The crispness of the morning pricked his face as he ventured out on his daily jog. His routine was always the same – wake early; down a two-shot strong black coffee; browse the news headlines; check the work emails before heading out into the morning air to commence his 6am jog; home by 7am; warm shower; shave with a cutthroat razor naturally. Ready to face whatever the day could throw at him.
He jogged into the large, sweeping park and absorbed the panoramic views of the city in which waking office workers braced themselves for another working day. As always, he ran against the clock, competing with himself, forever trying to improve on his personal best. Climbing through the park he drove onwards, ignoring the tightening in his calves as he pushed past the bandstand and picnic area, a quaint throwback to simpler times. He came to a halt and stood with hands on hips, breathing deeply. He looked at his watch and checked his time. Pathetic. He quickly reset the timer to zero, not wanting to be reminded that he was well adrift of his personal best. Time was not his friend today.
After a short while his breathing became less laboured as he stood taking in the view of the new office blocks rising majestically above the old town, a symbol of the new wealth that had reinvigorated the area. He always felt his morning jog not only kept him physically fit, but mentally alive as well; it shook away the cobwebs.
Except today.
He had worked towards this moment, planning for every eventuality, keeping those close to him few in number but vast in loyalty. Yet his faith had been rocked. One short email, simple in tone, light on words, but which threatened everything, had arrived in his inbox. His inner circle was in danger of fragmenting. He was on the cusp of greatness; an idea which once seemed so implausible was now on the verge of becoming reality. With the scale of the operation about to increase, there was no way he could allow his dream to be scuppered at the very last moment. He had to act decisively.
He reached for his mobile and looked through his contacts to find the number he wanted. As he went to dial his mind drifted to Rosamund and Jasper, his beloved wife and son. He missed them with all his heart, their deaths haunting him, visiting him when he least expected. Rosamund had fought valiantly but her body, weary from relentless treatment, could finally take no more. He had held her in his arms as she passed quietly in their home, whispering his love to her, telling her that she was his inspiration. Little did he realise he would also lose his son that night. Jasper, racing home to be with his dying mother, lost control of his car, veering fatally into oncoming traffic. As he thought of Rosamund and Jasper he reflected how death had dealt him the cruellest of hands, how helpless he felt to change the cards as they landed before him taking his wife and son.
But today he was the dealer, the cards marked in his favour like never before.
He took a moment to compose himself, amidst the chirping birds who merrily went about their business, their morning song signalling the start of a new day, the start of a new chapter in the constantly evolving saga of life. But first he had a problem to face. And it needed to be resolved.
He looked at the number on his mobile and recalled how his friend had held him together during the weeks and months following that fateful night. Had it not been for the dedication of his friend he doubted he would have had the strength to continue with life at all. And yet he had, and it was his time – he knew that now – he’d paid his dues and was soon to be rewarded. The phone rang four times before it was answered, the familiar voice at the end of the line, as ever, quiet but always firm.
“Good morning sir. I wasn’t expecting you to call so early.” He listened intently noting the concern in the voice of his Master.
“I see. Leave it with me. I’ll get this tidied up.”