Fighting Pax

A murmur of sneering distaste rippled round the table.

The General continued. Many major cities were being abandoned. Satellite images disclosed streets empty of traffic as people sought a more rural, simpler existence to match the one in the book that they believed to be their true lives. Fires were raging out of control in Sydney, Berlin and Tokyo, while pollution clouds over Chinese factories producing components for iPads and Samsung tablets had increased to extremely toxic levels. In spite of the global desire to live medieval, Mooncaster-themed lives, the production of such electronic devices was at a record high. Of more immediate concern, however, was the fact that more and more footage of unnatural creatures was coming to light on CCTV across the world.

Flame-throwers and chemicals were being deployed near the border with South Korea to sterilise the ground so that the minchet plant could not take root and citizens had been commanded to be vigilant. Any sighting of the invasive shrub had to be reported immediately. They were forbidden to approach it themselves.

Gerald’s concentration wandered. It was pretty much the same report as last week and the week before that. He wasn’t sure why he was required at these meetings. They never asked his opinion on anything. He gazed distractedly about the table and pined wistfully for a tall gin and tonic.

Marshal Tark Hyun-ki hadn’t taken any notice of Martin’s tirade. The Shark sat there with his face turned resolutely aside, palms down on his briefcase. Gerald couldn’t begin to guess how much blood was on those hands. He suspected that man had overseen the torture of many. Brutality was graven into his face, with its cruel, downturned mouth, framed by deep creases. It was a blessing those pitiless eyes were concealed behind sunglasses. He was too sinister to be given any name from The Mikado, even ‘the Lord High Executioner’ wasn’t adequate, as that was a comic role and the Shark was anything but funny.

Gerald’s attention shifted to the young aide.

Gerald’s people radar was highly developed. Not much got past him; he could read the intricacies and dynamics of strangers’ relationships with just a few moments’ study. People interested him; his talent for observation had been put to expert use during his former career as an entertainer and then as the proprietor of the most select guesthouse in Felixstowe. He knew the main reason Eun-mi pushed herself so hard was to earn her father’s admiration and he also knew that she would always be disappointed. The General favoured his younger daughter, Nabi, over her and the more Eun-mi tried to get him to notice her, the more he found to praise in her sister. Family troubles were the same the world over.

For some time now Gerald had been perfectly aware of Du Kwan’s feelings towards Eun-mi, and that it was a futile infatuation. But now, suddenly, that granite maiden had noticed Kwan, and Gerald was fascinated to see the bloom on her cheek and how often her eyes flicked back across the table.

“Here’s a pretty how-de-do,” he told himself. “This is a story that can only end in tears.” But his estimation of Eun-mi thawed a little. She wasn’t just a robot of the party; there was a flicker of human feeling in there after all.

With a final disparaging word about the progress of the full-scale replica of the White Castle of Mooncaster that was being built in England, General Chung Kang-dae came to the end of his report and the Chief of the General Staff bowed to Doctor Choe Soo-jin.

The doctor rose from her seat.

“Medical analysis of juvenile group now complete,” Eun-mi translated. “Or complete as possible within restriction. When arrive, health poor, malnutrition. Physical and mental stress level high, test result not reliable not consistent. Good diet, good rest, thanks to generosity of Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, they improve. Now final result ready.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Martin said impatiently. “This phenomenon isn’t something you can explain away with science. You can’t point a microscope at it and understand what’s going on. Don’t you think others haven’t tried? Every country I’ve been in since this thing started has had their top people on it, with better technology, better scientists than you have here! They found nothing because this is bigger… it’s older than that.”

The doctor ignored him as she consulted her notes.

“It my conclusion,” she declared, “nothing unique in any aberrant. Abnormality in blood – none. Immunology studies say no antigens present.”

“Ha!” Martin said.

The doctor carried on as if he wasn’t there.

“DNA profile: chromosomal analyses inconclusive. Cannot rule out they carry homozygous recessive trait, need more positive control tissue samples. Neural activity, cognition, ECG – also inconclusive and compare to People’s Army subject volunteer test group. Nothing to suggest medical reason for resistance to influence of book. None I can find, under restriction. Further examination of immunity not possible under restriction. Search for viable vaccine against book influence therefore not possible under restriction.”

