Gabriel's Revenge (The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic Book 2)

by J. T. Lewis

Chapter 66

  August 28, 1998

  We pulled up in front of the dark house and Abby turned off the Jeep.

  “Are you sure about this Gabe? I’m thinking the less people that know about this the better.”

  “There are only one or two people I would trust with this Abby,” turning to look at her then, “besides you, I mean.”

  She smiled at that, and then exited the Jeep, coming around and helping me out and up the sidewalk. As we were ascending the steps, I was remembering previous nightly visits where I had not called ahead, being met by a double barrel shotgun for my troubles.

  Tapping lightly on the door, it immediately swung open, closing just as fast after we entered.

  “What in blazes happened to you Gabriel?” Doc Elliot questioned. “Cut yourself opening a can or something?”

  I had been pretty cryptic during our phone conversation, explaining only that I had needed to see him immediately, and that I needed his discretion.

  “Gunshot,” was all I needed to say before he motioned us to follow him down the nightlight illuminated hallway. Opening the door at the end of the hall, he reached in and flicked on the basement light, leading us down the old stairway.

  Once down, he pointed to an old examining table and told me to get up on it. The room around me reminded me of something you might see in one of those old movies where the Dr. secretly fixed bullet wounds for the mob.

  “Nice setup doc, you do this a lot?”

  “Just some of the old equipment from my practice, woulda been a shame to pitch it!”

  Turning on a bright light mounted to the ceiling, he swung it over my wound before pushing the glasses on his forehead down and examining the damage.

  “Flesh wound, I think you’ll live,” he dryly delivered as he went about the process of cutting away some of the pants leg, and then cleaning the injury. Next he took out a huge bent needle and threaded some filament through it.

  “I ain’t got any drugs to numb ya; so this may sting a mite!”

  I nodded for him to proceed, gritting my teeth fiercely when the needle pushed through my skin with a tug. After a few minutes, he stood up straight.

  “Need you to drop your pants so I can wrap it properly, you can step into the other room Miss…”

  “That’s Abby doc, she’s my…well, she’s my daughter.”

  Abby beamed brightly at that, saying she would go into the other room.

  “Daughter huh?” Doc said as he went to a cabinet to get the dressing, “news to me.”

  “Didn’t know myself until a few days ago,” I said with a smile, “kinda surprised myself.”

  Finishing the bandaging, he straightened up a final time before walking over and sitting down in an old dental chair. Pulling up my pants, I told Abby it was safe to come in. Formally introducing them then, they shook hands, Doc laying his left hand on hers and holding it a few moments with a smile.

  After he released his grip on her hand, he got serious.

  “Ok, Gabriel, tell me what’s going on.”

  Telling him that knowing might get him in trouble brought a big smile to his face.

  “Whata they gonna do, put me in jail?” he laughed, tickled at the thought.

  “Now get on with your story; an old man’s gotta get his sleep!”

  I explained our situation, and our tentative plans to capture the monk.

  “There is one…slightly unprofessional thing I would ask of you doc, if you think you can do it?”

  “Well, spill it; I’ll let you know soon enough.”

  “It would help us if you could…slow down your autopsy, in any way. Right now, they will not initially know who shot the killer; any delay in forensic evidence will buy us a little time.”

  I was still unsure as to how he would react to my suggestion, the scowl now on his face being a normal look for him anyway.

  Finally, he leaned back in his chair comfortably. “You know, one thing about having an old man as the coroner in this county, is that sometimes things get delayed. I work slow, sometimes I go home early, and there is always sickness to contend with. Not having an assistant, well that just adds to the delay; it may be three or four days before I could realistically finish an autopsy this week.”

  He smiled now like the devil, and I thanked him as I rose to leave. Limping on my first step, he stopped me, saying he had something that I could use. Going into the other side of the basement, he came back holding a beautiful cane in his hand.

  “This was my dad’s, never had occasion to use it. Might be useful for a couple of days.”

  I thanked my old friend again, shaking his hand warmly before heading back up the steps. “Change that bandage every day, and keep it dry. We don’t need any gangrene setting in.”

  Walking out through the dark hallway, doc placed his hand on my shoulder as I was leaving. “If I don’t hear from you in a few days, I’ll have to give them the information.”

  I assured him that should be enough time, and told him I would get word to him when I got back in town.

  As we walked down the steps and out the sidewalk, Abby was looking at me funny.

  “What did you mean, when you get back to town?”

  “Didn’t I mention that?” I said with a smile as we entered the Jeep, “we’re going on a road trip.”

  Chapter 67

  August 29, 1998

  I saw on the radio’s display that it was midnight as Abby started the car. We had lost a lot of time while at Doc’s, but it had been worth it.

  “Road trip,” Abby asked, confused. “Where are we going?”

  “I think the monk knows he is done here; I think he’ll go home.”

  “You think he will go to his Abbey?” Abby questioned.

  “That’s my thinking,” I stated. “There is a good chance that he won’t know we have that information. That’s probably where he feels the safest.”

  “There is one problem with your plan, Gabe.”

