The King is Dead

And then there was another explosion, and another. And still another.

And another...

They had no consciousness of time.

Eventually the smoke pall drifted clear, and the debris sank and vanished.

And a sheet of flame stood out of the sea from one end of what had been Bendigo Island to the other. The entire island was burning — the ruins of the exploded buildings, the trees, the roads, the very sands. When it should burn itself out, in the course of days, or weeks, there would be nothing left but a flat black cinder on the surface of the sea.

Ellery turned, and Abel Bendigo turned, and their glances met. And Abel’s glance seemed to say: Trust me.

Ellery’s remained opaque. He was deeply troubled.

But the Inspector said with bitterness, aloud: “And what difference will this make? Nothing has changed. It’s one king or another!”

“Something has changed,” said Abel.

“Yes? What?”

“It’s me now, not him.”

“And will that make a difference?” cried the Inspector.

“Yes. There’s nothing wrong with power. The world needs power. The world needs power more today than ever before in history. Enlightened power — if you won’t laugh. Power directed toward the good. Instead of the other way.” Abel spoke awkwardly. His eyes were on the flames now.

“Do you think I believe that?” said the Inspector scornfully. “That the leopard can change his spots? You were in it up to your neck for twenty-seven years.”

“My brother always spoke to me of a dream he had,” murmured Abel. “A dream of a glorious world, a dream that could come true only if power were absolute. I believed his dream. I convinced myself that the end justified the means.”

Abel stared at the flames, one hand over Judah’s on the rail, the other over Karla’s. “But then I discovered that my brother was a liar and a cheat and that there was no good in him at all. And I saw how a man can fool others with ‘ends’ while he plays with rotten means. Because, when you get right down to it, no end is worth a damn that isn’t the sum total of all the means used to reach it. And I knew that if the power ever passed into my hands, I’d use it differently. And Judah and Karla,” he pressed their hands, “agreed with me.”

Abel turned then and glanced up at the bridge.

He raised his arm.

The seas churned and ran white again.

The Bendigo moved.

Judah Bendigo stirred. His hand went up to cup his eyes as he stared back at the burning island.

Karla turned from the rail. Her eyes were full of tears. She walked away, looking down at the deck.