17 Thanks for trying

** Content note: Description of symptoms are purely fictional **

MP Kerry's death was all over the news. The peculiar circumstances, the unknown man she was with, the chaos of leaked information, it was the perfect fodder for a media storm. With little actual information and the mystery man on the run, speculations boil over.

"There are no charges raised against him," stressed the police chief on Sofie's screen, "but we urge the public to report any sightings and... please, do not approach him."

Sofie switched off the news. In all likelihood they were talking about Philip. And given what kind of chameleon he was, she did not know what to make of the circumstances. Maybe he and Ms. Hunt decided that for Sofie to expose Kerry's crimes would not go far enough or was too slow to stop the royal commission.

Maybe one of Kerry's other enemies murdered her at Elandra to add insult to injury. Philip might be an innocent bystander and the timing with the royal commission was pure coincidence.

Or the email breach was detected and someone was cleaning up, starting with MP Kerry before putting Philip and herself next on the hit list.

Sofie's blood ran cold. She knew how to handle herself, all she needed to do was execute her escape plan early. But it might look altogether different for Philip, whether he was innocent or not. For Philip's sake she hoped that Ms. Hunt would follow through with protecting him.

With a sigh, Sofie started packing her belongings. She was renting a furnished apartment and with hardly anything to pack, she would be out of here in an hour.

Was she being overcautious? Moving her life when she didn't even know whether the murder had anything to do with her. Perhaps. But better be safe than sorry.

Her eyes fell on her mobile. What if Philip was innocent and Ms. Hunt did not protect him? 'My company comes first', that's what she said to him. Who could he ask for help? Who would he call?

Forget him!

She had work to do. Kerry's death had removed the urgency from her original story, but there was something much more intriguing to write: was the death of the opposition leader somehow linked to Kerry's? Or did she paint a target on her back with that first murder and someone even more powerful and ruthless was seizing the opportunity? Was clearing the plate of all the established players and taking over?

Sofie put the last of her clothes into the suitcase. She folded the white sundress she wore that night in the meadow. It still smelled of grass and wildflowers and she could almost feel Philip's gentle hands on her hips guiding the rhythm.

Dammit!

If he was innocent, she could not just leave him out to fend for himself. Sofie called the camera's SIM card. It was a longshot, but if he was in danger and abandoned by Ms. Hunt's, he would have kept this lifeline open. It was how he had reached out to her last time.

It hardly rang twice before Philip's voice came on.

"Hello?" There was heavy traffic in the background and it was hard to hear his voice over the noise.

"Where are you?"

"Sofie, thank god." His voice sounded thick, and he formed his words slower. "There is not much battery left and I need your help."

"Why aren't you with Ms. Hunt?"

"She didn't… Sofie, I was there, when Kerry died! Jasmit… she…" his voice trailed off.

"She has no use for you anymore. You are no longer media-friendly, are you? If anything, you make Ms. Hunt look like a suspect."

"Yes…" he sniffed. Was he crying? "Sofie, I have no one else."

This was such bad acting. He had been more persuasive in his little meaningless pranks. This was so over the top that it smelled like a set up, and a bad one at that. Why was he trying to lure her into a trap?

"Why do I care?" she countered trying her best to sound convincing.

But who was she kidding? After all, she called him. At the very least, he could safely deduct that she cared.

"Sofie, there is something... wrong," he added, ignoring her reply.

"What do you mean 'wrong'? Wrong with what? You? I dare say so."

"I cannot…" he searched for the right word to describe the sensation, "...think."

Her snide sarcasm evaporated. He was serious.

"What else is wrong?"

"My arm is wet and everything is so … dark."

The sniffing wasn't from bad acting or because he was crying, his nose was running. And together with the localized sweating, restricted pupils and a lower blood flow to the brain, these were the early symptoms of nerve agent poisoning.

"How did MP Kerry die?" Sofie asked slowly to let the significance sink in.

"One minute she was fine... A headache... And then… she couldn't breath… And I… I couldn't help her."

"Did you notice a smell? Something unusual like Cinnamon?"

He fell silent. Sofie could hear his rugged breathing above the noise of the street.

"She smelled like … oranges?… ananas?"

MP Kerry did not die of a heart attack, she was murdered with Tabun. A nerve agent with a subtle fruity smell that stopped the breathing. It was used in the Iran–Iraq War and was banned by the Chemical Weapons Convention. Nowadays, it was a popular though highly prized assassination weapon; virtually untraceable and even minute quantities were deadly.

