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. . . she
recognised in those unblinking, unflinching eyes her
imminent death. . . and abandoned all
hope.
Hours passed... The natural
silence was complete. There were no leaves on the trees to
answer the chill, almost windless air. The only sound,
muffled by the cold and distance, was man-made and came from
the occasional passing car on one of the two roads which,
west and east, flanked this modest area of unfenced urban
parkland. Often crowded by day, especially in the summer
months, it now stood empty... shunned by any living,
breathing human presence. But this place, created to
celebrate human excellence, must sooner or later draw to
itself some other aspiring or despairing human spirit and,
with one of time's gentle little ironies, the next to pass
this way would be another in preoccupied
self-torment.
He'd told himself so
often over the last weeks that it couldn't go on. He had to
put a stop to it. Of course, it would take a certain
courage... though he persuaded himself that, looking back on
his earlier life, he hadn't often been lacking in nerve, or
even daring. He could surely summon up what was necessary.
It was a problem that had to be faced and the sooner the
better.
He nearly missed
her. She was out of his immediate line of sight as he walked
towards the shore. But, once his eyes locked onto that
solitary and lifeless figure, set in an almost staged
tableau before him, he was unable to turn away. He drew
closer, responding with a tumult of emotions and thoughts:
some irrelevant, others of an intensity that threatened to
overwhelm him and seemed to be drawing him in surprising
directions.
His normally
reliable sense of time abandoned him. He would afterwards
have no concept of how long he stood transfixed by this
unexpected and cruelly compelling sight... But then he shook
himself -- physically and mentally. He couldn't stand here
staring. He had to act.
"You're late, Miranda," said
Tero as she passed his desk en route to her
own.
She didn't need
telling, thank you very much! Some forty minutes earlier,
stepping onto the pavement outside the flat she shared with
her younger sister, Rosie, Miranda had found her treasured,
two-year-old Opel Corsa boxed in by a battered old van and a
flashy red BMW. They'd left her no more than a few inches
either end. And neither vehicle was even displaying a
resident's parking permit! At first she tried to manoeuvre
her way out by tacking back and forth. It was hopeless.
Digging out her mobile, she phoned Leena in Registry. The
van was from out of town -- somewhere up north -- and its
owner didn't appear to have a cellphone. Fortunately, the
BMW's owner did, and Miranda dialled the number. It rang for
over a minute. She was wondering whether to give up and call
a taxi, when an irritable male voice grunted something
unintelligible. She didn't know what she was interrupting
and didn't care. She threatened him with tow trucks, with
swarms of traffic wardens crawling over him and his
pretentious penis-substitute, with an eternity of police
harassment. He'd better get down here pretty damn quick and
let her out! Grudgingly he agreed, but kept her waiting
another ten minutes... with full malevolent intent, Miranda
was sure. Having sat in her car and ignored him -- to avoid
any risk of getting physical -- she pulled out into the
traffic stream and focused on reining in her emotions. No
way would a creep like that affect the quality of her
driving.
But now she'd
arrived at Pasila HQ almost half an hour late.
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