by Allan, Dale
AFTER PARKING, LUKE AND John rushed through the light snowfall toward the boat. Vincent met them at the back and helped each one aboard, anxious to hear what had happened in Saudi Arabia. Hunched around the kitchen table, Luke quickly relayed the events of the last forty-eight hours. Vincent was shocked to learn that Fatih’s parents were still alive.
When Luke further explained that Fatih’s mother, Kamilah, couldn’t talk because they had cut out her tongue, the other men were horrified. Vincent was visibly shaken because he had been so close to Fatih. He had eaten dinner with him, slept in the same house, and had even attended church with him. Once Vincent heard that Kamilah admitted that her husband and son were responsible for the bombing, he stared at Luke with an unspoken question. Luke replied by simply nodding his head. Now Vincent knew for sure that his parents were murdered by Fatih and Ismail. Tears welled in his eyes.
Continuing, Luke sadly explained that Jami wasn’t returning. Without her help, his trip would have been a failure. She had sacrificed her freedom to catch the people who had killed her sister, and in doing so had led them to their own families’ killers. The final shock came when Luke told them that Fatih had just returned to Boston. When they asked why, Luke reluctantly admitted, “To kill me.”
Vincent jumped from his chair and pleaded, “We need to go to the police, and I mean now!”
John whispered, “So that’s why you wanted me to check on Aaron’s house.”
Luke nodded.
Despite what Vincent thought, Luke wasn’t sure that he had enough evidence to arrest Fatih, but perhaps he might be able to convince Detective Romo to help. Even though it was the middle of night, Luke picked up his cell phone and dialed the detective’s number. When he didn’t answer, Luke left a message that he thought he knew who was responsible for the bombing in Boston. He added, “If you want to meet in the morning, I’ll be at the harbor on my brother’s boat. No one will see you.”
They agreed that they should be safe on the boat for the night, and they hoped they would be hearing from Romo in the morning.
When John stood to go, Luke said, “Why don’t you stay with us tonight?”
John declined and added, “I’m supposed to meet with someone who might want to lease Aaron’s office first thing in the morning. I want to make sure it’s clean before they arrive.” John bent down to pet Justice, who was sleeping on the floor, then shook hands with Vincent and Luke before leaving.
Walking into his bedroom, Luke noticed that Vincent had placed Blade’s ashes on his nightstand. He touched the box and said, “Keep helping me, Blade.” After taking a shower and putting on a pair of sweatpants, he heard a knock on his door. It could be only one person. “Come in, Vincent,” he said. Vincent entered the room, holding Justice in his arms. “I’m sorry to bother you, Luke, but I wanted to talk to you alone.”
Luke smiled. “No problem.” Vincent sat and said, “Can you tell me exactly what Kamilah said when you asked her about my parents?”
Luke explained, “It was the last thing I said to her. She was looking directly at me, and after I asked the question, she looked at the ground, ashamed at what her family had done.”
“I can’t believe it. She was like a second mother to me. She made me dinner, bought me clothes, and took care of me when I was sick.”
“I am positive that she had nothing to do with any of this,” Luke assured him. “They cut out her tongue and threatened to amputate her hands if she ever mentioned Boston again. She’s suffered immensely because of her evil husband and son. She can’t be held responsible for anything that happened to your family or mine. I’m sure her feelings for you were genuine. It was obvious that she was brokenhearted. Remember, she didn’t have to tell me anything, but she told me everything.”
“Where do you think Fatih is now?”
“I’m not sure, probably in some fleabag hotel watching porn and waiting to see if he can find me in the morning.”
“And what do you think he’s going to do if he finds you?”
“Probably try to run me down with a car or shoot me when no one’s around.”
“Does that frighten you?”
Luke forced a smile. “Not really. I’m prepared.”
“Prepared for what?”
“To meet God.”
Vincent smiled back. Luke asked, “What would you do if you saw him again?”
Pulling the gun out of his belt, Vincent aimed it at the wall and said, “No question about it, I would shoot him as soon as I could. I want him to pay and, more important, I want him dead.”
LUKE COULDN’T SLEEP. HE stared out the skylight and watched as eerie-looking clouds floated by, alternately obscuring and revealing the bright full moon. Vincent evidently wasn’t sleeping either, for Luke could hear him tossing and turning in the next room. How could they sleep, knowing that Fatih was in Boston? The cold reality was that Fatih was probably hunting for Luke at this very minute. Luke was tortured thinking about what he would do when he came face to face with his brother’s killer. He thought about what Vincent had said. Did Luke also want Fatih dead, or could he be satisfied with him just being captured? If it came down to a choice, would he kill Fatih to save his own life? Horrified, Luke wondered what kind of priest thought like this.
He glanced at the clock and saw that it was 4:12 a.m. Feeling the boat move, he figured that Vincent was taking Justice for a walk. Looking up at the skylight, he heard a muffled crack and saw something splatter on the glass. Hearing another, he heard Justice yelp. Realizing what was happening, he knew he was trapped. He could hear footsteps approaching, but he didn’t have time to lock the door. Petrified, he crouched down next to the bed, feeling helpless. His mind raced, and suddenly he had an idea. He reached up to the top of the nightstand and frantically felt for the skylight control panel. Finding it, he punched each button until it began opening. When it had moved just a few inches, the door crashed open.