The Generals and Marshals muttered in disappointment while Martin and Gerald wondered what on earth she meant by “under restriction”. What restriction?

“Male subject sixteen year, Lee Charl,” she continued. “Subject continue experience nightmare, but it normal and consistent with psychological trauma. No biological reason for remarkable ability. Further study necessary. Most strongly recommend lifting of restriction only way forward.”

She looked directly at Eun-mi and told her to stop translating. Then she made a direct appeal to the Chief of the General Staff.

“What was that?” Martin asked when nothing was repeated in English. “What did she say?” He hated it when they shut him out like this.

“Business of state,” Eun-mi had been instructed to reply and she did it with cold finality and controlled relish.

Gerald regarded her. The stony mask was back in place, but he thought he had marked the slightest tremble in her eye when the doctor said a certain word and then when the Chief of the General Staff said it again. He made a mental note of it and wondered what they were talking about. Doctor Choe was beginning to lose her cool, professional manner. It was turning into a bit of an argument. The Chief of the General Staff was refusing to agree to her request and she was brandishing her notes at him in frustration.

Presently he slapped the table and practically screamed at her. The doctor collected herself and sat down, defeated.

Martin and Gerald exchanged glances. Whatever she had been insisting upon, they were relieved it had been rejected.

But now Du Kwan had been invited to speak.

The young aide rose and bowed. With a hesitant, secret smile in Eun-mi’s direction, he explained that Marshal Tark Hyun-ki had been making a nine-day tour of inspection in the three provinces divided by the demilitarised zone. He had also overseen the destruction of the incursion tunnels leading to South Korea that were excavated by the People’s Army underneath the border during the 1970s.

“People near zone are afraid,” Du Kwan said. “They hear of monsters breaching fences. They hear of farmers finding book out in fields and whole families fall under its spell.”

“Is this true?” the Chief of the General Staff asked.

The young man bowed. “Soldiers of Marshal Tark Hyun-ki discover seven farms where families think they live in fairy-tale land. Marshal Tark Hyun-ki order families shot. They no in fairy tale now.”

The Chief of the General Staff nodded with satisfaction. Martin and Gerald turned away.

“Border guards also need be shot,” the aide continued. “Many loudspeakers across checkpoints; many bad Korean brothers and sisters read from book beyond fences. Border guards, they listen and believe in fairy tale. They shoot at soldiers of Marshal Tark Hyun-ki. We lose twelve men in battle. Now new guards at checkpoints wear ear defenders. Reinforcements needed. Marshal Tark Hyun-ki demand three thousand men go to south with tanks.”

The Chief of the General Staff laced his fingers together and considered this.

“Marshal Tark Hyun-ki also find monster,” Du Kwan added quickly. “Spider big as dog making nest in thorn tree. Marshal Tark Hyun-ki shoot and kill. Marshal Tark Hyun-ki most brave.”

“Where is spider?” Doctor Choe asked. “Why you not bring here?”

Du Kwan bowed to her. “Monster on way to medical centre,” he explained. “Marshal Tark Hyun-ki gave order when we arrive.”

The doctor wrote something at the top of a sheet of paper. An examination of this creature could be invaluable. She wanted to race off now and start working on it.

Du Kwan was about to say something more when the Shark stirred at his side. The young man turned to him in some surprise. It wasn’t like the Marshal to speak to him during one of these meetings. Everything that was to be said was planned in advance. The aide listened to a whispered command then sat down sharply.

The mirrored shades of Marshal Tark Hyun-ki reflected everyone around the table as he shifted to address them.

In the locked darkness of a steel box, inside a metal vault, behind one of those forbidden doors of the medical centre, a pale amber glow began to glimmer. A pulse of light flared within the star on Malinda’s wand.

“Gangle not all I find,” the Marshal announced, removing his palms from the briefcase and flicking the catches open. “I find also – blessed truth.”

Reaching inside, he brought out a book covered in plain green paper. With an expression of ecstasy on his face, he began to read aloud from it and rocked backwards and forwards in his chair.

“Beyond the Silvering Sea,” Eun-mi translated, puzzled by his actions.

Martin and Gerald sprang up.

“Stop him!” Martin yelled. He threw himself across the table and tried to snatch the book out of the Shark’s hands. But the Marshal slid sideways out of the chair and carried on reading.

