Today, I will meet a man, who others propose, has the answer to a question I have been searching for. A question that it has taken me many years to answer. It is nothing as tragic as an orphan’s tale, nor sobering as news from a long lost brother. No, not even the despondent letter from a dead loved one. The task set for me is not my own. I bear the standard and the weight of another. I will carry this burden until either I die or it is completed. A dying friend’s last words can have that sort of effect on a man. I cannot, and I will not rest until he is answered for.
So it is that I approach a lonely corner of a quiet park where a single man sits. I have been trying to get the evidence he now holds for five long years. This will be it, and if not I can only pray that God will give me the patience to continue in His work.
Jonathan Callaghan approached the two-sided bench in the early morning, sitting with his back turned to the stranger. Had he not known any better, he would have guessed he was some sort of stock salesman by his attire, a common sight on the streets of New York City.
“The weather is pleasant this evening, is it not?”
Jonathan had rehearsed his own part in the odd greeting, “Yes, it would be a good day to be out on the ocean.”
The gentleman nodded, handing over a file to Jonathan, “I believe this is what you are after?”
Jonathan snatched it from his hand, examining its contents, anger bursting through him as he realized most of it was redacted. “You call this information?” Jonathan clenched his free hand, knuckles turning white.
“Unfortunately, yes. I don’t think you are aware of the kind of strings I pulled to get you even this.” He sighed, “You have some very powerful friends,” he paused, thinking, “but even more powerful enemies.”
Jonathan let out an exasperated exhale. It was the product of years of dedicated, fruitless labor. He thought the Bible taught that men reap what they sow. He was still waiting for the harvest.
“Alright, where is the rest of it?” Jonathan was sick of these mind games. He would have his answers, and he would do whatever it took to get them.
“I thought you might say that.” The nameless man handed him another file, similar as before, but containing a different sort of sensitive information. Jonathan looked it over; it was a job. “My,” he stopped, determining a safe way to approach, “shall we say, employer, may be able to give you more details regarding your inquiry. However, he needs something in return.”
“Can he guarantee me what I need?”
“Alright. I will do it, and make sure to let your employer know that I don’t take kindly to being played.”
“Oh, no. My employer has nothing but the utmost respect for your skills.” With that, he got up, slinking away into the darkness of early morning.
Vray Dross, I’m coming for you.