Room-temperature beer had never tasted so good. Connor made a mental note of the location of the warehouse, in case he ever found himself in this part of the world again. His suspicion was that he would be a frequent visitor.
“Cheers.” Noecker held his bottle out to Connor.
Connor obligingly clinked the neck of the bottle, sat back on an empty pallet and took a long pull on his beer.
“You’re a total and utter prick, you know that Noecker?”
“Shut up and put a couple of steaks on the braai.”
“Normality would be a welcome change.”
“I was only following orders, you know that.”
“The orders were shit. I couldn’t shoot innocent civilians. How can you live with yourself after giving those orders?”
“You think I sleep at night?” Noecker picked at the label with his thumbnail. “I still see them. The bodies. That’s why I’m with the Drop now. Trying to make amends. Stand up for the people. Stand against this government.”
“Better late than never. Why did it take you so long?”
“Duty.” Noecker swallowed heavily. “And I’ve been feeding military information to the Drop. Don’t pretend you were following some noble cause in lockdown. You’d still be slugging brandydrink and masturbating if we hadn’t come calling.”
“Come smashing my gate down, more like. Why didn’t you ring the doorbell like normal people?”
“Thought you might turn me down.” Noecker almost smiled. “And it was good to see you hadn’t lost your instinct for survival.”
“Like a cockroach. You taught me well.” Connor drained the dregs of his Castle.
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Cheers.
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