Matt unhooked the seat belt. He got up in a flying plane. He was trembling badly. An air hostess asked him to sit down, but his senses were not helping him out. He was cold—terribly cold. He turned around...

Podrick was looking at him, smiling.

"Womp-womp, nigga." Podrick said and smirked. "What happened? You still don't like my whistle."

"Why are you here?"

"To finish some work."

"Are you following me?'

"You are my only target after Lynda."

*  *  *

That night, when he murdered Lady Lynda, he chopped off her fingers. Then he used a saline solution to disinfect the amputated finger as soon as possible. He placed the finger inside a sealed bag after wrapping it in damp gauze. He put that bag in an ice pack to keep the finger safe.

The next day, when dawn broke, Oswald opened the door to pick up the newspaper thrown outside. No sooner did he unroll it than a detached finger fell out of it. It did not scare him at all. It was part of the plan. He was alone there and picked it up. He grabbed Lynda's phone that was on his table, as she forgot her phone at home last night while running away. He was unsure that it could not work since the finger was sliced and kept for hours. The sensor could not detect it, but that piece of flesh was restored so delicately that the odds of failing were reduced. He took a deep breath, carefully placed it on the scanner, and voila!

Oswald let out a sigh of relief but found no new updates. He quickly removed the safety lock from her phone to easily access it anytime. After some time, when Matt received the message from the gangster's man for agreeing to help him, he sent that voice message to Lynda, which he forgot to send last night. Oswald was also tensed, as there was no hint of Matt and the police would soon discover Lynda's body, after which Matt would not even try to contact her again to stay safe. He only had a couple of hours left to track Matt down, anyhow. After having a light breakfast, Oswald went through Lynda's phone once again. To his surprise, he found a recent voice message from Matt. Actually, Lynda has received some letters from a renowned vintage car organization. Upon opening and pursuing it, she discovered that Matt's collection had impressed the organization and that a team desired to work together with him. After so many reminder mails, they gave him a deadline for accepting that. She was trying to contact Matt, but he was so engrossed in his situation that he ignored all the calls from her.

The night before the flight, Matt found a voice message from her. She narrated how upset and sick she felt being alone in that house. She was literally crying and begging for him to come back. That did not appear to bother Matt. He just enhanced the playback speed to end it earlier, but when she mentioned the letters she had been receiving, he listened to that part carefully. He brightened up after getting that news. He had been after that organization for the last two years, and finally they replied back to him. Matt saw a profitable opportunity in there and decided to respond back, but as a voicemail, not a call. He faked any reason for being busy so that he could come up at that moment. Then he specifically mentioned the response to the team and asked her to keep the mails safe as he might need them a few days later. He would be catching a flight to Belfast. He didn't mention any reason for that. He just assured her that he would be visiting her and dealing with that offer as soon as he returned. Before he could send it, he got that call from that man, and at the end he was dejected and threw his phone on the sofa.

Oswald found his voice note the next day after the breakfast. He quickly informed Podrick about his escape. Podrick quickly rushed to the airport. He was already running behind time. The delayed departure aided him a bit, and it was Matt's misfortune that Podrick got the urgent, high-fare tickets to Belfast from the same flight.

*  *  *

"I believe she is really fortunate that she applied a fingerprint lock to her phone." Podrick instigated him. "Imagine what could happen if she had applied a face lock." He ended it with a laugh.

Matt was unable to listen anymore. He turned red. The passengers around them were unable to make anything up. They were filled with fear. An air hostess reached out to Matt and asked him to sit. He wasn't hearing her at all. At once he became enraged, pushed her away, and lunged at Podrick. They were fighting like mad men. Matt clutched his neck and squeezed. Podrick started coughing. "You killed my mother, bastard!"

"She had also taken the most important thing of my life." Podrick managed to say. "You have no right to exist in this world because you are a bigger bastard than I am. You murdered him! You murdered that little boy. What wrong did he do to you?" Matt got angrier and pressed his throat more tightly. Podrick was on the verge of choking. The people around them were terribly scared. The children even started crying. Podrick's hands were shaking. He stretched his hand to the tray on which his champagne glass was kept. He grabbed it, broke it into pieces by hitting hard, and picked up a sharp piece. His eyes were bulging out, and his face was red due to the tight grip. He was left with the few last seconds of his life when he screamed at the top of his voice and swayed his hand in the air just once, in one direction. There was complete silence after that. Matt's grip loosened, and he retreated back with fumbling steps. Podrick had a labored breathing pattern and was coughing badly.

Matt's face went pale. He was staring at Podrick. Then, a red line appeared on Matt's neck. It was a slit in his throat. It was thin, but deep. He covered it with his hands, but it was futile. The unstoppable blood oozed out of the cut. He fell on the ground and was struggling in himself. He wanted to scream but he couldn't. Screams of the passengers came out. The children hid their faces. They were all horrified. Matt shook his body a few times, and then it was still. Blood surrounded him. Podrick kept staring at him for a few moments. Everyone was staring at him. He kneeled beside his dead body. 'Work is done. He is dead.' He thought. He said, "Lily, I am coming to you!" At once, he picked up the broken handle of the glass and dug it deep into his throat. The people screamed again, more terrified than last time. He fell to the ground at once, struggling. The small fountain of blood gushed out of his mouth, which gave him even more pain, but he was smiling. He died smiling.

