Page 111 of The Triangle

It wasn’t until a few years later when Lars kept getting kicked out of upper school after upper school that it began dawning on me that nature is perhaps more powerful than nurture. That you can try to protect a child, shield them from the evils of the world, but—at the end of the long day—they are who they are.

Maybe it’s because our bloodline traces back to our great-grandfather and great-grandmother. Two fearless people who followed their hearts. Hearts that had to be filled with so much passion that they spit directly in the world’s face and said, “Ek gie nie ’n fok nie.” I don’t give a fuck. Fok your rules. Fok your system. Fok your world. We will do as we like.

Maybe it’s because our father was a heartless naaier who left a trail of hurt and pain wherever he went on his way to achieving his own brand of power.

And that’s what birthed us. That combination of passion and ruthlessness is bred into us.

Or maybe we’re just fokken insane.

It’s probably a mixture of all of it.

Regardless, after a while it became clear that Lars wasn’t meant for civil society. So I brought him along with me. I am Captain Hook, after all. Collecting lost boys—and girls—and helping them learn to be pirates. Like that laaitie, Solomon. Dear Solomon, who seemed so nervous and grateful when he approached me on the plane. Dear Solomon, whose life I saved back in the warehouse in Cape Town. Dear Solomon, who seems to have picked the wrong side in this fight and who I’m going to take great pleasure in watching die.

Eish. That’s just rage talking. Izit? Probably. No place for rage. No time for it. One must assume that he was just following orders. I feel quite confident that Lars, whatever this plan of his is, didn’t tell anyone the details. Didn’t tell them who they were being dispatched to handle. As my number two, Lars is expected to be listened to when I’m not around.

To be clear, the distance between number one and number two in my organization is a great length to travel indeed. But still… Lars is the rightful heir. Looks like maybe my bae bru has grown tired of waiting his turn though.

But that still doesn’t explain a few things.

Things like: Christine. The tumble she took. The shot she took. Why she’s been taken rather than killed.

Although I assume I know the last one. And it makes me sick to my fokken stomach.

What is also unexplained though is: Why? I know power is intoxicating. I understand that better than most. But these are some extraordinary fokken lengths, man. This is an awfully elaborate set of circumstances into which one must put one’s energy just to seize something like power.

There has to be another reason that this is playing out the way it is. There must be.

The only thing I’m sure of is that this is my fault. I did this. I started this all in motion. Not when I arrived here. Not even when I called Danny. I set it in motion a decade ago when I pummeled that unfortunate naaier in that boxing club. When I decided that I wanted Danny Fortnight to love me.

I have all the money anyone could ever need, but none of it could’ve bought me the glimpse into the future that I needed to keep this nightmare from happening.

This is my fault.

“Let’s fuckin’ go!” Danny’s voice. Shaking me from my stupor.

He stands above me, bare chest sweaty and glistening in the chilly moonlit night. He’s reaching down for me. I stare at it a moment before ignoring his reach and standing. We’re looking each other in the eye.

“What?” he says. “Let’s fuckin’ move!” I keep staring. “Dude, come on!” he shouts. “What?” he asks again when I don’t respond. “Fuckin’ what? The Brasil thing? Fuck. It’s not… I wasn’t going to… I’ll explain it later, but we gotta fuckin’ go!”

I don’t know who to believe. Who not to believe. Ironic, since I’m usually the one not to believe. Maybe I’ve just told so many lies that I can’t keep track anymore. Maybe some of these lies are mine and, like Christine, I just don’t remember.

Danny was setting me up. Christine was setting both of us up. Or not. It don’t matter. Only one thing matters right now.

I lift my gun and point it in Danny’s direction.

He flinches, shock on his face, and he ducks as he lifts his weapon in return. Which is helpful, because it leaves me an open shot to take out the remaining naaier who had his stupid fokken laser sight pointed at the back of Danny’s head.

You don’t need a laser sight if you know how to aim well.

A spray of blood from a lanced jugular vein arcs up into the black night as my bullet finds the lone exposed bit of flesh on the gunman’s neck. His faceplate comes flying off and I realize I recognize him.

Gerry.

Gerry who had an unsecured mobile as I was flying here to wander unknowingly into something resembling End of Days. Ah, well. As I thought when he loaned me his phone, normally an infraction like having an unsecured mobile would be grounds for dismissal. This is a much greater disregard for the rules. Much greater.

So… You’re dismissed, Gerry, my china.

Danny looks behind him at Gerry’s fallen body, a startled expression in his eyes.