Since I was transferred to the maximum security jail in Boston I have
had some time to write.  I may be here for a while.  I am being held for the
murder of Richard Astor, a wonderful old man of some 77 years, Ryan Garriot,
the constable of Portsmouth, which is a little town on the coast, and Lee 
Treknil, who was a good friend of mine.  I have been questioned extensively 
about the disapperance of Margaret Astor, Richard Astor's daughter and Ryan
Garriot's wife.
	Her disappearance was reported last night by her sister,Gilda, whom she
shared (shares) a house with outside of town.  I have not told the police much
of anything about what really happened, so this will be my confessional.  I
imagine this is why they agreed to let me have pencil and paper in here. 
Maybe they are hoping I will try to kill myself with it.  They don't like me 
much.  Like all police they are also judges.
	First, was our trip over.  Lee and I just finished a backpacking trip
in Europe.  We were taking a cargo plane from Cairo to London, with a stopover
in Portsmouth, then back to the states.  Riding in the cargo bay is a lot
cheaper than a normal ticket on a normal plane, and by this time we were
almost broke. About halfway through the flight, Lee unstraps himself from his
seat and starts rummaging around the crates.  Nothing there interested him so
 he broke open the latch to the upper cargo room and crawled up into it.  I
was not going to go up after him, but after a while his silence began to
worry me.  Since he had crawled through the trapdoor I had not heard a single
sound from him.
	Nothing.
	So I undid the buckles and climbed up after him.  He was easy to
find.  He was crouched next to a an opened crate that was close to a window,
holding a small box.  I looked in the box and there was this tiny little ring.
But Lee was not looking at the ring.  He was rubbing it back and forth with
his finger but he was looking out across the cargo room into the darkness.
I said Lee and he said come over here, you've got to try this.  So I rubbed
 the ring and nothing happened.  At first.  Then the walls of the plane
started to become hazy and transparent.  After a few seconds the plane was
gone.  I looked at the groundbelow and it seemed to be just one big face.
Or maybe it was made up of millions of tiny faces.  It is hard to explain.
I felt very strange, like in a dream.  After a few minutes I remembered that
a crewman would be coming by to check on us.  I did not want to get caught up
 there, but my sense of time must have been screwed up, because the next
thing I remember is an Egyptian crewman standing over me, yelling at me in
Egyptian.  I couldn't understand his words but his meaning I got. We spent
the rest of the trip being watched by the guard with his gun pointing at us.
We didn't say a word the whole time.  When we arrived in Portsmouth there
were police waiting for us. This is where we met constable Garriot.  He told
us that he was supposed to hold us until the evening, when the London police
would arrive to take us in.  He was a kind man and said if we wished we could
wait at his home with he and his wife rather than at the airport.  We
gratefully accepted his offer and he drove us out to his house.
	When we got there he sat us down in an outside square and made us
drink tea with him, and then said They are going to ask you a lot of
questions. Like what were you doing on that plane?  We were trying to get
back to the states I said.  He said and what were you two doing in that cargo
 room?  We were curious I said.  No he said, that's not good enough.  Try
again.  We were trying to get to our luggage? I said. That's better, he said.
These men from london are very keen on talking to you, I don't know why but I
 think you ought to tell me what you know.  Lee and I looked at each other
and then looked at the man and said nothing. OK, he said, but you are going
to have to talk to somebody eventually, whether you like it or not.  His wife
Margaret came out to the square that we were seated in and offered us a tray
of biscuits.  I wasn't hungry and I don't think Lee was either, but we both
took one of the biscuits and chewed on them for a while.  She began to talk
about her life there in Portsmouth and she had (has) the biggest brown eyes
and the most gentle way about her that after a while we began to respond and
make conversation with her.  After a while she came back to the question of
why we were wanted by  the police and what had we done on the airplane.
Maybe it was the tension in me, between Lee and I ( we had hardly said a word
to each other since the plane).  I don't know but for some reason I still
don't understand I just blurted out 'the sky.'  And then I couldn't hold it
back anymore.  I told her everything, like a damn bursting.  At first she had
 a generic look of concern on her face, but when I got to the part with the
ring, her expression changed into one of genuine worry and despair.  She got
up and walked into the house saying you boys stay here, i will do what I
can, you have to stay here, i am going to make a call.  We could hear her
talking on the phone in the house, she was yelling, almost hysterical.
'Father,' she said.  'Do you still have it?'  You know what I am talking
about. Do you still have it?  Bring it.  You must come over here right away.
Bring it with you.'  Then she hung up the phone and walked out past us to the
driveway and there she stood for a while, pacing.  We said nothing to each
other.
	Eventually an old car with an older man driving it came down the road
and into the driveway.  She was at the car and opening the door, helping him
out of the car scarcely before it has stopped.  Margaret was whispering to
him, but so loudly that we could hear.' they are going to be here soon, did
you bring it? Let me see it.  We have to do something before they get here.
The old man turned around, took a small box from his coat pocket and
deposited it in her pale hands.  She immediately became calmer.  The man
walked up to us, looked long at us both and said' good evening, my name is
 Ryan Garriot.  I am Margaret's father.  She tells me that you two are in
some trouble.  I have lived in this town for many years as well as in Egypt
--and many other countries.  I believe I may be of some help to you in your
situation.  Now tell me again from the beginning what happened.'  I opened
my mouth to speak but in the silence between he and I was the engine sound.
We all four of us turned around to look, and coming around a bend a ways off
was a big black government sedan.  This made Margaret go crazy.  She was
saying all kinds of stuff--" we have to get it away, we have to get them away,
 we have to help them, we have to use it, THEY ARE GOING TO BE HERE.'  She
was trying to open the little box her father had given her, but it would not
open.  Her face was the pure expression of terror.  Mr. Astor  turned towards
 the house to meet Constable Garriot running out, saying to us, don't worry,
they aren't going to hurt you, they just want to ask you some questions.' 
Mr Astor stepped towards the constable and, for a moment, he blocked Margaret
from my view.  In that moment I heard the pop of the jewelry box coming open,
and when I saw Margaret's face it had changed more than I could have possibly
imagined.  Instead of fear her face had contorted into a mask of hate and
frustration.  Then a knife was coming out of the front of Mr. Astor's stomach,
and Margaret's hand was driving it in!  I saw no expression on Mr. Astor's
face.  He fell to the ground and at the exact same moment the little jewelry
box hit the ground.  I saw Margaret rub her hand with the knife along her
belly and I saw the ring on her hand shine.  And I saw her disappear, all of
her.  And I ran.  I just turned and ran as fast I could go through old fences
and bushes, and I heard screams behind me but I couldn't look so I just kept
running.  I scraped myself a lot but at the time I felt nothing.  I came out
on a dirt road after awhile.  It was dark then but suddenly the cops were
there and they took me in here, where I am right now.
	I have not written it yet but I am scared.  This confined space is a
death trap for me.  There is no where for me to run or go in this cell.  Mrs.
Margaret Astor killed her father and her husband and my best friend and no one
can see her.  She will kill me.  Maybe she wants to kill all the men around
here, I don't know.  I am certain she has been in my cell with me already. 
I heard whispering.  Can you imagine anything more terrifying? You can't blame
 me for doing this.  It's my last choice.  Thank you, Good bye, and God Bless.