Act of War.

Free to go.

Again, not much. Again, am trying to be realistic. Next chapter. 

An hour later, outside the Waterville B&B.

"I knew you Brits liked to do things in a different way, but did you really hafta kill him?" asked Constable Henry whose sleep had been interrupted to come out to the scene of the crime.

Standing near the Garda Wagon, a padded horse drawn wagon with iron bars put into the wooden structure as windows that would house the criminal until he or she would arrive at the Station, Paul looked Constable Henry in the eyes. "I didn't kill him. I didn't want to kill him, if I had I'd have shot him earlier. He fell out."

"Fell? Huh. I'd say he thought he had wings. What exactly went on up there?"

''Constable Henry--"

"Henry."

"Henry, could I just fill the report out in the morning? It's late and I'm sure we all want to be back in bed about now."

"No need to fill a report out this time, I'll just gather the information right now and let you on your way. Should only take but a minute or so."

"Well, that is a most pleasant surprise."

He laughed and clapped him on the shoulder in a jovial manner. "Indeed it is,  laddie boy! Now, let's get on it. First, where's a light?" He looked around and walked towards the building where several people were watching. Paul didn't like being stared at, and they were probably thinking things in their minds making him the guilty one.

Constable Henry and Paul went in, then to the eating room where they sat. "So what do you want to know?"

"The standards. Start with an outline of what 'appened."

"I suppose he's connected to those who went at me today on the beach--"

"I read that report, one of the few that interested me. Sorry, go on." He waved his hand in the air for Paul to continue.

"I had a feeling they'd be after me tonight. The details would take more than that 'minute or so' you spoke of, so basically I hid, I waited, I heard him coming in and he went to my bedside to kill me and I leapt from where I hid and went at him, without a weapon in my hands, and tried but failed to disarm him. I drew my gun on him, told him to drop it--that being the knife-- and face the wall but he wouldn't. Soon enough, upon attempting another go at me, he crashed through the window."

He wrote it all down quickly upon his notepad. "Anything else?"

"Oh, yeah, I think I busted his nose with my fist."

"Heh. Nice one."

"Thanks..."

"Well, you're free to go unless you wish to add anything else."

He thought about telling him to take a closer look at Pammy, aka Mrs. Milly, and see if anything seemed off. He was certain that she had something to do with these attacks. Then he, for a moment, thought that maybe Constable Henry was in on it too. After all, he directed him here. But who knows. He erased that thought, the Constable was trust-worthy and honest.

He decided to not mention Mrs. Milly, so he said, "No, no, nothing else other than I won't be staying here much longer."

"I can see why you'd want to leave, your stay wasn't as pleasant as most visitors' are. I am sorry 'bout that, Paul."

He smiled, "Don't be sorry, it was fun and I made a new friend. Some day I intend to return on vacation, maybe then it won't be so dangerous." He laughed.

He laughed with him. "I'm glad you could find something here to enjoy and you're welcome back anytime. Who's your friend? Seems you wouldn't have had much time to go about the place."

"Why, you of course."

His face lit up, "Awww, thanks, laddie. That's real nice of you. I'm glad to know ya'."

Standing, Paul wished him a good night and returned to his room where he watched a few flash photos of the scene be taken then the body taken away. Tired, he doubted they'd try again. So, he went to bed.

-----------------------------------The next morning.-------

He awoke around ten a.m., the Sun was pouring in around the curtains as he rose up and rubbed his eyes. He'd slept in his clothes last night, and hadn't received the clothes that were supposed to be bought for him last night.

Looking towards the door, he saw on the dresser that they were finally delivered.  A tad bit late, but oh well. Better late than never. He dressed in a pair of black pants and a green shirt in a style he hadn't seen before. Basically, it was like a polo shirt in medium green. They had them back in England, but never had he seen one.

Finding the clothes comfortable, he stepped out the door, locking it with his room key upon leaving it. Downstairs two people were talking but stopped when  they saw him coming down the stairs. He paused, then continued down the steps and asked if breakfast was still available.

Soon, he was alone in the eating room, consuming a hot cup of tea and coffee-cake along with a couple slices of toast smothered in jam and an apple. Upon finishing this he left the building and walked down to the harbor.

A charter service was there. Boats and planes were both available here. "How can I help you?" a man asked, the fog was thin when he stepped into the plain building.

"Just wondering if any flights are available to England, or even a boat will do."

He looked behind him at a giant chalk board and read down it till he stopped and turned around. "A flight will be heading off ta' Dublin in a few hours. Dublin always has a boat going over to Liverpool."

"Can I have more information on the flight?"

"Sure, it'll be thirty quid and should take only a few hours. The plane's a good one,  has seats in it although it's mostly a cargo transport. Named it Ducky."

"Ducky?"

"Yep. Floats like a duck and looks like one somewhat."

This amused him, "Well I'll take it."

"You got a passaport?"

"Yes," He handed him it. The man then asked for the thirty quid which he presently gave him and he put that in a drawer then opened another and pulled out two stamps and an ink pad. Opening the passport he stamped it. Then he used the other stamp to hit a piece of paper and scribbled onto it the information about which plane this ticket was for. He slid it back to him. "Thank you, is that all?"

"Yep. All set. Be at the dock down there," he pointed, "at two O'clock. Give them the paper and show the passaport and you'll be all set. The plane's got green wings and a red engine atop."

He tried imagining the craft. But he hadn't seen one coming close to that description. "The aeroplane has an engine atop it?"

"Yessir. Has two others, too. One on each wing. Ducky's a good plane, hasn't ever been a problem with her."

"Alright, well thank you, sir. Enjoy your day."

"You also."

Paul left to gather his belongings and buy a bigger suit-case."

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