After he dropped Mum back at home, David asked me if I could talk with him, in private. I agreed, and so we drove back to his house, where we had a long discussion about my father, what kind of man he was, what my brothers were like, and my life with Barbara. As we talked, I could feel myself uncoiling inside. Telling this man about the life I’d had before I came here, about school, about England was almost therapeutic, relaxing, even, and I warmed to him even more. His penetrating wit and warm sense of humour were a delight, and I found myself comparing him to my father and finding no points of comparison. I know now what he was doing, but right then I was drawn to him, not understanding his motive for drawing me out but feeling better for the experience. He’d said to me before he was no therapist; I think I’d have argued that point with him now.
Eventually, after several coffees and a long, searching, and invigorating talk he dropped me back home, my spirits considerably lifted, reminding me that he would be picking me up at two o’clock to drop the documents off at the FBI then we would go to meet his friend.
While he was dropping me off, he had another, brief chat with mum, and whatever he said seemed to have lifted her spirits considerably by the time he left. Mum actually smiled at me several times; it appeared David was good for her too…
Mum and I had a light lunch and were just clearing the remnants when David arrived. Mum looked suddenly worried again, but David reassured her that all he was doing was taking those hateful documents to his friends, and they could decide how to proceed; he and I were focusing on landing me a job, so not to worry, and we’d see her later that afternoon.
David’s friend, Mark was a true Brit-car enthusiast, and his shop, Mark One Auto-Sport, was a mecca of classic British roadsters. Scattered around the shop were a selection of MG A’s and BGT’s being stripped and refurbished, an original Mini Cooper S with rally roundels side-by-side with a pristine Triumph Stag and a stunning silver TVR Cerbera. In addition, a Morgan 4/4 with the Ford Germany Zetec engine, and several older Jaguar’s were in various stages of repair. My eyes were drawn to a beautiful Caterham Seven in the classic Lotus livery of British Racing Green with the yellow nose-cone, and Mark followed my gaze.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he asked me, and I grinned back at him.
“This is a customer vehicle,” he said, “but one day I’m going to get myself an original Lotus 7, with the Colin Chapman badge, just so I can say I own one; then let’s see David lord it over me with that Bristol of his!”
We talked about what I’d done in college, the manufacturer certifications I had, and the specific diagnostic skills I had learned, and he appeared satisfied.
“OK Nick, I think you have what I need. I can’t start you as a Senior Technician, so I’ll make you a deal; you sit out the probationary period as Junior Technician and study for your ASE certification, at my expense, and we’ll talk about advancement after your probation is up. The money’s not that great to start with, but it’ll get better if you show me what you can do. Deal?”
I looked over at David for a cue, and he smiled and nodded slightly, so I grinned.
“When can I start?”
Mark grinned back.
“Bring your Social Security documentation as soon as you get it, but I see no reason why you can’t start… a week Monday? That should be enough time for all your paperwork to be finalized. I have a couple of MG SRV8’s and a 1986 Esprit S3 HCi due in for servicing about then, so they’re yours. Welcome aboard!”
I was grinning like a pumpkin; I had a job!
Mark walked me around the shop, and introduced me to the other technicians, who were intrigued at the idea of having an Englishman working with them, and I had to explain several times I was an American, brought up in England, which they seemed to think was odd; if I was American, why did I sound so British…? That aside, they were a friendly bunch, and genuinely welcoming, and I even got to potter around with a couple of them inside the engine bay of a lovely Jaguar XJS while Mark talked to David; I was looking forward to working with them.
After washing up, David drove us to the FBI building on McCarty Avenue, and introduced me to his friend, Special Agent Mike Walker. After a short preamble, David handed over the documents Barbara had sent us.
“Mike, this arrived from England this morning. Nick’s stepmother sent this to him last week; she sent Nick to London to escape his father, and the next day she was dead, apparently she took her own life the same day these documents were mailed, last Friday afternoon, in England. She and Nick were badly beaten by his father the night before, which is why he was sent away. Nick, do you mind…?”
I stood up and unbuttoned my shirt, pulling it up at the back so Agent Walker could see my back. I heard the sharp intake of breath as he surveyed what that man had done to me.
“Jesus Christ, what the fu…!” I heard him mutter under his breath.
David quickly checked my back and told me to do my shirt up, before turning to the FBI agent.
“His father did this to him five days ago. He abducted Nick when he was a small child and took him to England, and Nick only returned a few days ago when he found out where his Mother was. This is the kind of man we’re dealing with here, Mike, and I have to be honest, the coincidence of Nick’s stepmother mailing these documents to Nick’s mother, his ex-wife, and then dying the following day is stretching my credibility to the limit. Do me a favor, please; ask the police in England if you can what their investigations into Barbara Davies’ ‘suicide’ turned-up, if anything? I just have a bad feeling about this, and from what I’ve seen in those documents, something bad and very dangerous is going on here; ‘by the pricking of my thumbs…’, you know what I mean?”
Agent Walker nodded slowly.
“I’ll pass this on to Alan Dubowski, he’s the Special Agent in Charge here in Albany, I think he’s definitely going to want to see this; he can get this moved up to a higher level if anyone can. Leave this with me and I’ll see if I can get some quick action on it.”
We stood up to leave, and Agent Walker smiled at David.
“Please, give my best to Judy. How’s she doing these days?”
David grinned back.
“Judy’s… Judy, what more can I say?!”
Agent Walker grinned even wider.
“I heard that! One day either she’ll be working with us, or her picture’s gonna be on that wall out there with a reward notice, and I wouldn’t want to bet which one it’s going to be!”
David laughed out loud, and we took our leave of his friend, an intern escorting us to the lobby.
I was quiet on the way home, and eventually David asked me what was troubling me. I stayed silent, not wanting to talk about what I was thinking, until I noticed we’d arrived at David’s house.
“OK Nick, we had this talk this morning, tell me, what’s going on?” He asked.
“I want that son of a bitch to stand in front of me so I can rip his fucking throat out, that’s what I want; I want him to look into my eyes as I kick the chair away from under him, and I want to see the look on his face and the fear in his eyes when he gets that short drop and the sudden stop! I want him to scream in pain, and know it’s me doing it to him, and I..!”
David cut me short.
“Stop it Nick, now! This is not you, and you know it. We’ve done all we can, you’ve done everything you could; now it’s up to the authorities to drag that bastard over here and make him pay. Leave it alone, Nick, revenge is not you, there’s too much of your mother in you to behave like him! I heard what you did to those two boys in the burger joint; anyone else would have put them in hospital, but you had enough restraint to teach them a sharp lesson without actually injuring them; that’s the mark of a man, not the capacity to plot bloody revenge. Confucius once said ‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge, first dig two graves’, and you know what? He was right; don’t deliberately set out to become the man your father is, you’re better than that!”
I sat there and listened to him because I respected him, and because he made sense, but the anger remained, and I had no way of cooling it down without feeling that I’d let Mum and Ashley down. As I pondered his words, I could feel myself calming down; one day, the people here would yank that complacent bastard out of his smug little hideout and stretch his neck, and we’d get, if not justice, then at least payback. Then, we could walk away secure in the knowledge that he was paying for everything he’d done, everything he’d set in motion, and all the hurt he’d caused the innocent.
David watched me calming down and accepting that this was how it would have to be, then grinned, and patted me on the shoulder.
“Good man, that’s the stuff. Don’t worry, Nick, just have faith in the system, he will fall, believe me!”
I had to grin at his optimism, and clambered out of the car with him, wondering why we’d come back here, so I asked him. David just grinned at me and told me to follow him. He opened one of the four garage doors and there was a silver Dodge Caliber.