Welcome to my World (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 30

Three officers led her to the waiting prison van, her hands still handcuffed in front of her body, one shoving her roughly between the shoulder blades to make her climb the few steps into the vehicle, telling her to sit, slamming the door shut. With no phone, with no way of contacting anyone, she studied the inside, the last she would see of this world, a ready-made coffin by any other name. Her finger went to the tracker in her wrist, tapping three times in a parting gesture to the life she once led, wishing J was there for one final epic battle, never once imagining her life ending like this, downside up, outside in, front to back.

The good girls were bad, the Prime Minister in league with the devil and God's new banker, benefitting from whatever Margot Clanton had to offer in the seedy underworld of tainted money, and corrupt politicians. The lists she had been promised to expose JOSHUA gone, removed from the dark web, no way of proving her innocence, even if it would be after her death. M would stick up for her, she hoped, if she survived. Then again maybe not, probably using her death as a cover to do what she needed to do. Did M know the British Prime Minister was a traitor? Maybe, maybe not. Did it matter anymore? Not really. Would Waverly believe the lies? She prayed she wouldn't, the only thing left to pray for in her final moments.

The movement of the van as it left the police station sent a wave of panic through her body. Somewhere along this journey she was about to take she would meet her end. Perhaps a bullet in the chest, perhaps to the head, perhaps hands around her neck, less messy for those carrying out the deed she calculated. She might have a chance fighting off one if they attempted to strangle her, maybe two, fighting off a bullet aimed at her head, or her heart, not so much. Either way this was it, the final curtain, the big farewell.

The van's motion had her holding onto the side rail to stop from bouncing off the seat, every turn, every slowing of the engine an agonising wait for the end to arrive. Then a long stretch on what she guessed must be motorway, the prison van picking up speed, Nicole unable to gauge how far they had travelled, or where they might be going. And, all the while a passage from Thomas Hardy's 'Tess' returning to haunt her, that of the other date, the date holding more importance than a birthday in its arrival each and every year, knowing this was the day Hardy had alluded to:

"...a day which lay sly and unseen among all the other days of the year, giving no sign or sound when she annually passed over it; but not the less surely there. When was it?"

That day was today.

Eternity would have been shorter compared to this journey, her heart hurting as it beat behind her ribcage, fear taking over as she knew the minutes were ticking down until the moment she would step into the great unknown.

The van slowed, turning right, the surface of whatever road they were travelling on jolting her off the seat. Landing hard on the floor, wincing at the sharp pain travelling through her hip, she pulled herself back up onto the seat, waiting, waiting. The moment of praying over.

Nothing. No sound, the vehicle at a stop, panting, taking in air before the deed was done. A gun shot, not a machine gun, a hand gun she assessed. Another shot, nearer this time, directly outside the van, bracing herself, waiting for the door to open, hoping it would be quick, hoping she would not have to die slowly. A voice, a fist banging on the door. "You okay?"

Xavier's voice. It sounded like Xavier. "Is that you?"

"It's me. Is that you?"

"Get me out."

"Trying. Give me a moment."

The door opened, Xavier's head appearing in the entrance. "Whatcha doing in there?"