by Wayne Block
Steven finished the rest of his drink, but said nothing. He was feeling groggier. “Are you sure about this coffee? I don’t feel better. Actually, I’m feeling worse.”
The priest laughed. “Don’t worry. You will soon feel better. Be patient my son; patience is a virtue.”
Steven tried to fix his eyes on the priest, but his vision was failing him. “When did you last see James?”
“I saw him many years ago, long after I became a priest and took up my missionary work. James was no longer fearful of revealing his identity to me, because I was simply a shepherd tending my flock. ”
Steven tried lifting his head, but couldn’t. He was having difficulty speaking, all his words were slurring and his tongue felt heavy. The priest pontificated about faith and tragedy, moving in and out of Steven’s focus. Completely unable to move, Steven tried to concentrate on the priest’s sermon about redemption. He heard not only the sentences commanding God’s forgiveness but also the separate words; a pattern slowly emerging. Although his brain seemed to be failing him, his auditory function had somehow been enhanced. He found himself in a state of self-awareness where everything he saw and heard had special meaning.
“Should not God and man forgive the thief who steals bread for his family?” the priest asked, not waiting for a response. “James is the gardener who pulls the weeds and the hunter who ferrets out the weak and the sick from the herd. He is one of God’s instruments with a unique and special responsibility. You must move on with your life. You must let bygones be bygones.”
Those words, Steven thought. Where had he heard those words before? Steven could barely keep his eyes open. “You put – some – thing – my – drink…”
“Yes, it is called ayahuasca, and it is a natural hallucinogen. It is very powerful and will lead you to a deep religious experience. You will feel better in the morning. For now, you must sleep.”
Steven suddenly remembered what Charlie had told him about the Scorpion’s speech patterns. He remembered Charlie repeating the Scorpion’s words: “Patience is a virtue.” He then looked at the space where the Roman collar would be. In that place was an unusually straight tan line. It was him! Steven desperately tried to sit up, but couldn’t move. His head spun with a symphony of voices in his brain. He tried to speak, but he didn’t know whether it was his voice or one of the voices in his head that was now speaking to him. “It’s…you!”
The priest noticed a flash of awareness in Steven’s dilated eyes and felt hatred flow toward him, the man Steven so desperately wanted to kill. A tear trickled out of the corner of Steven’s eye, frustrated by his paralysis. He was frozen, mere inches away from the executioner of his children. He knew he was dead and said an act of contrition: “Forgive me, Amanda, for I have…failed…you.”
Bending close and gently wiping the tear with his cassock the priest whispered: “You have tasted my sting. When a Scorpion hungers, it seizes its prey, paralyzes it with venom, and then injects an enzyme to liquefy the internal tissues. Then it feeds, sucking the prey dry and leaving an empty husk. Steven, you are now akin to a Scorpion’s victim. You are immobile, paralyzed. Amazonian natives take this same potion for heightened religious awareness. I hunger for your forgiveness. Actions beyond our control have left us both emotionally bankrupt, empty husks. I can speak with you now, without the possibility of violence or death, from either of us. I seek forgiveness, not only for the death of your loved ones, but also for causing your emotional death. It was never my intention, in all the years I killed, to transform another person into the empty shell that I am. Murder, I will continue to do. Accepting what I did to you and your loved ones is a sin that I cannot live with. I chose to tell you my tale that only one other person knows. When I leave, I will leave you the choice to follow me or to return home. If you follow me, it will end in your death. If you return home, you will be free of me. You will choose whether you shall be a soulless husk like the Scorpion or a soulful man like his alter ego, Father Mateuse.”
“God will…help . . me,” Steven said, barely able to speak or move.
The Scorpion stood and placed a blanket over Steven. “God may be there for you, but remember Steven; you alone are accountable for your own actions and any consequences of those actions. It will be your choice and your decision.”
The Scorpion walked to the door. “Steven Capresi, son of Tomasso Capresiano, in another world we would have been friends. But we live in this world and I am granting you one last chance. You must choose. Sleep well.” The Scorpion returned the bag containing the cash the officers had confiscated from Steven, and disappeared out of the church and into the darkness of the square.
-------------------
Steven awoke hours before dawn with a terrible hangover. The church was empty, with no sign of Father Mateusse, Father Padron, or Carmen. As Steven struggled to reach the bus stop, he was demoralized and tired of the futility of this pursuit. Once again, the Scorpion had been within his reach and eluded him. His confidence was shattered and he realized the Scorpion had set rules to a game Steven could not understand. It was clear to him now that the Scorpion had arranged his delayed stay in Tena, but why? He desperately needed to collect his thoughts and leave this place. Ten minutes later, the first bus to Quito stopped for the sole passenger leaving Archidona.
CHAPTER FORTY
Steven had unsuccessfully tried reaching Nick numerous times. For his final stay in the city, Steven opted for a more luxurious hotel. After the last few days, he felt he deserved some extra comfort and spent some of Alberto’s money. He checked into the Marriott–one of the largest hotels in Quito–and placed his bags in his room and went to the hotel’s crowded restaurant for a late breakfast.
