Feisty Repartee

The Sins Of The Father, Final Chapters

Given that I am experiencing some medical issues that may require a minor surgical procedure and keep me from updating this in a timely fashion, I am giving you the final chapters. This has been tons of fun for me, and I truly appreciate those of you who read along and told me what you thought! Thank you...

Part 17

Dr. Benjamin Richardson was a tall, wiry man who seemed to hunch in an effort to make himself smaller. Behind his spectacled eyes was something disturbing, and Martin swallowed hard, reminding himself that the nightmare was almost over. With Jack out of the picture, Richardson had not only readily agreed to accept the initial offer Martin had made, but had insisted the exchange be made in person.

Richardson had chosen to meet Martin at Villa Celimontana, an almost hidden public garden that was once a vineyard. The man was determined to explain to Martin why he had chosen to pursue the alteration of the virus, adamant that his intentions were that the virus be used to end war, not start it. Martin was tempted to ask him why he was selling the formula secretly then, rather than offering it to the government, but he bit his tongue.

As they walked the pathway past a small, nearly concealed obelisk, Richardson slipped a small object into Martin’s hand. Martin looked at the key.

“The vials and formula are inside a --” Richardson’s mouth continued to move soundlessly despite the hole that had appeared in his forehead. His eyes rolled into his head and he fell over stiffly, landing in his own brain tissue. Martin stood watching, stunned, unable to move despite the adrenalin that coursed through his veins.

Just as he turned to locate the shooter, the sting of a bullet across his cheek brought his feet to life, and he raced down the heavily vegetated, winding pathway past the fountain he‘d seen on their walk. He found himself approaching a building used by the Italian Geographical Society. Breathing hard and crouched low, he tried the doors and found them locked. To the left of the building were winding pathways, and green lawn, and he sprinted down the pathway. Desperate for escape from the heavy footsteps behind him, he took in the view over southern Rome and the massive ruins of the Baths of Caracalla. Looking over the panoramic parapet, Martin saw the more overgrown sections of the old landscaped gardens, beyond the boundaries of the present park.

“I lost him.”

“What do you mean you lost him?” Coleman growled angrily, turning left down the hallway. He had been mere feet from the woman’s hotel room door when the call had come in.

“Richardson gave him a key, told him where to find the samples and formula. I had to rush things. A group of tourists were nearby. McKay got away.”

Coleman flipped shut his phone and walked to the elevator. The woman could wait. He needed to find Martin McKay and that key. His own life depended on it.

The mid-afternoon sun was bright. As he pulled on his sunglasses and walked briskly towards his parked car, Coleman failed to notice the delivery truck approaching at a high rate of speed. Several witnesses reported to the polizia that the victim never saw the truck before it struck him, and dragged his body several hundred feet. In the chaos, no one remembered seeing the driver of the stolen truck flee the scene of the accident.

Part 18

Joseph held the small, unmarked key in his fingers. The flickering candle light shone warmly on the silver surface, and he stared at it a long time. There was no way to identify the key. The others had tried unsuccessfully for three days. He sighed, and slipped the key back onto the chain with the other before lighting a cigarette. His lungs filled with smoke, and he coughed violently before bringing up a plug of thick mucus. It’s near, he thought, glancing at the bed. Jack had woke from Fermi’s coughing, and was sleepily staring at him.

“How are you, son?” Joseph asked, clearing his throat. Jack ran his tongue over his dry lips and tried to speak, unable to produce more than a groan.

“You need to rest,” Joseph said, patting Jack’s hand. “He nearly killed you with that knife.” Jack frowned, finding the details of what had happened difficult to remember. He shifted on the bed, grimacing to find that he was so weak. Joseph turned Jack’s right hand over, and dangled the keys over his palm, before setting it and the chain on it. He closed Jack‘s fist tightly around them, and held his own hands around Jack‘s.

“I’m dying Jack. Cancer.” Joseph smiled softly when he saw Jack’s frown. “I’m ready to go. I’m an old man who long ago out-lived my usefulness.” He stood, and walked slowly to the head of the bed. Leaning down, he kissed Jack’s cheek tenderly, and moved his mouth close to his ear.

