Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller Read Online Free PDF

to find myself.’
    ‘Right.’ She nodded slowly. ‘I remember you talking about this. Something about not being content.’
    Col shook his head. ‘No, no, I’m content now, but ignorant.’
    ‘How will you rectify that?’
    He laughed. ‘I was hoping you could help me.’
    * * * * *
     
    Zen slept.
    His alarm was set for six a.m.
    His sleep was deep and peaceful.
    A perfect sleep...
     
    At six a.m. the hitman kicked the bedroom door open, the same time that Chris Rea’s The Road to Hell kicked in on Zen’s hi-fi. He opened his eyes, flicked back the duvet and double-tapped the trigger. The hitman’s eyes spoke of self-betrayal as he slid down the wall, thought Zen. Misplaced confidence.

 
     
    6
     
    The figure meditating in Richmond Park was dressed head to toe in white. The sun hurt John-Paul’s eyes as he watched him. He headed for the centre of the otherwise-deserted field...
    ‘Mind if I join you?’ he said, sitting down.
    ‘No.’
    ‘How are you?’
    ‘Silence for ten minutes.’
    John-Paul stared at Zen, whose eyes were loosely closed, with legs crossed, hands in his lap and back perfectly straight. The sun shone fiercely in September, yet Zen did not appear to be sweating. His breathing was deep and rhythmic. While John-Paul waited, Zen kept his posture correct - not a single movement other than the rise and fall of his chest…
    ‘John-Paul,’ Zen acknowledged and then slowly opened his eyes.
    ‘Feel better?’ John-Paul asked, his blue eyes squinting and his blond curls already damp.
    ‘It is the most beautiful thing to be detached from the world. To experience inner peace.’ Zen’s eyes bore into John-Paul’s. ‘Truly wonderful.’
    ‘Perhaps you should do it permanently then.’
    Zen laughed. ‘You misunderstand - the practice of resting your mind.’
    ‘That’s because you have too many bad thoughts.’
    ‘Maybe, but at least I’m addressing the problem. No uniform today?’
    ‘It’s my day off,’ John-Paul replied.
    ‘You deserve it. A fortnight spent planning a murder takes it out of you. More so when it fails. Did your employer authorise it?’
    John-Paul smiled. ‘You sleep okay with a gun in your hand?’ he asked.
    ‘Fine.’
    Tears of sweat had formed around John-Paul’s eyes. ‘You ever able to relax, Zen?’
    ‘All the time.’
    ‘So if you had no enemies, your life would be the same?’
    ‘No, I wouldn’t feel fulfilled,’ countered Zen. ‘My purpose attracts enemies. It’s a drawback.’
    ‘One you’re happy with?’
    Zen maintained eye contact. ‘It helps me.’
    John-Paul shook his head in pity and looked at the grass, noticing how green it was. ‘You’re one sick motherfucker,’ he said.
    ‘How’s Jenny?’ Zen asked.
    John-Paul rolled a blade of grass in his fingers. ‘She’s fine. I’ll tell her you asked.’
    ‘Please do.’
    ‘You got any friends, Zen?’
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘That bother you?’
    ‘I’d make them if it did.’
    ‘Never lonely?’
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘Because you enjoy your own company?’ John-Paul ventured.
    ‘I enjoy trust.’
    ‘That’s a good quality.’
    Zen arched back his neck and inhaled deeply. ‘And a rare one.’
    John-Paul narrowed his eyes. ‘What happens when you’re wrong, Zen? I mean a misguided opinion, judgement...course of action?’
    ‘Someone suffers,’ Zen hissed.
    ‘Regardless of their innocence?’
    ‘We all lose it.’
    John-Paul sighed, ripped out a clump of grass and let it fall through his open fingers. ‘Not caring if you’re wrong is not your main problem, Zen. You don’t know if you’re wrong. You’ve developed total self-security.’
    Zen smiled. ‘Thank you.’
    Disgust crept into John-Paul’s tone: ‘No one to confide in, no one to criticise you, compliment you, or inspire you. You’re entire life is contained inside your own head. That’s very sad.’
    ‘You pity what you also fear,’ Zen responded. ‘That’s very weak.’ He inched closer. ‘Last time we met, you