All the passengers were hushed. The sight before them had paralyzed them. Two dead bodies, covered with blood, lay on the aisle of a flying airplane. An air hostess rushed to the pilots and informed them about the incident that happened minutes ago. An emergency landing was conducted at the nearest airport. No sooner did the plane land than the media, along with the police, had reached that place. In Edinburgh, the police had also reached the lake where the body with a knife was found. In a hospital, someone had just come out of a coma. It was a time when a deadly fate was about to fall on Victoria.

*  *  *

Victoria had not slept properly last night. She woke up early with Matt to leave for the airport. She slept in her hotel room for hours when Matt left. She woke up after that accident happened. Having freshened up, she ordered herself breakfast and then put on some makeup. She was in the habit of doing that, even though she was alone at home.

When her meal arrived, she sat before the television and decided to eat while watching it. As she switched on the television, the news channel covered the screen. She didn't want to see those anymore and picked up the remote to change it, but she couldn't. Her eyes were glued to Matt's photo, displayed in one corner of the screen. Just then, a reporter showed up and narrated everything. "Matt Barrel is found dead in the aircraft. According to the passengers, there was a man who killed him first and then committed suicide. The police are still going through this case. They say that this case has a clear connection with Lady Lynda's death. There is one more piece of information we have received from our intelligence regarding a man who was related to the Barrels. This man is John Clark, the father-in-law of Matt Barrel. He was found dead near a lake and killed with a knife. His body was thrown into the lake and was still in there for a few days. It is a lot swollen now and is sent for a post-mortem in the hospital. The police claim the person who is doing this is some sort of serial killer."

Victoria was numb. She was about to faint. "Matt...Matt is gone! Father is gone." She kept on chanting to herself. She thought she was still sleeping and dreaming. She pinched herself, slapped herself, and realized that it was the truth. It was damn true. Her eyes were filled with tears. Just then, the reporter came again and said, "This is not the end. Our channel has brought out a new link to this case. We have found a man who claims that he has a direct connection with this case. This man has come out of a coma today itself. Doctors say that he is not in need of being investigated, but the police don't want to waste any more time. The doctor asserts that the patient is not prepared for questioning of any kind. Stay with us to know what decision will be taken."

*  *  *

The doctor was checking the pulse of the patient. "It seems quite normal. You only need to rest now." The doctor said to him:.

"If he is ready, why can't he speak as a witness about what happened?" The police commissioner broke in and asked.

"Why don't you understand, officer? The patient has just come out of danger after such a long time. I advise you not to make him do all this too early."

The commissioner interrupted, "It has to be done as early as possible. You don't know what's going on in this city. So many people have already been killed, and I know there are going to be many more. Every second is precious for us. We can't risk it, doctor. We're just doing our duty."

The doctor sighed helplessly. He pointed at the patient and said, "Look at him." That man was sitting on the bed, staring into the air. It could be concluded from his countenance that he would merely be able to say anything. The commissioner understood his gesture and didn't argue anymore. "Tell me whenever he is ready." He instructed the doctor. He was about to leave the room.

"I'll do it." A voice came from behind. It was the patient looking at the commissioner.

"What?" The doctor asked, looking confused.

"I'm ready to speak the truth."

"Hey man, Do you know from which thing you just came out?" The doctor asked.

"I know, and I also know the reason why it all happened now. It's the right time for me. I don't care if I am ready or not." He paused. "The truth can't wait."

The doctor threw his hands in the air. "Alright! You carry on with your mission." He glanced at the commissioner and went out of the room.

The commissioner nodded to the patient. Then he rushed out and called for the other cops.

*  *  *

Victoria was getting insane. Her heartbeat was pacing. She was having a kind of panic attack. "Oh God! Oh God! What is this now?"

It was like a devil chanting the name of God.

She was glued to the screen, unblinkingly. Her food was kept intact. The tea was then completely cold, and so was she. The same news was getting repeated again and again, as there was no new lead on the case. She got so frustrated that she threw the jug at the television. The jug shattered into pieces, the screen cracked, and the television went all black.

*  *  *

The doctor stood at one corner. The commissioner pulled a chair and sat. He was facing the patient. "You ready?"

The patient nodded.

"Alright. Tell me about everything. What do you know about these two families? What happened to you that brought you to the hospital, and who did it? And, most importantly, what do you know about Matt and Victoria? Be calm. Don't be scared of anything. We're all with you. We'll catch the culprit."

The patient looked enthusiastic enough after that. "Alright," he said in an energetic voice, audible to everyone present in that room.

"Good. Let's begin this. Start with your name."

He took a deep breath and set forth.

"My name is Pablo."