“The keys…” Joseph whispered a long time in Jack’s ear before he stood. “I trust you will do the right thing.” He patted Jack’s hand again, and opened the old wood door, leaving so his guest could rest. He knocked on the closed door across the hallway, smiling when she opened the door.

“Your young man is awake,” Joseph told her.

Martin drained the scotch from his glass and set it on his desk. He ran his long fingers through his greasy hair, and down to the scruffy beard that he hadn’t bothered to shave. The gun sat on the desk in front of him as it had every day of the last week, tempting him, mocking him. He simply hadn’t the courage to pick it up, preferring to drown his guilt with alcohol.

The key had been worthless to him when Richardson was murdered without revealing what the key opened. Still, he had used it as a bargaining tool with Fermi - the key for his safety. The others were not aware that Coleman had never received the key from Martin, and the assassin from the garden wasn’t able to tell them otherwise. Martin had taken care of that himself, before calling Fermi for help. He hadn’t expected the man to help him, after what he’d done, but Fermi had come along with a driver to pick him up. He’d readily accepted the key and Martin’s terms, his only condition that Martin leave Kate behind, and forget that she ever existed.

It had been an easy thing to accept. He hadn’t wanted her to begin with, especially after hearing that she was pregnant. Fermi simply saved him the couple million he’d have had to fork over when he divorced her, not to mention the humiliation of his friends and colleagues knowing she was pregnant with Jack’s child. Jack…

Martin poured another two fingers of scotch and drank it in one long gulp. It hadn’t mattered what Jack and Fermi had told him. He knew hatred, knew that once it gripped you it did not let go. Jack’s supposed attempt to set things right had been nothing more than another manipulation, another lie. He’d merely wanted to rub it in his face, that he held all the cards. He took me for a fool, Martin thought, remembering Jack’s insistence that he leave Rome with Kate for their own safety.

He hadn’t even realized he’d picked up the steak knife from the table when he’d left the smoky restaurant moments after Jack. He’d followed him on foot, his anger seemingly multiplying with each step. Knowing that Jack had become lost and would double back, he’d had the perfect opportunity to lie in wait for him. He hadn’t intended to kill him. When he’d seen the knife in his hand, and Jack slumped on the ground and bleeding heavily from his chest…

Martin poured another drink. The man he’d seen following Jack had wrestled the knife from him before checking Jack for a pulse. When he’d shaken his head, Martin had panicked, and had run the entire way to his hotel, where he spent the next two hours violently retching. He wiped the tears from his cheek. He hadn’t meant to kill him.

Part 19

He set the paper on the table and walked to the rail of the balcony, gazing out at the incredible view of the Pacific Ocean. He heard the paper rustle as Kate picked it up to read the full story. He couldn’t believe he had been too late. He’d no sooner regained his strength and planned to return to the states when Joseph had passed. He’d spent four days trying to sort through all the legal documents before insisting that it wait for his return. If only he had left a day sooner…

“It’s not your fault,” Kate said, wrapping her arms around him. He desperately wanted to believe her, afraid that if he searched through the last twelve days he would find that he had indeed stalled to avoid going to see Martin. Hell, he wasn’t sure what it was he had hoped to accomplish anyways. He had simply wanted to tell his father that he forgave him, that he hoped for his forgiveness one day.

He turned and looked into Kate’s blue eyes. He was afraid of loving her like he did, of the child she was carrying in her womb. What if he ended up just like his father? Could he do all that he needed to do, and still keep his family his first priority? He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her silky hair for the longest time. Kissing her softly, he walked back into the room to shower. He needed to take care of his father’s urgent business matters, and plan a funeral.

Part 20

Jack opened the door quietly and stepped into the dark room, the faint glow of the nightlight revealing that Kate had just finished settling the baby in her crib. He watched his wife as she gently stroked their daughter’s silky black hair, a smile on her beautiful face.

“Go say goodnight to mommy,” he whispered to his son as he set the boy on the soft carpet and watched him race across the room to Kate. Kate knelt and pulled him into her arms and kissed his cheek as she hugged him tightly, before he wiggled from her and ran from the room, tugging Jack along with him.

He is definitely daddy's boy, Kate thought, taking a deep breath.

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