The Man Who Knew

At twilight I saw Brian’s crappy old Nissan Cherry hiding under the trees in the corner of Tesco’s car park. He obviously had little money left now, despite a reasonable career; he’d once made Vice-Principle at the local comprehensive but then he wrote the article in the local rag - that was the big no-no for the Board of Governors. You can do all that conspiracy stuff in the specialist publications for the sci-fi fantasists because most of them don’t take it seriously anyway. He would have been under the radar with them, just another ‘enthusiast’ taking things a little too far but no big deal.

When he brought his obsession into the real world that was another matter. I mean you don’t want your kids taught by some nutter who actually believes ‘they’re here’.

He had to go. The early pension may have helped but then he spent most of it on surveillance equipment and the van with the tracking device and the mad trips to NASA. It must have cost a small fortune. The van and the rest of the paraphernalia had to go to a middle-aged Spielberg fan with an ET hangover, just to pay the bills.

But we all ‘want to believe’ don’t we? Well Brian certainly did.

Problem is he still does.

I rolled up beside him and knocked on the misted-up window. There was a sudden jerky blur of movement inside the Nissan; he’d obviously been asleep. I opened the passenger door and got in.

“Hello Brian, You’ve led us a merry dance trying to track you down.”

“Who are you, where’s Rose?” His head craned around although he couldn’t see beyond the window’s condensation.

“We’ve met before Brian, I’m Dr. Tom Swanell, the Senior Consultant your case was referred to last year when your daughter Rose tried to have you committed. Remember? We put you on a course of medication instead. I was sorry to hear from her about your latest episode. She called me after you asked her to meet you here. Apparently you told her you had everything with you and were ready to show it to the media. What's 'everything' Brian?

“I’m not crazy if that’s what you think. I know a lot, too much for my own good maybe. I've got the list that will blow the whole thing apart.”

“What whole thing Brian? Is this the list of famous people again? The famous celebrities, the Head of the Met Police, the Archbishop of Canterbury for God’s sake! Rose showed me this and some of your other manic doodlings. She played me the taped interviews with those poor deluded souls. She ran the grainy film footage of the so-called ‘meetings’. I mean these are important people Brian, of course they get together from time to time.”

“I’ve got other stuff as well, boxes of it in the boot I’ve never shown Rose. Dates, times, close-ups, conversations; all ready for a Parliamentary cross-party committee; one that the Prime Minister can’t sweep under the carpet.” He gave me a maniacal grimace. “I will have my day!”

“Ok, Brian, I think I’ve heard quite enough. It’s time to have you in again I’m afraid; the treatment’s no longer powerful enough. I don’t want to section you but this can’t go on, for Rose’s sake if not your own.”

I paused, seeing defiance in his eyes. “Your wife committed suicide nine years ago, didn’t she, about this time. Rose thinks you still blame yourself, your obsession. Is that what this is all about? You don’t want to lose your daughter as well do you? My advice is stop skulking around out here; go home, ask Rose to make an appointment with us and we’ll find something to help you. Think about it Brian.”

I opened the car door and placed a foot outside.

“You’re on my list too.”

I paused then got back in and shut the door.

“What list is that, Brian? Another one?”

“My local one, for this town. I’ve been keeping tabs on everyone here for the last five years. You see I eventually realised it must be widespread, in every community, probably all over the world. It’s not just the bigwigs, the famous; it’s the little people as well. The local police, the magistrate, the Headmaster at Rose’s old school, maybe even the manager of Tesco's.” He glanced across the car park. “They’re everywhere. You’re one of them as well.”

“And how do you know all this?” I asked evenly.

He smiled at me for the first time, proud of himself, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to. “It’s the little finger of their right hand. It’s too short, two thirds normal size. They wear an extension on it, very lifelike but it itches so they rub it; they don’t even realise they’re doing it. Nobody else knows about that, just me. I worked it out and tested it. It’s the same for all of them; the rich and the power-full, the famous leaders like Kennedy, Bush and Thatcher, even Ghandi and Churchill. But then there’s the ordinary ones, the ones like you. I’ve got them all on film, archived through the years. I saw you do it just now as we were talking by the way.”

I nodded slowly then got out. “Take care Brian, go home to Rose.”

John Bennett, the local mayor, stepped out of the shadow of the trees as Brian’s car moved off. “How was he this time?” I shook my head. “Oh, well that’s sad for his daughter.”

“I know,” I told him, “If only there were some other way. He knows about the little finger thing too.”

John whistled. “Clever guy, not many get that far. Plan B then?”

I nodded. “Make it look good, we don’t want any slip-ups. “

“The Marilyn Option...?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, “The Marilyn Option. It’s a shame we have to kill so many when we originally came here just to study them; it’s such a waste.”

“That was a long time ago, though.” John reminded me.

“Yes,” I agreed, suddenly feeling homesick, “that was a very long time ago...”