20150602

Clandestine Meeting

Meeting a total stranger is always an odd event. The usual pleasantries are exchanged, an effort to find a commonality, culminating into a series of pointless and sometimes superficial discussions. This event, however, is far from normal. We both believe to know something about the other, but he has the advantage. I do know, from the newspapers, what is going on with the police (superficially), but until I identify this man, I do not know where he fits into the process; let alone begin to understand the man himself. He seems to have kept our encounter to himself, but I don't know that for certain and this meeting could be a trap. The risk is high and my meeting him in a public place doesn't omit my arrest, but I have a plan that should allow the postponement of the inevitable. I'll know, when I see his face.
Standing outside the pub, I watch the activity near the door. Seems like all the other times I've been here, no sign of police or other threats. Upon entering the smoke filled room, I make my way to the bar. George is there, serving the red faced, bloated workers and pulls me my usual pint of bitter. Scanning the dark space I see a figure sitting in the booth I was in the last fateful visit. I slowly move closer, through the crowd of merry makers, and stop a few feet from the table; just able to peer around the tall wood seat back. I had expected him to be starring at the door, eyes fixed on my entrance, but instead, he was concentrating on the beer glass in front of him. Was he trying to will it to perform some magical feat? The expression on his face was of sheer desperation. I am not sure how long I stood there starring at him starring at his beer glass, but eventually he turned his gaze towards me. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and I must have appeared as either a ghost or  dream because his expression didn't change, until I moved towards him. Just as I reached the table, he slid over and popped up, in one motion, to stand eye to eye with me. His agility surprised me a bit since I would not have expected that in his current condition. His eyes brightened from their dazed state, mouth gaped slightly and he uttered, in a low tone, 'you're... here... Jack.'
I decided to play the proper Englishman and asked if I could join him at the table. He stuttered a positive response and I sat down with my pint in hand. Still in some shock, he slowly sat back down and we continued our starring contest for a few more minutes; breaking the spell, I said he had me at a disadvantage for I was not acquainted with his name. He introduced himself as Samuel Warren, Detective. I could see the flood of questions ready to pour from his mouth, but this was not the place for our delicate discussion. I told him that unless I felt I could trust him, he would learn nothing from me. To earn my trust, he had to do the following and any deviation from my instructions meant he would never see me again, anywhere. Warren assured me he only wanted, needed, to understand... my situation.
Taking his word, I gave the following instructions- leave exactly 20 minutes after me and go straight home. In three days, return to the pub promptly at 7 p.m. and see George, the barkeep, he will have a envelope which will explain what to do next. Warren said he didn't understand and I told him he soon would. I got up to leave and Warren remained, starring once again in disbelif.
Another layer has been added to the madman's game. I hope this new player has what it takes... I can't be responsible for any more deaths.

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