The other Generals had leaped up and were shouting in fear and confusion. Suddenly the room was full of noise as four shots exploded. Marshal Tark Hyun-ki was catapulted backwards in a grotesque ballet as the bullets ripped through him. Three in the head, one through the heart. He was dead before he crashed to the floor and his mirrored sunglasses went skittering across the carpet.

Everyone’s ears were ringing. The gunshots were deafening. Gerald looked away from the Shark’s body and down the table. Pistol in hand, General Chung Kang-dae stared dispassionately at what he had done. Then he turned to the young aide.

Du Kwan was stammering with shock. A speckled mist of the Marshal’s blood was sprayed across his face. He raised his eyes, aghast. Then he saw how everyone was looking at him.

“I… I did not know!!” he protested. “Marshal Tark Hyun-ki said nothing of this to me – I swear it. I did not know. I have not read the book! I swear – I swear!”

“What are you doing?” Martin cried when he saw General Chung’s grim face. “The lad hasn’t been affected. Look at his eyes. They’re normal! He’s not a Jaxer!”

He rounded on Eun-mi and begged her to translate. The girl wavered. Then she hurriedly beseeched her father to listen.

The pistol fired two more bullets and the handsome young man joined the Marshal on the floor.

Eun-mi gave a horrified gasp.

“Animal!” Martin bawled at the General. “That poor lad was one of us! He wasn’t any threat. You just murdered an innocent boy!”

General Chung didn’t understand what he said. He merely smiled and gave a little bow as he returned the pistol to its holster.

The meeting was over. A short while later, an ashen-faced Eun-mi drove Gerald and Martin back to their section.

“They’re all innocent, Martin,” Gerald reminded him gently. “Don’t forget that. Even the Shark, vile devil though he was, wasn’t responsible once the book got hold of him. If you start thinking the Jaxers are anything but victims then what does that make you? Think of Carol and Paul: they’re innocent too.”

Martin Baxter said nothing. He was sick to the stomach by what had just happened, but there was something more. Gerald’s words had touched upon a very raw nerve and he couldn’t think about it right now.

Back in the meeting room, the Chief of the General Staff had just taken a phone call. The entire meeting had been transmitted via webcam to the palace in Pyongyang. The order from the Supreme Leader was very plain.

“Tell Doctor Choe Soo-jin the restriction is lifted – with immediate effect.”

4

LEE WAS IN the refectory that also served as the refugees’ common room. He was sitting at one of the long tables, with his feet up. The four guards he was chained to stood stiffly either side. It was the Spice Girls, four young men in their early twenties. They had taken over from the Sex and the City quartet under an hour ago.

Many of the other children were there, because their dorms were small and cell-like and unheated. Here there was a wood-burning stove, but the logs were rationed and their daily allocation lasted only about four hours.

The children were wrapped in rough blankets or oversized military greatcoats. Having escaped from the prison camp in England with nothing but the rags they had on, they now wore clothing generously donated by the People’s Army and looked like the destitute outcasts that they were. Most days they sat, clumped together in small groups, either playing the Korean board games also given to them by the military or whispering among themselves.

Maggie was a dab hand with a needle and thread, so Gerald miraculously scrounged the rudiments of a basic sewing kit for her, including a small pair of scissors. She happily filled her hours adapting the cast-off uniforms, cutting them down for a snugger fit or turning them into completely different garments. Spencer’s Stetson had been confiscated as being too strong a symbol of the US, so she had made him a cowboy-style waistcoat with a star on it like a sheriff’s badge to compensate.

She paid special attention to the group of girls who had been in Charm’s hut back in the camp. Her late friend had asked her to look out for them so she made sure their requests were dealt with first. Western dress was forbidden in North Korea so the guards raised their eyebrows at the home-made fashions. It was the closest Maggie ever got to making them smile. With the remnants, she created small dolls and animals, initially to keep herself occupied in between alterations and to put around the dorm and refectory to cheer the place up. But they turned out so well every girl wanted one, except Esther who said they were “fugly”.

That afternoon Maggie sat across from Lee, stitching eyes on to a bear with coloured thread. It was a gift for little Nabi, who spent as much time as she could in the company of the English aberrants. Maggie found it hard to believe she was Eun-mi’s sister. The two were poles apart. Six-year-old Nabi was a lively, excitable, curious child whose laughter could be heard ricocheting down the long, bleak corridors. Her raven hair was tied in bunches and her face was almost always scrunched up in a toothy grin that swallowed her almond eyes. She was nearly too cute at times and Maggie jokingly suggested Nabi had slid off one of the chocolate-boxy propaganda posters.

