The Dead Land: Chapter 3

3
It took Agatha no time at all to settle into ten Downing Street. Her political party had won by miles, although it was made up only of a small band of trusted men and women. She eased herself into a chair in relaxation, propping her spike heeled shoes on her desk and chugging back wine like it was water straight from the bottle. Her right hand man, Jordan Carter (who had himself killed the Prime Minister, under Agatha’s orders) stood tall like a sky scraper beside her. He never quite knew what his relationship with Agatha was. He was muscly and good looking, with coffee coloured skin and eyes like melting chocolate. He looked like a typical guy from Bay Watch, but Agatha was not a typical woman who would easily fall at his feet. He loved her dearly, and would do almost anything for her, yet often she seemed oblivious to him. However, that night, he had her full, undivided attention. She gestured at the chair opposite her with a smile.
“No need to be so formal, Jordy,” she teased as he took a seat “After all, you already know all my secrets.”
She stood up and circled her desk until she was stood directly behind Jordan. He sat as still as he could, but his heart was beating fast, like the beat of a drum against his chest, faster and faster, but he didn’t know whether it was with excitement or fear. He couldn’t make up his mind.
“You have been very valuable to me for a long time…a long time indeed.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Call me Agatha, for goodness sake…”
“Sorry. Yes Agatha. It has been an honour and a privilege.”
She laughed a light musical laugh, “I’m glad to hear it.” She perched on the edge of her desk with a sigh, and looked deep into Jordan’s eyes. He could feel himself blushing, and it wasn’t easy to make him blush. She leant forwards with an almost childish grin, pouting slightly.
“You know, Jordan. Not everybody understands me. The real me. I’m different aren’t I? I’m not like other people.”
“You are perfect just the way you are, ma’am….I mean Agatha.”
“You are kind. But I’m not sure you understand. It’s not that they don’t like me, they don’t like my way of thinking. Of course, people like you trust me and know my plans. But there are others who…would disagree. For example, some would disagree with me killing the Prime Minister…but you and I know, it was for the best. My plan will make this country a better place…for some. Not for others, of course. And they are the people who will hate me. But there will always be winners and losers. I only want winners. And you understand that.”
“Of course.”
Agatha drew out the knife she kept in her belt which glistened in the light, but Jordan wasn’t aware of this.
“Do you know what will happen to those who are unfaithful? Untrustworthy?”
Jordan shook his head. Agatha pressed the cold metal of the blade to his throat, her breath on his face. He gulped fearfully, but didn’t dare move a muscle.
“I think you know now, don’t you?” She traced the knife across Jordan’s cheek and pressed lightly, a trickle of blood running on to her fingertips.
“Be glad you’re on my side. There will be more bloodshed, but not for you. Not if you carry on the way you are going.”
Jordan wasn’t sure whether he was in danger or not, but then Agatha laughed and kissed him lightly on the cheek and he felt reassured.
“You have nothing to fear,” she said, and dismissed him from the room with a wave of her hand. And for some reason, Jordan left the room more in love with the psychopathic Prime Minister than he had been when he walked in.