Conspiracy
A One Shot
Thanks to for the Flash Fiction Friday prompts. I used the phrase “rivers like veins” as a jumping off point but I reversed it and saw where it took me.
The veins of his hands ran like a dozen rivers criss-crossing each other, mixing, rising and falling over a craggy landscape. He lay there, mouth half-open, lips dry as cracked plaster. Thin tubes burrowed under the skin of both his arms pumping various colourless fluids into him, a vain attempt at prolonging his life. The beeping of the heart rate monitor was steady, lazy even.
Xander looked down at Kristoff and wondered how he had ever been afraid of such a frail old man. The bedsheets clung to his ribs, his neck was all sagging flesh, the shape of his skull protruded through the thin pale velum of his skin. Yet within that skull was a gold mine, a vast wealth of secrets. Secrets that were about to be lost and with them order. Xander clicked his pen a few more times, then tapped his notepad, then the bed frame. Kristoff did not stir. The old man lay there, barely breathing in his sleep, eyes bulging from their sockets.
Xander forced a cough. Kristoff moved his lips, the dry skin sticking together and stretching into white.
'Water,' the old man did not open his eyes.
Xander lifted the plastic cup and straw to the old man's mouth. He leaned forward, head a fraction off the pillow, had small mouthful and fell back exhausted. 'Ask your questions,' Kristoff croaked.
'I don't have questions for the answers you hold. Unknown unknowns, you know what that means?'
Kristoff nodded, 'I need to talk and you listen, take notes of the important things, or what you think is important. That it?'
Xander nodded, forgetting Kristoff had yet to open his eyes. A silence grew, the old man waiting for an answer. 'Yes,' Xander added, looking up from the blank page of his notepad.
Kristoff attempted to sit up but his arms were nothing more than dried twigs. Xander found the remote and tilted the bed. The old man thanked him and managed to peel his eyes open, they were clouded and yellow. 'I pick a story I suppose and you see if there's anything you like about it.'
'I will record it too, like the other days.'
'Of course,' Kristoff coughed hard, a dribble of blood trailed down his chin. The old man stared into the middle distance, licked his lips, and said, 'Water.'
Xander obliged and when the cup was empty Kristoff lay smiled and lay back, the lines of his voice like crumpled up linen. 'There was a Byrinean woman, divorced, single, living alone...'
Xander sank into his over stuffed chair knowing this was how all Kristoff's stories began and at some point, some minor thing would be the most crucial, the snippet that would maintain another crumb of order. The problem was the dull story encasing the vital information. He focussed on Kristoff's lips, watching them form each word as the old man stared out the window at the trees tussled by the wind into losing their brown and orange leaves.
'She was having an affair, before the divorce, with a high ranking civil servant of our country,' Kristoff coughed again, colour returned to his cheeks for a brief moment. He waved for water and after a few strawfuls lay back. 'He, the civil servant, was in trade, constantly going back and forth across the border negotiating tariffs, quotas, and what have you. Struggled to maintain his own family life. She had given up trying to climb the ladder as an apparatchik of her own state and accepted the stable middle income job with all the paperwork and none of the big decisions. Anyway, one night at dinner she was spotted by her then-husband's colleague and twelve months later she was single,' the heart rate monitor quickened.
Kristoff had skipped something, something crucial. “Single,” he'd said, and Xander knew the affair had ended but the old man hadn't said why, might never say why, but interrupting with questions made the sessions end prematurely before so Xander sat, waiting, hoping, as the old man lay there, eyes open too far and taking short breaths. Xander went to ask if Kristoff needed the nurse but the man regained his composure.
'The civil servant lost his job, or at least was shuffled round, I forget the details.' Kristoff's heart rate continued to rise even though his breathing had returned to normal.
Kristoff never forgot, Xander knew, he was obfuscating for some inane reason only he would ever know. Perhaps there was a reason, a promise or a payment for silence, it didn't matter. When Kristoff said “I forget the details” he would never share the snippet again.
'The divorce hearing was a closed court, for reasons that only became apparent during the proceedings. As with every affair there was more work conversation than either accomplice wished and the concoction of two nationalities, two government workers, one high, one low, and plenty of time together outside of the bedroom inevitably led to –' Kristoff paused to clear his throat. The old man lurched forward, a great wad of blood gushed from his mouth.
Xander balked and reached for the nurse call button behind the bed. The alarm sounded as the siren on the heart rate monitor blared, the line a series of vivid red spikes. Two nurses burst in, lowered the bed, eased Kristoff back. All Xander could do was shrink to the back of the room. A doctor came in, then two more nurses. The beeping quickened, then became constant. Words were shared back and forth, too quick and too medical for Xander to follow. Kristoff lay on his back, eyes closed, blood soaked tongue lolling from his mouth. A defibrillator was wheeled in and Xander felt the blood thumping in his ears. Another nurse came in and ushered him out the door.
He stood in the corridor, watching through the reinforced glass as the doctor applied the paddles. Kristoff's body leapt in the bed like a doll thrown around. Then again. And again. Kristoff remained unresponsive.
Kristoff was pronounced dead after several more attempts. Xander stood in the corridor, clutching his notepad and clicking his pen, terrified of the phone calls he had to make.
*
Within hours of Xander informing his superiors of the news the Chancellor had resigned citing ill health of which he claimed to have kept hidden. A day later trade deal negotiations with Byrine, the neighbouring country, fell apart due to “unassailable differences in key industries.” News-speak for no-one wanted to compromise. He searched the internet for articles about affairs in government and eventually found one he was sure was the story Kristoff was telling him, the article had little substance and was only on a single site but Xander searched the trade officials name and discovered he'd been shuffled to another department and had been charged with espionage only three hours ago. The more he lingered on the gossip sites the more happened, all seemingly disconnected. Three people were fired from their cushy civil service jobs, a rare thing. Two more politicians resigned following the Chancellor. Rumours of an impending election began to spread. Byrine, to the east, and Hosa to the south, both lay claim to regions on their borders, reigniting old tensions. A couple of members from the ruling party defected to an outlier group that had yet to became official. An investigation into the previous government's use of military action abroad was delayed amidst it all, the story falling far down the pecking order. Xander knew it would be quietly cancelled in a month or two, he'd seen it happen before.
Too much was happening all at once to be a coincidence and yet nowhere could Xander find an obituary to Kristoff. The man hadn't been famous even though he was wealthy, he had never ran for office, nor worked in government, he'd led a quiet unassuming life. His children had moved abroad, Xander recalled, his wife passing a decade prior. The man with all the secrets had been a secret himself. Xander continued to scour the news.
Within the news worthy geopolitic events was a slew of mere gossip the proper news refused to deal in until firm evidence had been established, tales of affairs had sprang up like daisies, some with video evidence. Rumours of misappropriation of funds began to spread, first from the Treasury and then the military, then from minor government bodies like the sports commission. Xander watched the domino line fall, knowing he had witnessed the start of it but that no-one would believe him. He found the recordings and began from the beginning, a story about a missing dog, hoping there would be something, anything, he could use to piece the puzzle together.
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Excellent story, full of intrigue! I'm looking forward to reading more.