The six-year-old was besotted with Lee. He was something new and amazing to her. Black people were extremely rare in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, usually embassy staff and diplomats who lived separately in gated communities. They had all been ejected from the country many months ago, so she had never seen anyone like him before. For the first few weeks she’d followed him around with an open mouth and bulging eyes. When he touched something, like a door, or set a cup down, she would pounce and inspect it to see if his colour came off. To begin with he yelled and roared at her and she would run and hide like a terrified hamster. But, eventually, she would come stealing back for more and gaze at him with those bright, worshipping eyes.

Even though he was still numb with grief and raging against his chains, Lee found it impossible to take his anger out on Nabi. He knew exactly what Charm would do if she was still alive. She would have befriended and loved the child and so he tolerated her.

That morning she was sitting next to Maggie, watching the bear take shape and insisting it look fiercer by making savage faces and growling. Her English consisted of the few words and nursery rhymes Gerald had taught her and several other pieces of choice language that she had picked up from Lee, which always scandalised her sister, if her vocabulary stretched that far. Then there was that infamous occasion when Nabi had squealed, tunelessly, in front of their father, “I see you, baby, shakin’ that ass, shakin’ that ass.” For three weeks after that she was forbidden to visit the refugees, but had finally managed to bring the General around, as she always did.

Outside the refectory, in the long, gloomy corridor painted a bilious green that was blistered and peeling, Spencer waited for Martin and Gerald to return. There was nothing else to do; besides, he liked being on his own. In this place there was little privacy. The dorms were smaller and more cramped than the huts in the camp had been and the toilet facilities were basic and communal.

He scuffed the worn heel of his shabby shoes across the concrete floor and the sound went echoing eerily up and down. Five small dorms, the refectory, the shared bathroom, the stone steps to the terrace and Lee’s hospital room were accessed by this broad yet claustrophobic passage. Further on it turned a sharp right corner into the prohibited area with the mysterious doors they weren’t allowed to enter.

Spencer glanced towards that corner and squinted at the armed soldier standing rigidly still there. It was impossible to be alone anywhere here. If it wasn’t the guards, it was the other children, or visits from that overzealous, pushy doctor wanting to do more tests. The boy craved a bit of solitude. He yearned for the desolate stretches of sand dunes in his home town of Southport and missed the lonely walks he used to take there out of season, when he could roam all day and not meet another soul. Everything about this place was so oppressive, at times it made him breathless. It wasn’t just the joyless regime and the fear of what lay ahead, but the mountain itself. He tried not to think about the millions of tonnes of rock that surrounded him, but was constantly aware of them and could almost feel them pressing down.

He would often lie awake in his bunk, listening to the distant noises of the base and the eerie sound of the air coursing through the vents and tunnels. If the main entrance was open, and the wind came squalling in, it howled through the connecting passageways. When other unknown and distant doors were unbolted, it could be like the whispering of ghosts. Spencer wondered how frequent earth tremors were in this part of the world. One slight judder would be cataclysmic and the mountain would come crushing down. When he did sleep, it was fitful and shallow and the faintest creak or scratching of mice caused him to lurch awake.

Unlike the other refugees, he didn’t call this place Titipu. Instead he preferred ‘the Hole-in-the-Wall’ after the Wild West hideout of outlaws. But that didn’t help much. Passing a hand over his bare head, he tried to suppress the anxiety he could feel rising in his chest. The loss of his Stetson had been like a kick in the gut. It was his comfort object and he felt bereft without it. In the camp, when the Punchinello with the silver nose had swiped it from him, at least Spencer knew where it was. These people had probably burned it and that likelihood distressed him deeply. Maggie had been extremely sympathetic, but the waistcoat she had made was no substitute for his beloved hat, although he secretly liked it when Lee called him “Sheriff Woody”.

Spencer turned his unhappy face to the other end of the corridor, where it opened out on to one of the main tunnels. Digging his cold hands into his pockets, he leaned against the rocky wall and waited.

“It really Christmas already?” Lee asked, back in the refectory.