The assassin could handle Tabun without a mask, it was less volatile than other nerve agents. A drenched cloth wiped over the victims skin could kill almost instantly. And at lower doses would accumulate to become deadly within 2-4 hours. If she was right, Philip's life was in danger.

"Where are you?" Sofie could not keep the alarm out of her voice.

"I don't know… I think... I walked from Elandra."

Judging by the heavy traffic he must be near a motorway. Sofie pulled up the satellite map of Elandra's surroundings.

"What do you see?"

"Trees."

"C'mon, Philip, something unique? Anything you walked past? Or a sound you can hear?"

"I cannot remember…" his voice sounded tired, "Hold on… there's shouting… goal..."

"Goal? As in soccer? Ok, so there is a sports field nearby."

According to the map there were two sports grounds within walking distance from Elandra. One with patchy green turf the other bright green, obviously synthetic.

"Can you see the soccer field? What color is it?"

"I can't."

This was like pulling teeth. He must already be in a state of confusion to offer so little help.

"Can you walk there?"

She could hear him vomit. That was her answer. Judging by how fast he was deteriorating, he was lucky to still be alive by the time she arrived. If she found him at all.

"Philip, you need to go to the hospital. You are poisoned, like MP Kerry. Call the ambulance. They can triangulate your phone and find you better than I can. Hang up and..."

"No!… They'll get to me...." There was fear in his voice. "Sofie, please,... you are..."

'… my only hope', she completed his unfinished sentence in her head.

"I'll find you, Philip," she said, forcing her voice to sound calm and confident.

Once again, he put an unreasonable amount of faith in her abilities. And lucky for him it was, once again, not unfounded. Anyone in her line of work knew how to spot a nerve agent poisoning. Some even carried an emergency pen with the antidote. These autoinjectors were top-shelf black market commodities, directly from the army. Sofie did not have such funds or connections, she had to make due with the individual drugs. And she had them stocked just in case. But all of this did not matter if she could not reach Philip in time.

She searched the sports field closer to London for anything unique that could be seen from a distance.

"Do you see some sort of broadcasting tower? With lights on top?"

"No."

Her heart sank. If he was near the other field, he would be dead by the time she arrived. There were no direct roads from London.

"Wait… I see it… three red lights?"

"That's it! I'll be there in an hour. Hang in there, Philip. I'll check back in when I'm on my way."

She hung up, grabbing her medical kit and rushing out the door to one of the share-cars nearby. She was on the motorway out of London when she dialed Philips number again.

"Sofie?..." his voice was weak, "I called, but..."

"You cannot reach me, because my number…" she started before realizing that in his current state he would not understand a word she was saying. "Only I can call you. Don't worry, I'll be there soon. How are you going?"

"Don't... hang up again, I … I don't want to be... alone."

"Philip, I have to hang up. You said your battery is already drained. We need to preserve it for when I'm actually there. Otherwise I cannot find you. The sports ground is too large. You need to guide me on the phone. I'll be there in 20 minutes. I see you soon. OK?"

"Yes…" his voice sounded resigned. "Thank you... for trying… Sofie."

He knew he was dying and hanging up on him made Sofie's heart ache. But it was the right call, unfeeling and objective, and she was very good making those calls. She floored the gas pedal of the little hatchback and arrived at the sports ground 15 minutes later.

Jumping out of the car she dialed his number again. There was no answer. The phone kept ringing until Sofie heard his pre-recorded voice, "Please leave a message and I'll call you back." She tried again but the phone kept ringing out. This wasn't good.

He is unconscious or, worse, he might be …

She stopped herself from going there.

He said he could only see trees, so he must be in one of the woodlands surrounding the field. The whole area was vast and deserted. It was hard to believe that there had been a match going on when she spoke to Philip first. Unless... she was at the wrong place after all.

"Phillip," she shouted at the top of her lungs. But there was no answer, only the pitch black darkness of the forest.

Panic rose in her. She wasn't going to find him! There had been so little time left.

Not knowing what else to do she tried to phone again. This time, the line connected.

"Philip? Can you hear me?"

"Yes." It was a grunt, he must be in pain by now too.

"I am here, Philip! Where are you? Can you see the headlights of my car?"

"Look… to the… trees."

There were trees everywhere and Sofie realized he won't be able to guide her.

"Switch on the light of your phone and wave it."

She let her eyes glide over the dark treeline, searching for the small lightsource.

There!

Like a tiny glow worm dancing above the ground. It disappeared almost as soon as she'd spotted it and the line of the phone disconnected. The battery of his phone had died. But at least she had a rough direction. She sprinted towards the treeline.

A dark figure propped against a tree.

She found him.

But was she too late?