Chapter 18
“I know nothing about explosives,” Mason said to himself.
“Don’t touch it. There’s a little time left, still.”
“Okay. Is there any means to call the shore?”
“No. No, frankly, Mason; I swear I’ve cut it off. Relax.”
He sat down looking up at the stars above. He’d shown that star to Mary and then had tried to embrace her, for one of the first times ever. He’d danced under the stars with Julia once. Only once.
Elena sat, too. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“Why?”
“I want to know. Please. …Brother.”
Mason’s throat got blocked by a spasm.
“Okay,” he said with some effort. “Thinking whether it’s really the end, and how it actually doesn’t feel like that. Thinking how I tried to embrace Mary once when showing her the stars and how she shied away. How I’ve never told Julia I love her, and what if I never again have a chance to.”
“Do you?” Elena asked.
“I do. If you ever try to hurt her--”
“I won’t.”
Mason took some deep breaths.
“Go on, please.”
“Thinking,” he went on looking at the stars, “if I will meet Mary up there when I’m dead, and how I can explain to her why I’ve left Matthew all alone. Of course there’s Julia and she will take care of my son, thank God; then again, I’m thinking of Julia and our new baby who’s not born yet, and how she’ll grow without a father--”
“Why she?” Elena interrupted.
“Or he. I don’t know why I said ‘she’.”
“I know: because you’re trying to stir me to pity.”
“No, not – not consciously. You asked. How can I not be thinking of my children when I’m at death’s door?”
“Oh, leave the children out. Anything else you’re thinking about?”
Mason looked at Elena but her face was hard to read. “Of my life; whether I’ve lived an empty life or not. Of dad--”
“Mason!”
“No, really, of course I’m thinking of it: if it’s really so we’ll never get a chance to forget all our petty squabbles and just live like father and son should.”
“You’re doing this again.”
“I can stop.”
“No. Go on.”
“There’s little left. I’m thinking of Mother and how I’ve never got a chance to get to really know her. Then my siblings, including you. And finally--”
He paused.
“And, finally?” she prompted.
“Shakespeare.”
“Shakespeare???”
Mason smiled. “Yeah. I’ve been finding comfort in Shakespeare ever since the moment I realized I could read it and understand what it was about. Now I’m trying not to get too maudlin or sentimental, and quite naturally, I am trying to remember Shakespeare instead. Something suitable for this solemn moment.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, Elena, I’m not. Is there a way to stop this?”
“No.”
“To get in touch with the shore or another boat?”
“No.”
“Is there nothing left that I can do?”
Elena shook her head. “Frankly, nothing.”
“Okay. Then, Shakespeare.”
There was another silence.
“Why not this,” Elena said slowly. “’Twelfth Night,’ isn’t it.
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
Only this is a love song, as far as I remember.”
Mason stared at her. “You mean you, too, actually know this by heart?”
“I’m your sister,” she said, and suddenly her face got distorted in a grimace of pain and hate. “I’m your sister, damn you, and all I have, to recall at such a moment, is Shakespeare, and my adoptive father, and what I’ve done to you.”
“It’s not over yet,” Mason said gently.
“It’s as good as over, believe me.”
“Then come here.” He put his arm round her shoulders. “Look up. Do you believe people’s souls get to reach the stars?”
Elena shook her head. “No. I believe I’ll be fried in hell.”
“There’s no hell but for the one we’re creating for ourselves,” Mason said.
Any other time, he’d have been ashamed of proclaiming this; under the circumstances it seemed quite normal.
TBC
Chapter 19
Elena struggled to have him let her go; he did. She stood up.
“Oh Mason,” she cried in sudden agitation, “what is it?”
“What?” he got onto his feet and approached her. “Where?”
“Over there! Look!” she was pointing at something glistening overboard; he leant down, over the rails.
“Where?”
“Right there!” she cried and pushed him, hard. He flew overboard and found himself gulping down the salty cold water.
“Elena!” he called as soon as he could breathe.
“Yes; what is it, Mason?”
There was a gun in her hand now. “Swim away, Mason,” she said, “as quick as you can. The boat will explode very soon, I swear it will. Don’t be a fool and swim off, or you will be hurt.”