“At the end of the week,” Maggie answered. She had been telling him Gerald’s plans for the choir.

“Dunno how or why you bother keepin’ track. Ain’t no point no more.”

“I bother because it helps,” she said.

“One day’s like every other in this dump. Could be Pancake Tuesday for all the difference it makes. Those things mean nuthin’ now. Sooner you stop pretendin’ they does, the better.”

Maggie didn’t let him nettle her. She had got used to his attitude and temper. After all this time, they were like background noise, but he was getting worse and not many of the others talked to him any more. Today he was particularly volatile and ready to kick off. She didn’t know the details of his nightmare, he never shared them with anyone but the doctor, but everyone could hear his screams.

“Gerald says he makes fantastic mince pies,” she rattled on, “with chocolate in. They must be gorgeous. Suppose it’ll be same old kimchi and rice or noodles here on the day.”

Nabi’s ears pricked up. “Kimchi!” she repeated, patting her stomach and nodding. “Good yum.”

Lee curled his lip at her and she squirmed with pleasure.

“Long as it’s not no more of those thin spicy soups,” he grumbled. “Thought we’d done with that kinda slop when we left the camp.”

“Don’t suppose I’ll ever so much as sniff another roast potato,” Maggie said mournfully.

“Girl, you ain’t never gonna do a whole mess of things again. This, right here, this is your life now, till the Jaxers catch up with us – and that can’t be far off. After that, you won’t have no life no more. Think they’re gonna keep you as a pet or somethin’? The lot of you’ll be lined up against the wall and be a bullet buffet.”

“‘The First Noel’,” she declared, switching back to the subject of the choir. “That’s my favourite carol. I’d rather sing that old Slade song though. Bit too obvious what they’re about I suppose, so we probably won’t be singing either of them. What’s yours? You must have one, even if you won’t join in with the Wenceslassing.”

He threw her a disbelieving ‘WTF?’ glance. “You think you pierced my brain when you did my ear?” he snapped. “I ain’t forgot the last time we sang ‘Silent Night’, over the grave of that crazy kid Jim, who thought he was a superhero and got himself stuck in the guts. Have you?”

“Ah, of course – his name was Jim. Poor lad.”

“And there’s no way I’m ever gonna forget what that Ismus guy wants outta me. Don’t you remember what he said when you, me and Spence went to Mooncaster that time? I do not want to hear no songs about no towns in Bethlehem or herald angels bein’ noisy in the neighbourhood and I specially don’t wanna hear nuthin’ about no shepherds. You got that? I am gonna be spending that entire day hooked up to my bleepy machines in my hospital bed – Scroogin’ it large.”

Maggie had forgotten nothing about that, how could she? But she had hoped he’d stopped brooding by now. She was wrong. That time when Lee had accidentally dragged her and Spencer to that other fantastical realm, the Ismus had proposed a disgusting bargain that she had never been able to get her head around. That evil man had promised Lee could be reunited with Charm, there in Mooncaster, but only if the boy did something for him, only if he killed someone – someone very special.

“That was just mad talk,” she said with a frown and a shrug. “He was screwing with your head. I don’t believe it; it isn’t possible. There’s no way she can come back, not even there. You know what he’s like, all filthy lies and nastiness. What he says eats at you because that’s what it’s meant to do. Best to shut it away and not think about it – ever. Drive you nuts that will.”

Lee swung his feet off the table and pushed his chair away. Not think about it? It was the only thing that kept his heart beating throughout the day, and what fuelled his nightmares. He gave his chains a sharp tug and one of the attached guards blurted an angry protest. If he hadn’t been tethered in this way, Lee would have returned to Mooncaster long ago. His mind was made up. He was going to accept the Ismus’s obscene offer. He would do anything to have Charm back in his life, even if it meant spending the rest of their days in that extreme world of castles and monsters. He had to be with her.

He was about to leave when the door opened and Spencer entered. His spectacles misted over as they encountered the warmer air. Some of the girls sniggered idly.

“Er… Martin and Gerald are back,” he announced, wiping the lenses. “The jeep’s just pulled in.”

“Woohoo,” Lee uttered woodenly. “Break out the Pringles and party dips.”

“Ohhh… Pringles,” Maggie breathed dreamily.

