Rendezvous

It was early in the evening whe Jonathan decided to turn on the television. Firstly, he wanted to know the time left till he could cook dinner, and secondly, whether it had been a successful day. Flicking casually to the news channel, the young, neat-looking gentleman put his feet up on the wooden coffee table, which was carved with curious foreign designs.

A rather bedraggled looking reporter stood in front of a pitiable part of Melbourne holding a black umbrella in the downpour that had been enveloping the east coast for the week.

<i> Thank you, Gilbert Rogers speaking at the scene of the tragedy. In Perth, a man has been stabbed violently four times in the shoulder, abdomen and neck in a seemingly unprovoked attack. A neighbour found the man lying outside his home in a critical state, doctors at the Western Hill hopsital have yet to comment on his condition. On a brighter note, the East Perth Didgeridoos conquered the Lions in a death-defying match, or so it seems with that sharp tackle executed but Aaron Liras...</i>

Jonathan changed the channel, unhappy with the verdict. Sighing in disappointment he rose and fingered the neat knot of the tie at his neck before heading towards the kitchen to defrost the chicken. He had been ordered to stab the man five times, not four, and once in the calf, none in the neck.

He reached for his glasses, perched conveniantly on the microwave, and began to chop some tomatoes. Chopping, chopping, chopping into little bits, Jonathan was unaware that he was making indents in the board as he mentally visualised the struggle with the man and imagined the triumphant final stab. Dexterously flicking the switch on the stovetop, the induction coils flared to life with an invisible flame.

While waiting for the chicken to defrost, Jonathan found it proper to remove the Holy Bible from an upper cupboard, next to where the knife was usually kept. A man only fines it too difficult to accept that death is ultimately for a good cause. Book-marked meticulously, page seventy-six was chosen.

The chicken had defrosted.

Just as he was crushing the garlic, Jonathan's pager bleeped monotonously. He immediately read the message: 'Meet me down here, NOW'.

A rush of cold blood seemed to dampen his senses as he turned the stove's temperature to a low and hurriedly walked towards the basement door. So fearful, and afraid<i> The lord moves in mysterious ways</i>, Jonathan thought slowly.

to be continued...