  “There are probably a multitude of problems with my plan Abby; which one are you referring to?”

  “Your car, if they tie you to the shooting, that’s the first thing they will be looking for, or mine too for that matter.”

  I smiled. “I think I may have a solution to that problem,” I said slyly.

  “Ok,” Abby said, putting the car in drive, “where to?”

  “Head for home,” I said without thinking, adding, “my house,” to clarify.

  Starting off down the street, I could see Abby was contemplating something.

  “Gabe, about…the other thing…”

  “Abby, don’t…”

  “Please Gabe, let me finish!”

  Her intensity got my attention, and I nodded for her to continue.

  “I would guess you have realized by now that I am not here for your money.” A big grin crossed her face as she said it, and I couldn’t help one on mine either. “Ok, my mom told me stories of you as I was growing up. She told me stories of your family, and life here in Indiana. She had a picture of you in your uniform. She never hid the fact that you were my father from me, and always made sure that we talked of you often; she wanted me to know you, to know Ga-bree-all, that’s how she pronounced your name, Ga-bree-all.”

  I smiled at the thought of Ann, and of her passing on what little of my history she knew to our daughter.

  “You were the big love of her life Gabe, the one; you could see it in your eyes when she talked of you.”

  “I tried to find her you know,” I said sadly. “We wrote letters back and forth, but then hers stopped. The hospital said she had gone back to her village, and they didn’t know how to get in touch with her. Soon after that, the country fell…”

  “She had to go back Gabe; her parents had arranged her marriage to a man from her village. She married well though; Kym successfully worked his way up in the new government, and although a very rigid man in most respects, he accepted her pregnancy with grace. He raised me as his daughter, his only daughter; they nev
er had any children of their own. I’m not certain that they ever tried.”

  Thinking back to the night Ann and I had said goodbye, Mr. Tran had missed out on a lot if that was indeed the case.

  “I’m a little confused,” I said, pondering. “Why didn’t you get in touch before now, and why the subterfuge?”

  She was quiet for a few moments while making the right turn down my street. “Because Gabe, she told me you were dead.”

  To say I was shocked was an understatement, “Why did she do that?”

  “She told me that originally it was because of the communists taking over; she had no idea that there would ever be communications with anyone in the US again. Later, when relations developed between the two countries, she said I was too old, as she had been telling me the story since I could walk. It was only on her deathbed that she finally told me.”

  “Ann…dead?” I said sadly.

  A tear formed in the corner of Abby’s eye, and she waited a few moments to gain control before speaking again.

  “Yes…cancer, she told me the day she died; I really believe that she held off dying until she had told me the story, having decided in the night that it was the best thing to do.”

  “I’m really sorry Abby, but why didn’t you just call or write, or just come and introduce yourself?”

  “Come on, Gabe! I at least knew about you for 25 years; you had no clue! I thought a face to face would be the best, but I was still unsure how to go about it once I got here. And then I found out you moved out of the country, for who knew how long.”

  Remorse again enveloped me; I’d lost track of how many times in the last two weeks that guilt had overwhelmed me.

  “I’m sorry Abby...”

  She looked at me suddenly, surprised.

  “Oh Gabe, please, no. I didn’t mean it like that, what you had been through, have been through these last couple of years. I don’t blame you for anything! I just meant… It would have been tough enough to tell you had you not been through all of that. When I found you in Lima; and since…I just wasn’t sure how to tell you. I didn’t want to dump something else on you with everything else.”

  I gave what she said some thought as she pulled into the driveway of the house. Getting out I lead the way into the house, going to the coffee pot and making a large batch as I continued to mull over what she had shared.

  Abby busied herself glancing through the files I had inadvertently left on the table. I guess security didn’t matter anymore; in my eyes we had the answer, and it was just a matter of wrapping it all up.

  Filling two cups with coffee, I carried them over to the table, taking a seat across from Abby.

  “Listen, Abby…”

  “Let me say something first,” Abby spurted out. “I know this is a lot to swallow all at once, and I’m not expecting anything. I have come to respect you very much; you are an awesome investigator and a great guy. If that is as far as you want to take this, I will feel blessed for the rest of my life having known you like I have.”

  “Can I talk now?” I asked with a straight face. Abby looked at the serious look on my face and nodded.

  “Firstly, you are the best thing that has happened to me in a long, long time, and that was determined before I knew we were related. I’ve never been a father, and I have no qualms telling you I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a good one.”

  “But I know this!”

  “Anybody would be proud to have you as a daughter. You are one of the most confident, friendly, funny, and apparently brave …women I have ever met. Your mom brought a wonderful person into this world and I will forever be grateful to her. You too can choose how you want me in your life from here on out, but know this, I’m hoping that you choose to hang around for a long, long time.

  A tear rolled down Abby’s cheek as I was talking; when I had finished she stood up with a squeal and ran around the table, hugging me tightly around the neck.

  I now had a tear in my eye, many of them truth be told, and a hole in my heart was on its way to being repaired.

