Jack was escorted to the airport. He met his old ally there, Romanov. They shook hands but never saw eye to eye. One believed in capitalism and the other in communism. That was enough for men raised in those ages. You made your millions and squandered it, said Romanov. You never made any and yet squandered millions, replied Jack. But you return to no one, said Romanov. What about you? asked Jack. I have my family, he hinted at the people in the plant. We each tell our stories so that we can get up in the morning, said Jack. Sometimes one story is better than the other, said Romanov. Jack laughed, only if you can't cover it well enough, he said and walked into the aircraft. As he walked into the aircraft, there was a man in a mask. What do you want? asked Jack. Have a seat, said the masked man. I have an assignment for you, he said. I'am not interested, said Jack. This is beer and steak, said the hostess. You can't buy me with a snack, said Jack. If you say no, then you go back to the hole you just crept out off, said the masked man. Jack dived into his meal without talking a word. What do you have to live for? asked the masked man. You have no family, no reputation, said the masked man. Jack continued to drink his beer. The masked man opened a briefcase which he took it upon his hands. He opened it and there was a million dollars in it. Mushimoto San, said Jack. I have no interest in your money, he said. The Japanese removed his mask. What has happened to you? asked the Japanese. I'm trying to save my soul, he replied. Mushimoto could not help but laugh. What are you now? a saint ? he asked. No, just a man changed, he said. Mushimoto closed the suitcase and let Jack enjoy his meal.
1995 AD
Jack was an old man. Very old and walked with a cane. What can i do for you? asked Constantine sitting behind his powerful chair. I'm owed some money, he said. I have no idea who you are sir, said Constantine. Nor do I, he replied hinting at his Alzheimer's. What do we owe you money for? asked Constantine gathering some sympathy for the old man. For killing people, he said. Constantine was perplexed. I owe you money for what? asked Constantine who was having one of his busier days. I have no time for this, he said. He lit a cigarette and went through other documents. "You Russian" he complained. Constantine looked at him and smiled. "I'am not a Russian," he said and went in with his work. But you are human, said Jack. Yes of course, replied Constantine as he puffed out smoke. Then you would mind having regrets on your deathbed, he said. I would, grunted Constantine who was too young for such wisdom. Jacks eyes grew with ferocity of yesteryear. You don't know when death comes knocking at you son, it maybe around the corner even, he said. Are you threatening me old man, asked Constantine. No, replied Jack. I just don't want you to die knowing that you could have given a old man a decent death. One that he deserved. I need some proof sir, said Constantine as he dug deeper into his computer. Jack got up and left without a word! Constantine did not even look up at him. He only smiled after the creaking noise of the door was made! Jack walked out of the compound. A man came running towards him. It was the director himself. Here! he said and handed him a cheque. He then put his hands on his knees and gasped for breath. Old man, he said and looked up at him. He adjusted his glasses and spoke. "The only memory I want in my deathbed is my wife and family," he said! The old man took his cheque and walked away simply without saying anything. Actually, he did utter a word. Bloody Russians! he said.