Sitting in the old, leather chair that was worn perfectly the way he loved it, he sank back. He realized the place was a bit dusty, and told himself he would go over it again with a feather duster before bed. The first thing he had done when he returned to it two days prior was empty all of the alcohol into the toilet and flush. This included every bottle, every flask and every stash. Following that, he had dug out a few torn photographs of Erin and Eric, and glanced over them. Returning them to the spot he always kept them in, he turned his attention to his book, and began to read in the dim, soft light of the early evening.
He heard a familiar rapping at the door. It was Jimmy, using a tell-tale knock he was familiar with. He answered the door, and Jimmy rushed in. Timothy said, "Were ya followed, Mate?"
"No. I wasn't. I have information, Timothy. I believe it's what ya wanted."
"All right, what is it?"
"Ya know the expression of finding things right under your nose?"
"Yes, I know it well."
"Well, hold on to y'ar hat, they've found Thornhart."
***
"Shaun, you've arrived?"
"Yeah, John, we just landed. We're getting into the copter now. Devon and I are assigned to protect the family. Seems we have our own little cabin on the grounds."
"Good. Do me a favor, will ya?"
"If I can."
"Keep Manning out of Dublin."
"He's a grown man, and believe me, if he wants to be in Dublin, he will be."
"Well, the least you can do is try for me. I want him out of this. He's got too much emotion tied up in it all, and it won't be good with how this is panning out."
"What, it's bad?"
"I don't think I have to remind you what we're dealing with."
Shaun stopped. "I still remember Todd, when they found him. I've never seen a man look that way and live."
"Exactly why he needs to stay out of this."
"Thornhart, you going to find him?"
"I plan to."
"I'll do what I can. But you know Todd. He does what he wants. Like it or not."
"I know. Familiar with the guy. Spent a lot of time with him in Greece."
"Again, I'll try. I might have to get Blair involved. That's the only person he even thinks about listening to once his mind is made up."
John thought. "My money is on the nun," he said.
***
"Seems they believe Patrick is in the catacombs. Somewhere underground in Rialto." Jimmy offered. Come to think of it, Thornart is probably being kept in the same place the American was, a few years back. The one ya adopted, what's his name? It's escaped me."
"Todd."
"Ay. We call him The American here, or sometimes, The American with the Scar. He's become part of the RA21 folklore. Somewhat of a folk hero, or a type of deity. The locals are amazed by the stories of what he endured."
"Hmf. A deity. Todd would laugh at this."
"Well, signs point to the fact that Thornhart is being held in the same catacombs under Rialto. They had vacated that area when they were caught before. Seems they liked their set up too much to let it go."
"Possibly. Ya have the proof?"
"Some of the younger set found out. They have every entrance guarded by armed henchmen, bombs, booby traps, the works. They're reluctant to break into this without being fully prepared."
"I'll ask Todd about this, but I know what he will say. He will tell us to move quickly. Thornhart probably won't have much time."
"I'll agree. I just wanted ya to know the next bit. At least they have found his whereabouts."
"I'll let John McBain know. I thank ya for getting back to me."
"Just remember, Timothy, ya know what they are capable of. Watch your back. It wasn't long ago that ya were their main target, My Friend."
Jimmy left, and the door clicked quietly behind him, the lock automatically catching. Timothy sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. In his mind, he remembered being in the cemetery, on a hill outside Dublin. The voice in his head was still as clear in his mind as it was that day, 31 years ago:
Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.
I am not there. I did not die.
Your comments are 'payment' for the work of the authors. Our writers like to hear your feedback. Please leave a comment when you read.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Provide us with feedback, but be courteous in your comments and criticism. Thanks!