The other children stopped what they were doing and faced the door. Those weekly meetings were their only source of outside news and they looked forward to them with an intense mix of curiosity and dread.

“They don’t seem happy,” Spencer warned everyone.

“When is Baxter ever happy?” Lee asked. “He gets off peddlin’ the-end-is-nigh stuff.”

“Shh,” Maggie hissed.

The door opened again and the two men came in. A shocked murmur escaped the children’s lips. Spencer’s warning had been a huge understatement. They looked terrible. Maggie rose and tried to take Gerald’s hand, but he said he was fine and eased himself on to a chair. It was the first time he had looked his age. Little Nabi pattered over and rested her head on his arm.

Perching on the edge of a table, Martin considered what to tell them. There was no point concealing what had happened and these kids had been through too much already not to know the truth.

“No easy way of saying this,” he began solemnly. “And maybe I should wait till you’re all here, but you’ve a right to be told straight away. Now I don’t want to alarm you…”

“Spit it, Baxter,” Lee heckled. “You ain’t on TV now, no need to milk your moment. Get to the point.”

“One of the Marshals, Tark Hyun-ki, had been turned,” Martin continued. “He started reading from it in the meeting.”

The children uttered cries of dismay. They all knew exactly what ‘it’ was and they also knew this day was inevitable, but it was still an appalling jolt.

“Oh, game over!” Lee snorted with a twisted grin. “Why’d it take so long?”

“What about the others in the meeting?” Maggie asked. “Are they Jaxers now as well?”

Martin shook his head. “The Marshal was shot, killed before he could turn anyone else.”

“What?” Lee roared in disbelief. “You know better than that! It don’t take more than a few lines to sucker some people in. You, me, we both seen that happen.”

“No one else was affected,” Martin repeated firmly.

“You is talking pure, unrefined, steamin’ straight from the sphincter BS and you know it!” the boy countered. “This is how it starts. Every damn time! Them words is in this base now. No way that guy was the only one. It’s gonna be all round this place like the flu, come tomorrow. You can say goodbye to playing hide-and-seek. We been busted and that Ismus is gonna be poncin’ through this ass end of nowhere any day, rubbin’ his greasy mitts together.”

“There is no immediate danger of that happening!” Martin stated, raising his voice. “This facility is still the safest place for us and will continue to be defended for some time.”

Lee jumped to his feet. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Listen to you!” he shouted. “Who does you think you is? You don’t have no special handle on this. You know nuthin’! You is nuthin’!”

“Sit down!” Martin told him.

“What? You don’t get to order me around, Baxter. You ain’t in no classroom no more and you sure as hell ain’t the boss of me. I’m outta here – can’t stand the stink of stoopid in the morning.”

He yanked on the chains and the guards marched with him to the door.

Martin ground his teeth. That lad was impossible. He took a calming breath, but, as Lee left the room, he heard him growl the word “Loser” and Martin boiled over.

Racing into the corridor after him, he surprised the four guards when he grabbed hold of Lee’s shoulders and pushed him against the wall. The Koreans shouted and brandished their rifles to make him back off, but Martin was so incensed he didn’t hear them.

Lee yelled fiercely and lunged at him, but the chains stopped his fists flying. It took all four guards to restrain him.

“Touch me again and you’re dead, Baxter!” the boy raged, kicking out.

“What is your problem?” Martin shouted. “From the minute we met you’ve done nothing but antagonise and undermine me. So you’ve had it rough. Big deal. There’s not one of us who hasn’t. What makes you different, what makes you so special?”

Lee raised his hands and rattled the chains, almost proudly. “Is you dumb or what, Mr Maths Teacher?” he sneered. “These make me special. I’m the Castle Creeper – I’m the most special and coolest thing there is.”

A slow, mocking grin appeared on his face. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what this is about, ain’t it? You can’t stand that you’re just another nobody now. All that TV you used to do, telling the world how bad that book is, all them shrill blogs and runnin’ from country to country, tweetin’ and preachin’ – pushin’ your own brand of panic an’ drama at anyone who’d listen. Thinkin’ you’re the leader of some sort of resistance, what a joke!”

“Oh, you really are a piece of work,” Martin growled in disgust. “You make me sick. And to think, at first, I couldn’t wait to meet you. You were going to be the answer to this madness. I honestly believed you were going to turn it around. Well, more fool me!”