He passed by the table of a lone diner, and noticed the waitress was serving the man a bowl of oatmeal topped with a poached egg. The combination struck him as so odd that he held his eyes on the man for several seconds. As Steven found an empty table, he heard the man thank the waitress and request more coffee in perfect English. The voice was familiar, and he discreetly turned to catch a glimpse of the man. Trapped in the recesses of his mind was something strangely recognizable about him, and Steven scanned his memory like a facial recognition machine. Steven thought he was on the tall side, but couldn’t be sure since he was seated. He had long sideburns and dark brown hair, and was dressed conservatively. Steven didn’t know that this man had been following him, and that he had chosen his table and seat for the view it had of the hotel’s elevators.
Steven closed his eyes and recalled the hiker on the trail, mentally comparing both faces. Although the facial features were different, there was a similarity in the slight elongation of their faces. He tried to recall as much detail as possible about the priest’s face. Although most of his memory was distorted from the hallucinogenic, the man who was eating oatmeal resembled Mateuse. Steven took a sip of coffee and considered his options. Why would he be following Steven? Hadn’t he accomplished everything he had intended last night? Steven had no weapon and could neither kill the Scorpion nor defend himself if he were attacked. Everyone who knew the Scorpion was puzzled by his recent erratic behavior and there was no way to predict how he might react. If this was indeed James, what were the chances he would admit his identity to Steven? If he was wrong, he would only make a fool of himself with a perfect stranger, a small risk he was willing to take. He wasn’t going back into the mountains to search for the illusive Pierre Mateuse, wherever he might be. He believed that the priest and the Scorpion were the same person and he was willing to bet his life on it. He did not believe James had assumed the identity of the priest for the convenience of having a one-sided conversation with Steven. Steven stood and walked over to the man’s table.
The man nonchalantly looked up from his newspaper and smiled at Steven. “May I help you, Sir?” There was no trace of recognition.
Steven returned the smile. “I was wondering if I might join you for breakfast?” You see, I’m visiting this city and I
don’t know a soul. I couldn’t help overhearing you speak English. I’m rather homesick and could use the company.” Steven confidently sat down in the chair before the man responded.
“I don’t recall granting your request to dine with me,” the man said, with an amused expression on his face. “It is rather presumptuous and rude to sit down when no invitation has been extended.”
“Yes, normally I would agree. But I feel this inexplicable connection to you, as if we’ve already met.”
The man took a sip of his coffee, his eyes locked on Steven’s. Steven watched every movement, trying to detect any change in his demeanor. He betrayed neither the slightest emotion nor recognition, and Steven was beginning to believe he had made a mistake.
“All right, then,” he answered. “I am also alone in this city. Please join me.”
“Thank you.”
The stranger politely extended his hand across the table to Steven. “My name is Bryce Cardiff. I’m an architect from Wales.”
“I’m Steven Capresi from New York. I’m actually here on vacation and returning to New York.”
The man looked puzzled. “Quito is quite off the beaten track. What brought you here? Do not take offense; the city is lovely. But if I were going on vacation, Quito would not be on my list, unless perhaps, I was intending to visit Machu Picchu in Peru.”
“I’m not much of a traveler and don’t get away often. One of my friends recommended this city and so here I am.”
The two men regarded each other as the waitress brought over Steven’s breakfast. Steven’s new dining companion ate another spoonful of oatmeal.
“That’s the strangest breakfast I’ve ever seen!” Steven said. “Who would think to put an egg on top of oatmeal?”
The stranger did not reply and Steven took a bite of his omelet. Steven was beginning to lose confidence that this was the Scorpion, just as the man reached for the cream.
“Excuse my reach,” he said.
As he extended his arm, his shirt pulled back just enough for a glimpse of his watch, revealing a jade face with black Roman numerals. The priest! Steven laughed aloud, knowing he had his man. He was, of course, completely oblivious to the fact that the Scorpion had planned this encounter as part of his sick game.
“What’s so amusing?” the man asked.
“You.”
“I’m amusing you?” the man responded, slightly offended.
“I was admiring your watch. It’s beautiful; I’ve never seen one quite like it.”
For the first time in their conversation Steven detected the slightest trace of a reaction on his companion’s face. He simply nodded politely, refraining from volunteering any information about his watch.
“Actually, I stand corrected,” Steven added, suddenly becoming serious. “I have seen that watch before, but it was on the wrist of a priest named Pierre Mateuse. Does that name mean anything to you?”
The man shrugged as he finished the last of his oatmeal. “No. I cannot say the name means anything to me.”
Steven leaned closer. “Then I have only one question to ask you. Why did you kill my wife and my daughters, James?”
The man feigned astonishment, but Steven knew he’d hit the bulls-eye this time.
“Do you always strike-up conversations like this with strangers?”
