“But…” Marlon said in disbelief. “As soon as that fucking Buckingham stopped answering his phone I got on that plane!”
“They have already moved on.”
“On?”
“Further into… the Regeneration.”
“What the hell?”
What is he talking about?
“Marlon, if you did manage to find Max… and kill him – which I have no doubt you could do, knowing the kind of man you are…
Is that supposed to be a compliment?
“You would only turn him into a martyr. And that would be even worse for your people.”
But… martyrs are a dime a dozen!
“Death is a great accelerant! It inflames ideas! Would Joan of Arc have become famous if she hadn’t been burned on the stake?”
“Joan who?”
“Marlon… Max as a martyr would only accelerate the process.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Marlon said gruffly.
“What do you mean?”
“Better a dead martyr than a live problem.”
Singh smiled, patronizingly –
“No… I don’t think so. Not if you don’t want a war on your hands.”
“Come on Singh, this is just chicken-shit! There’s no war in this!”
Singh sighed, deeply.
“Marlon my old friend,” he said gently. “Please listen to me… it’s time to move on.”
“No!” Marlon exploded. “I still have… things to do!”
“Please Marlon move on, move on with your life.”
No! Fuck it!
You are Marlon Sands!
Nobody tells you to move on!
“Why should I?”
“Because you can do no more here.”
“But I haven’t done anything yet! You don’t understand – I’m here with the authority of the President of the United States of America! My time has just begun! I’m here to save the American Dream!”
Singh laughed quietly.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “The American dream is already dead. Sadly, it was dead before it even arrived in India.”