“Elena,” he pleaded – but it was getting hard, with his shoes heavy and wet, and his tie, and his jacket.
“I’m dead inside and you’re not; swim away, Mason, or I swear I’ll shoot you. Good riddance of bad rubbish.”
“Elena,” he tried again, and then there was a warning shot. Elena gave a short laugh, in her own peculiar manner.
“Go. Away.”
“Elena, please. Let me help you.”
There was another shot, and this time Elena did not miss. She fell onto the deck.
‘It must be a nightmare,’ Mason thought; what was he to do now? How could he get back to check if she was dead?
He heard a noise in the distance – a boat was approaching him. ‘They can help,’ he told himself and struggled to swim towards it.
This moment, the yacht did explode.
*
“Hey Mase, are you all right?” Pearl asked with concern.
Mason had been lifted on board the boat. Having changed his clothes for dry ones, he was now standing by the rails watching the few burning pieces of wood, all that was left from the ‘Juno.’
“I’ve never seen such a--” he said. “Ah, it’s you, Pearl. Hi.”
He was not surprised to see Pearl; on the whole, he seemed in a kind of stupor.
“Are you all right?” Pearl repeated.
“Yes. No. Pearl, Kelly--”
“She’s safe.”
“Her car--”
“We know. Kelly and Jeffrey are both safe and sound.”
“Thank God,” Mason said. “…Elena’s dead, Pearl.”
“Yeah, she would be, in such an explosion. Good riddance--”
“Pearl. She was my sister.”
“I’m sorry Mase.” Pearl put his hand on Mason’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. But it was too late. You would not have helped her.”
“It’s never too late while one is alive. And – well – Elena is not.”
“But you are.”
“Yeah. I know.” Mason rubbed his forehead. “I can tell from this heartache.”
“Shall I get you anything?”
“Yes, please. A bottle or two will do.”
Pearl estimated Mason’s state. “Okay. Mason, but you need to know something else. We’ve arrested your Indian.”
Mason’s eyes flashed. “You sure?”
“Not until you identify him. But he looks like the fellow in the picture, and he was caught when he was stuffing Kelly’s car with explosives.”
“And he’s killed my sister Elena,” Mason said quite clearly, for everyone to hear. “I’ll identify him, and then God help me, I’ll get him electrocuted.”
Pearl stared at Mason, puzzled. He’d heard the shots before the explosion, just like the members of the crew had. “You mean he--”
“He’d planted a time bomb on the ‘Juno,’ before he went to Kelly’s place, and so, he’s not only guilty of attempted murder; it’s a first-degree murder, and, gentlemen of the jury, I demand a death penalty for this person.”
Pearl shook his head. “Okay Mason,” he said gently. “Let us phone Julia, and then you can get as drunk as a fiddler if you wish.”
She picked up the phone almost immediately. “Mason?”
“Yes, Julia,” he said and smiled; hearing her voice felt so good.
“Are you all right? Where are you? Why the hell didn’t you--”
“Julia, I’m sorry. I’m all right. I’m coming,” he interrupted. “I’m – Elena’s dead.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“I’m here with Pearl, he’ll take care of everything I believe. …By the way – excellent choice of friends, Julia… Now if I do not get a drink I’ll get crazy, mind it, Pearl. Julia, I’ll come home, or rather I’ll be carried home very drunk. It’s a fair warning, isn’t it?”
“After a sleepless night. Quite fair,” she said dryly.
Mason sighed deeply. “Julia, I almost got killed several times this night. Elena did. Please have a little mercy. And – we’ll have to postpone the wedding to have Elena buried and all the decencies observed.”
“Of course. As you wish.”
“Call me an alcoholic, Julia; I thought I’d never see Matt and you again; that I shall never see our baby,” Mason said tenderly.
She sighed to hide a sob. “Mason. Please come home – in any state whatsoever, just please do come and keep safe.”
Mason nodded, forgetting that she could not see him. “I’ll do my best now,” he promised. “Please forgive me.”
And then he turned to Pearl and took – not a glass from his left hand but a bottle from his right one. “Cheers.”
TBC
Olga Lissenkova
