Abacus

car. W hen he realized what song it was, he laughed. The song’s title, Feelin’ All Right by Joe Cocker was more than ironic. With Irish’s warm blood still congealing on his hands, he definitely wasn’t “feelin’ all right” at the moment and the lyrics pretty much summed up the whole sordid affair with Helen and Cheung. Still, he loved the song.
    He tapped the steering wheel and sang loudly in time with Joe as he pulled up to a set of lights. He looked in the adjoining lane and saw an elderly female motorist was laughing at his performance. He gave her a wave, and continued singing. He didn’t care.
    He turned the sound down and nodded in time with the music as he thought about the lyrics. He couldn’t believe how fitting they were to recent events.
    As he cruised through the city he thought about his role in Irish’s demise, which also made him consider his own mortality. He wondered what would happen when DL thought he had reached his use by date. And what about Noel? When he went, what would happen to him? Was there a succession plan? All he knew was that he could never quit as he was in too deep.
    * * *
    Once home, he again found himself on the back deck with beer in hand, looking up at the stars. He was not his jovial self this evening. The end of Irish still did not sit well with him, especially since he had put himself in such peril to pull off the last assignment. It would be fair enough if he had played outside the rules, but to kill him over a good job did not seem fair. Even though Irish was just another crook, Randall liked him. He had character. Feeling like a chat, he flipped opened the silver phone and sent a text. Randall. Can we talk?
    S ipping on his beer bottle, Randall watched the phone until it vibrated on the table, lighting up the dark verandah.
    “I was expecting a call from you,” said Noel. He credited chats with Noel for keeping him from going insane a number of times, such was his cross to bear. He was certain if there was no Noel, he would either be a total drunk or twirling his shirt buttons with Harold at the local nuthouse.
    “So he had to go, eh?” Noel asked with a hint of sadness to his voice.
    “He was drawing too much attention, they were looking at him.”
    “M y boy, you did the right thing by everyone. He has been sorted out.”
    “Yeah , I know, but he did a really good job on the last assignment. The poor bastard was forced to inject the gift, it almost killed him, but he lived and still managed to kill the target. This termination in particular just seems a bit unfair, if you know what I mean.”
    N oel paused. “You know how it works. If it gets too hot we have to do what we have to do. We have to keep changing the bait; our assignments are bigger than any individual. We have to keep focusing on the main game.”
    “I know thi s is the only way,” Randall said, appreciating the importance of what he was being told.
    “Y ou know you have been chosen because you are able to cope, you are tough, ruthless and uncompromising. You are what you are because of animals like Jenkins.” Randall felt instant anger at the mention of his name. He momentarily forgot what the topic of conversation was.
    ” You know the importance of protecting others, and you know what a huge difference you are making. In generations to come, society will owe you a great debt. No one will know what you have done, but you will know what you have done.”
    There was a brief silence, before Noel asked, “ Is there anything else you want to talk about?”
    Randall still did not feel right about Irish’s demise, but that wasn’t something he wanted to harp on about with Noel. “No, Noel, that’s it.”
    “Okay then. ”
    “T hanks for the talk. I won’t keep you any longer, no doubt I’ll get the details for the new bait in the next few days and we’ll get back on track, eh?”
    “That’s right , chin up, and never lose sight of how important you are to the organization. Now get plenty of rest and look after yourself.”
    “Speak later .”
    Randall walked into the house , down the hall and into his son’s bedroom. From the doorway he watched Tim peacefully sleep. They had come over for a last-minute visit, which was nice. He looked around his room at the various Liverpool United soccer posters, rugby posters, and saw he had recently acquired a poster with a bikini-clad girl that had been given pride of place on the wall opposite his bed. He was growing up fast. He