So my poor pet officer continues to harangue me. He wants no part of all this. He is weak. But I hope still useful to me.
But it is hard. God, it is.
Alex dug deeper just as I thought (hoped?) She would. She found the young me. The callow youth. The earnest woodentop. And I shot him. I shot myself. The first man ever to live through a successful suicide attempt! So all those time-travel theorists turn out to be a bunch of eejits. You meet yourself and time doesn’t fold in on itself. It’s not the end of the world.
But it was the oddest thing. I looked into his eyes and he was like a stranger to me. It wasn’t like meeting myself at all. It was like staring at a photo in an album. I realize now that it’s our memories that form us. Our life experiences. His experiences were so malformed. He had yet to go through what I went through just a week from now. The moment in time that changed everything for me. Made me the man I am today.
Operation Rose is coming. It is imminent.
But I worry that Alex is not focused. Gene Hunt leading her astray. Clouding her mind. I need her to focus. I need her to see what is important here. Which means pulling her away from him. It’ll be tricky. They are tied tighter than either of them know.
But I will do it.
My Team is assembled.
My vehicles ready.
The loss of the fire-arms are a set-back but they’ll be replaced soon enough.
My pet within Fenchurch, my poor DC Skelton, will have one last task to perform. A crucial task.
And then it’s time.
Cry havoc and let slip ....
The Rose will bloom.
And my mission will be accomplished.
Goods luck Alex.
I’m thinking of you.
Of us both.
Final journal entry of Martin Summers.
She stirred in her sleep. I was standing by the door. It's so easy to get in these days. She doesn't suspect. She turned and brushed at her face and she said "Molly". She says the name of her daughter a lot. That's understandable. What's sad is that I’m not sure she will ever see Molly again. Not in this life.
What does that even mean?
My pet on the inside tried to reach me. That's a very hard thing to do. I got the message via one of My Team. My pet wants out. He's wanted out for a long time. He's scared. He feels shabby about himself. I can relate to that. All too well. I quietened him down, put his mind at ease. There really is so little time left until Operation Rose. And there's really only a little more I require of him. After that my pet is free to roam. With his conscience by his side.
Alex and Hunt are quite the dynamic duo. I'm impressed. I suspect that Alex is going to take advantage of my silence to dig deeper on me. She will get closer. Perhaps when she does she will fully understand the magnitude of what I am trying to do. I am literally making the cosmos turn for my benefit! How about that?! Not bad for a skinny lad from Wicklow.
And if Alex can see what I'm actually trying to do .. will she be able to stop me? Can anyone really stop me?
Do I really want them to?
She says another name in her sleep. "Gene."
The look on Alex's face when I walked in to the station. Bold as bloody brass! The colour draining from her face. She looked half-dead. And she probably is.
I knew that asking her to join me was probably laying too much on her plate in one go. Too much fine food for that delicate constitution. I'm not surprised she rebuffed me. But only for now, I'm sure. Let her sleep on it.
I have watched her sleep.
I have stood and watched.
I can do this without her. Operation Rose will reach its conclusion. Will find its raison d'etre if you pardon my ruddy French. But how much easier things would be with Alex Drake by my side.
Yes, I have fantasies. I'm still a man.
Took charge of the vehicles today. It was tricky. I needed a diversion. Phoned my man on the inside at Fenchurch East. My pet. He managed to "lose" the dockets that would have traced the vehicles back to me and my team.
I have a Team now. Feel quite the big man.
Not long to go.
I'm sorry for you Alex. If you can't finally understand what I'm trying to do then I'm sorry for you.
Mac is dead.
He was out of control. He couldn't maintain it like he once did. Hunt had him on the ropes and he was too stupid and arrogant to notice it. But nothing has changed. Operation Rose still exists. Of course! So much bigger than one greedy, stupid Superintendent in a Moss Bros suit. Supermac. Supersized eejit. Good riddance.
Hunt is a force of nature, to be admired and feared and ultimately destroyed. Alex is the real brains. She's forensic and she never lets up. In the end I think it was Alex who brought Mac down. I think I love her for that. It's time to pay her a visit ....
Why am I keeping this journal? A metaphysical diary written with a metaphysical Corona typewriter in a metaphysical flat in metaphysical East London.
You know, I'm not even sure what "metaphysical" means. Will have to look it up.
When did I really begin to suspect that this world could be real? When a sparrow landed on my window ledge and pecked the woodlice from under my sill. But that wasn't it. I noticed a little tuft of feathers missing from the bird's back. And I thought, "Martin, how can this level of detail exist in a bloody dream?!"
He was a big help to me, that wee sparrow. Because I felt so lost and alone. And so frightened. Was I dead? Was I mad? Was I dreaming in a hospital bed somewhere far away? Am I the first to ever experience this?
Well, today I know for sure that I’m not the first. Alex Drake is in here with me.
DI Alex Drake of Fenchurch East CID. But formally of ...? Do I dare hope?
Don’t think Martin! Type!!!!! Blood through the fingers. My blood. I must get in contact with her. I must tell her my plan. I must introduce her to Operation Rose. She's very beautiful.
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