CHAPTER 189

AFTER LEAVING A LARGE PART OF Martin's savings in the hands of Dr. Robinson, the three of them left in a hurry in one of their cars. Clooney was driving, although his eyes were heavy with fatigue, and Benedetti was in the passenger seat, to give Martin more room in the back. They still had no clear destination, but they needed to escape, hurry up, stay ahead. They were now nomads of insecurity. They had the mark of Cain on their foreheads, but with the word death shining through it.

As he watched the few streetlights passing over him through the poorly lit streets of the city, Martin wondered about this new world he found himself in. Societies that seemed to evolve more and more, but did not realize they were subjugated to a greater power, like animals in a corral. Big and small, with their own values and goals, but deep down, they just remained inert, being carried away by the many forces that operated above them. Surely he knew that Kenagan's death did not represent the end.

In truth, it represented the death of someone who had been on the same side, fighting the same battle, but with the wrong weapons. Kenagan now meant much more of a loss than a victory. But the first step had been taken. The first issue had been resolved, and like a strong wind blowing through dust, it had only raised many more issues.

After all, who was right in all that?

Who were the actors in that immense theatrical spectacle?

He didn't have any of these answers, but he had made one important discovery: the way backstage.