Steven shook his head very deliberately, his eyes locked on his breakfast companion. “Only with you, James. Or should I call you ‘the Scorpion’? You see, while you have been learning about me, I have been learning about you. Veeksburn gave me an excellent description of your unusual tan lines created by your Roman collar and your ring. At first, I thought the information was useless and that I would never be able to identify you. But Joaquin told me to stay the course. He told me that no information is unusable, no matter how trivial. And here I am, discovering for myself that you have overestimated your own abilities. When you drugged me, I could barely see or speak, but I clearly saw your watch in the instant it was exposed, as you gave me a second mug of your toxin. I’ve been fascinated with wristwatches since my childhood, which is something you could never have known. My father was a watch collector and he left me many watches that I still cherish. That’s why I was so impressed with your watch. It was a freak detail no one else would have remembered. But I did and it was the clue that confirmed your identity. I’ve come halfway around the world to kill you. You’ve had many opportunities to kill me, but you haven’t. I ask you again, James: Why did you kill my family?”
The man looked firmly into Steven’s eyes and a thin smile slowly formed on his face. He sat back comfortably in his chair.
“You don’t have to worry about me killing you here,” Steven continued. “I doubt I would be fast or efficient enough to kill you with a butter knife. I know you’re armed and could kill me right now, but I don’t believe that is the ending you envisioned.”
The man laughed heartily. “You are truly an amazing man, Steven Capresi. I underestimated you. You are the only person who has ever identified me. I am very impressed. You are remarkably perceptive, and you are truly your father’s son! He would be proud of you, and yes, I knew about your father’s passion for watches!”
“My father?” Steven asked, caught completely off guard.
“Surprised? Yes. I knew him, and knew him well,” James replied. “But we will talk about your father later. For now, let us discuss your wife and children. That is why you have chased me around the world.”
“Go ahead,” Steven said, still fixated upon the mention of his father. “I’m not the one who needs to explain myself.”
“I am truly surprised to see how your hatred has diminished. A few weeks ago you would never have been able to sit across the table and break bread with me. You would have tried a witless act and ended up dead.”
“I’m a different man today.”
“As I hoped; you are a wiser man and a more skilled hunter now. I see it in your eyes.”
“Maybe, but we’re not finished yet.”
“I did not intend to kill your family. My assignment was to kill your friend and his wife. I did not know until that day your family was visiting.”
“You, the great Scorpion, didn’t know? You expect me to believe that?”
“Unfortunately for both of us, I was careless. I incorrectly assumed your wife and child were not there because her van was not present. I later learned that she had dropped it off at a nearby garage.”
Steven remained silent, raging against the man before him and the heartlessness of fate.
“Sometimes one mistake can change a life,” the Scorpion added. “Your wife and daughter must have been sleeping in the guest room. After I completed my assignment, I was making my way out of the house. Your wife was coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water. She startled me and I was taken off guard. I had no time to reflect. I simply reacted and instinctively fired the fatal shot. I immediately heard a noise behind me and fired again. It was your daughter. I sat on the floor and wanted to hold her in my arms. At that moment, I would have gladly traded my life for theirs, but there was nothing I could do. They haunt me every night as I see their faces in my nightmares. I was even willing to risk contaminating the scene by giving last rites to them, but I could find no oil within the house for the sacrament.”
Steven looked away. He couldn’t say anything. He wiped away his freely flowing tears with his napkin.
“Where do we go from here?” James asked.
“I still intend to kill you,” Steven answered, trying to avoid eye contact. “I don’t believe a small, pregnant woman could completely overwhelm the great ‘Scorpion’”.
“I anticipated you would have doubts,” the Scorpion replied, leaning in closely toward Steven. “Trust me. You will believe.”
“Tell me about my father,” Steven demanded.
“I knew your father as Tomasso Capresiano. His friends called him T.C.”
“Were you his friend?”
“Yes, his closest
friend. There is nothing we wouldn’t have done for each other.”
“Do you know my mother?”
“No. She came at a later time in your father’s life, after he and I parted ways.”
“Was my father in the food business?”
“No.”
Steven looked directly into the Scorpion’s eyes. “Do I want to know about my father?”
“That is up to you, but some things are better left alone.”
“Nothing is better left alone. Was my father an assassin? A paid killer?”
“Yes.”
“How did my father die?”
“He was murdered.”
“Was there a contract on my father’s life?”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No. I was originally offered the contract, which I refused.”
“If you didn’t kill him, who did?”
“Why is that important?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you!” Steven bellowed, attracting the attention of other customers. “Tell me about the killer!” Steven commanded, lowering his voice.
“You have already met your father’s killer.”
“What? Who killed my father?”
“Pablo Munoz.”
“That can’t be true!”
“You don’t have to take my word for it, but it is the truth.”
“Who ordered the contract on my father?”
“Sometimes what you do not know cannot hurt you.”
“Stop playing with me! I need to know!”
“Then you will have to hear it from someone else, because I will not tell you.”
“What kind of bullshit is this?” Steven stammered, raising his voice and again attracting the attention of other diners.
“All in good time,” the Scorpion answered.
“Good time? Now is the time! Do you know what I think? I don’t believe you even knew my father, and this is another one of your elaborate traps!”