Machines Like Me

She put her hand, palm downwards, on the package. Her voice was carefully modulated. ‘I’m very grateful to you.’ I was grateful for her tact. She knew as well as I did, we needed Adam on our side, online again, working the currency exchanges. She said, ‘I’ll try to do my very best, if it comes to court.’

He said, kindly, ‘I’m sure it won’t.’ There was no perceptible change in his tone when he added, ‘You schemed to entrap Gorringe. That’s a crime. A complete transcript of your story, and the sound file is also in the bundle. If he’s to be charged, you must be too. Symmetry, you see.’ Then he turned to me. ‘No need for judicious edits.’

I feigned an appreciative snort of a laugh. This was a joke of the arm-removal sort.

Into our silence Adam said, ‘Miranda, his crime is far greater than yours. Nevertheless. You said he raped you. He didn’t, but he went to prison. You lied to the court.’

Another silence. Then she said, ‘He was never innocent. You know that.’

‘He was innocent, as charged, of raping you, which was the only matter before the court. Perverting the course of justice is a serious offence. Maximum sentence is life imprisonment.’

This was too wild. We both laughed.

Adam watched us and waited. ‘And there’s perjury. Would you like me to read to you from the Act of 1911?’

Miranda’s eyes were closed.

I said, ‘This is the woman you say you love.’

‘And I do.’ He spoke to her softly, as if I wasn’t there. ‘Do you remember the poem I wrote for you that began, “Love is luminous”?’

‘No.’

‘It went on, “The dark corners are exposed.”’

‘I don’t care.’ Her voice was small.

‘One of the darkest corners is revenge. It’s a crude impulse. A culture of revenge leads to private misery, bloodshed, anarchy, social breakdown. Love is a pure light and that’s what I want to see you by. Revenge has no place in our love.’

‘Our?’

‘Or mine. The principle stands.’

Miranda was finding strength in anger. ‘Let me get this clear. You want me to go to prison.’

‘I’m disappointed. I thought you’d appreciate the logic of this. I want you to confront your actions and accept what the law decides. When you do, I promise you, you’ll feel great relief.’

‘Have you forgotten? I’m about to adopt a child.’

‘If necessary, Charlie can look after Mark. It will bring them close, which is what you wanted. Thousands of children suffer because they have a parent in prison. Pregnant women receive custodial sentences. Why should you be exempt?’

Her contempt was set free. ‘You don’t understand. Or you’re not capable of understanding. If I get a criminal record, we won’t be allowed to adopt. That’s the rule. Mark will be lost. You’ve no idea what it is to be a child in care. Different institutions, different foster parents, different social workers. No one close to him, no one loving him.’

Adam said, ‘There are principles that are more important than your or anyone’s particular needs at a given time.’

‘It’s not my needs. It’s Mark’s. His one chance to be looked after and loved. I was ready to pay any price to see Gorringe in prison. I don’t care what happens to me.’

In a gesture of reasonableness, he spread his hands. ‘Then Mark is that price and it was you who set the terms.’

I made what I already knew was going to be my last appeal. ‘Please let’s remember Mariam. What Gorringe did to her, and where that led. Miranda had to lie to get justice. But truth isn’t always everything.’

Adam looked at me blankly. ‘That’s an extraordinary thing to say. Of course, truth is everything.’

Miranda said wearily, ‘I know you’re going to change your mind.’

Adam said, ‘I’m afraid not. What sort of world do you want? Revenge, or the rule of law. The choice is simple.’

Enough. I didn’t hear what Miranda said next, or Adam’s reply, as I stood and went towards the tool drawer. I moved slowly, casually. I had my back to the table as I eased the hammer out without making a sound. I had it tight in my right hand, and held it low as I walked back towards my chair, passing behind Adam. The choice was indeed simple. Lose the prospect of regaining the money and therefore the house, or lose Mark. I raised the hammer in both hands. Miranda saw me and kept her expression unchanged as she listened. But I saw it clearly – she blinked her assent.

I bought him and he was mine to destroy. I hesitated fractionally. A half-second longer he would have caught my arm, for as the hammer came down he was already beginning to turn. He may have caught my reflection in Miranda’s eyes. It was a two-handed blow at full force to the top of his head. The sound was not of hard plastic cracking or of metal, but the muffled thud, as of bone. Miranda let out a cry of horror, and stood.