“Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock Charles old chap, come on, must think of a plan soon.” Charles was talking to himself, sat in the dark, in a chair by a fire, that had gone out many hours ago. He was thumbing the well worn locket of his first wife that he wore for good luck and had put away the best part of half a bottle of scotch.
Tomorrow was the funeral for his second wife and unless something happened during the day, the trail of the man who was seemingly bent on revenge had gone cold. To all intents and purposes the man was dead. There were no traces of him other than the notes Charles had received and Charles most definitely was at a loss of what to do next.
This made Charles incredibly angry. He’d built a career out of knowing what to do next and now here he was, alone, having lost two wives, on the verge of being an old man, with a young son that he had no idea how to raise and an enemy that he couldn’t see, let alone begin to fight.
“Well, when you can’t fight, may as well sleep.”