happier
at the Frontier.
He
was well respected as the healer and the killer.
A
complete balance to his ego.
“Sir,
did you leave your bag at the bar?” A young boy in the blue sailor suit handed
him the leather case he owned. He thanked the boy and took back his case. He
looked inside and saw the holster with the daggers sheathed there. He smiled.
A
doctor needed his scalpel just as the killer needed his daggers. Doctor Watson needed both for his renewed ego.
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