  After a few wonderful minutes of this, I gently said we probably should get ready to go. Abby pulled away with her face covered in tears and asked for a tissue. I found her the box and handed it to her, using my sleeve for my own face.

  “What about the car? You said you had a plan?”

  “I do indeed; I’ll show you as soon as we get the coffee and a few other things ready.”

  I had her fill the thermos while I went to the safe to retrieve more bullets for both of our weapons. I had most of two boxes of cartridges for each weapon, and a couple of extra clips for mine. I also brought out Betty’s little .38 special and an ankle holster, which I went ahead and strapped on. I also deposited a full, speed loader in my pocket. Closing the safe and standing up, my eyes locked onto something hanging in the closet. I hadn’t thought to use a bullet proof vest, but now, with Abby involved, I pulled both of them out of the closet and shut the door.

  “What’s that?” Abby asked as I walked back into the kitchen.

  “Body armor I think they are calling it nowadays. I think Betty’s will fit you quite well.”

  She tried on the smaller of the vests and it fit her perfectly; the Embroidered badge and letters ‘APD’ showing brightly on her chest.

  “Fits great!” she said, “Kind of false credentials here though with the badge and all.”

  “No one will know where we are going. I hate wearing them, but it’s probably a wise precaution.”

  Abby took off the vest and grabbed the thermos, “Ready?”

  “Yep,” I said, “Let’s go.”

  Going out the back door, I led her to the garage through the little side door. Removing a large blue tarp revealed our getaway car, as I’d come to think of it.

  “Cool!” was all Abby to say.

  “Not exactly a corvette or anything,” I said as I threw the vests into the back seat.

  “We don’t need flashy,” Abby said, going around to the passenger side. “We’ll blend in nicely with this.”

  “This,” was a 1985 Mercedes 200; Betty had inherited it from her father when he had died. We had very seldom used it, and then only when traveling out of town. The light brown color helped it blend into the landscape of other cars when traveling along the road.

  “Won’t they still be able to trace this to you?” Abby asked with a worried look on her face.

  “Eventually maybe, but it’s registered in my wife’s maiden name; we just never got around to changing it. Very few people even know I have it.”

  I turned the key and the diesel engine cranked to life. “Thanks Frank,” I mumbled under my breath, knowing he had looked in on the old beauty while taking care of the other things while I was gone. He had loved this old car.

  Hitting the button on the visor, the opener came to life, slowly lifting the door and letting in the damp night air.

  “Our adventure continues,” I said dryly as I put the lever into drive and pulled out of the garage, making sure that the door closed behind us before leaving the driveway.

  I had brought a map with me from the house, and I gave it and my notebook with the address to Abby to locate.

  “Westville is up by Valparaiso, looks like almost five hours drive from here, maybe more.”

  “Ok, why don’t you try to grab a couple of hours of sleep; I might grab a nap later if I can.”

  I turned on the heater a little, the warm air eliminating the chill of the night. Abby set the seat back and covered herself with a jacket, getting comfortable and seeming to drop off in a couple of minutes. I smiled when I realized that she had probably also inherited that ability from me.

  As I drove out the state highway toward the Interstate, I thought a lot about our new relationship. While it was true that I had never learned how to be a father, it seemed pretty natural to take on that role with her, allowing of course that she was already grown.

  I guess you could say, that when this adventure ended, assu
ming we came out of it ok, that I had a whole new adventure waiting for me.

  One that didn’t involve bullets!

  Chapter 68

  August 29, 1998

  It was the dead of night when Girard arrived at the Abby. Pulling up in front of the old carriage house, he got out and pulled each of the doors out before getting back in the car and entering the old building. Shutting off the car, he got out and reclosed the doors before walking into the Abby.

  He knew his mission was finished, at least, in this country. Though not quite complete, he had accomplished almost everything he had set out to do, or rather, everything God had sent him to do.

  Entering the old building through the back door, the house was quiet. He had expected that, the others of his order having passed on long ago. After electing himself the Prior, he had hired a local oaf from the community to maintain the building, and a local bookkeeper to watch over the accounts and donations. Being a mendicant order, they had always relied on the charity of others to maintain their building, and their mission. He smiled as he thought about the four letters he sent each year, gently reminding his patrons it was time once more to put forth their pledge of support, the fate of their souls of course hanging in the balance.

  He had much to do, but he reckoned that he had a couple of days to get everything in order. First things first, he would need guidance on how to proceed, where to go. The Lord would put him where he was needed the most; he had but to ask.

  Heading into a small room at the back of the house, he walked up to the old table, bare except for the crucifix and candles that surrounded it.

  Lighting the candles, he then went to the small bathroom in the hall, stripping down all the way before turning on the cold water. Grabbing the lye soap, he methodically scrubbed every inch of his body, the cleansing ritual always the first step before talking to the Lord. Washing off the dirt and sins of those he was forced to interact with daily left him pure in the eyes of his God.

  Letting the cold water run over his head, he then grabbed a towel from the cupboard next to the sink, drying his body completely before donning a clean robe. Reaching down to his discarded soutane, he gently extracted the old leather testament and headed back into the candlelit room.