Like a trained assassin, Fatih quickly scanned the room, looking for his victim. When his eyes met Luke’s, he smirked and slowly raised his gun, confident that this would be an easy kill. Desperate, Luke one-handedly grabbed the box of Blade’s ashes from the nightstand and hurled it at Fatih with all his strength, still forcing down the skylight switch with his other hand. All those years of baseball pitching finally paid off; his aim was perfect. The box hit Fatih squarely in the head and unexpectedly popped open, filling the air with ashes. The room went dark. Luke could barely make out the bright moon through the skylight above him. He knew his cell phone was on the bed, and taking advantage of the darkness, he desperately began running his hands over the covers in an attempt to find it. Finally, feeling it but unable to see the display, he fumbled for the send button, knowing that Detective Romo had been the last person he called. He pushed it twice.
Hoping that the skylight had opened enough for him to escape, he jumped on the bed and reached through the opening, pulling his body up with his arms. When he was halfway out, he began hearing shots and saw flashes of light in the dust as Fatih began blasting aimlessly.
Crouching down on the bow of the boat, he saw Vincent’s lifeless body. The white deck was covered with deep red blood. Luke could clearly see the bullet hole in Vincent’s forehead, and when he moved closer he was horrified to see that the entire back of Vincent’s head was gone. In anguish, he stood and ran to the small railing surrounding the bow. Hearing another shot, his heart pounded as he saw Fatih halfway out of the skylight, pointing the gun directly at him. He had no choice but to jump. Looking quickly at the frozen water, he didn’t hesitate. He pushed off hard enough to reach the thick ice, away from the boat’s aerated perimeter. Landing hard, he felt the wind knocked out of him. As he struggled to recover, he saw Fatih’s monstrous eyes looking down at him from the boat. Staggering up, he began running full speed away from the yacht. Suddenly, he felt a burning sensation in his left hamstring; he knew he was hit. He reached down to grab his leg and confirmed what he already knew. His hand was drenc
hed in blood.
He heard a loud grunt behind him as Fatih landed on the ice. Terrified, Luke looked back to see that Fatih was catching up. With his injured leg he was no match, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he was dead. He pleaded to God for help. Knowing that Fatih was just feet behind him, he was puzzled that he hadn’t yet shot. Suddenly, he saw Fatih’s gun slide past him on the slick ice. Bewildered, he stopped and turned. Fatih had somehow fallen through the same ice that Luke had just run across. Each time Fatih tried to hoist himself out, the ice around him fractured as if it were paper thin. Snatching the gun at his feet, Luke pointed it at Fatih, who was screaming in agony in the freezing water. Thinking about Aaron’s death and overcome with anger, Luke aimed at Fatih’s head and slowly squeezed the trigger.
Immediately consumed with remorse, Luke flung the gun away, extended his arms, and began to plead for forgiveness both for himself and Fatih. Interrupted by the sound of a nearby helicopter, he took off his belt and pulled it tightly around his upper thigh. Dizzy from fear, the cold air, and loss of blood, Luke staggered toward shore but fell and passed out after taking a few steps.
LUKE’S EYES FLUTTERED OPEN. He was surprised to see Deborah, not God. She was sitting in a chair, bent over, with her head lying on the side of his hospital bed. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he quietly watched her sleep and wondered what had happened. Hearing him stir, she gradually opened her eyes, which immediately filled with tears when she saw him looking back at her. Quickly standing, she shoved her chair aside and leaned over to hug him, carefully making sure that she didn’t disturb the needles and tubes in his arms.
When she released her grasp, he mumbled, “Is everyone safe?” Tears fell from her eyes as she said, “Everyone except for Vincent and the cabdriver Fatih killed.” Luke was still groggy from anesthesia, but he silently wept as he thought about his friend from the Cape. A nurse walked into the room and excitedly asked, “How long has he been awake?”
“About five minutes,” Deb answered.
The nurse bent down and said, “Father Luke, it’s a true honor to have you in our hospital.”
Confused, he simply said, “Thank you.”
As the nurse walked out, Luke was surprised to see a police officer standing by the doorway.
“Deborah, what’s going on? How long have I been here?”
She smiled. “You were brought here last night. It’s late afternoon now. They had to operate on your leg, but everything is going to be fine.”
Tired and groggy, he closed his heavy eyes again.
The next time Luke awakened, his parents were in the room. Uncharacteristically, his father came over to the side of his bed and grabbed his hand. No words were spoken, but the expression on his father’s face alone was enough to assure Luke that all the past disapprovals and disappointments in him were gone. His mother looked on, crying tears of joy that her husband had finally forgiven her youngest son.
Out of nowhere, Luke asked, “Is he dead?”
They didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. Luke’s father spoke up. “Your brother’s killer is alive, but the cops have him and he will pay.”
Still exhausted, Luke closed his eyes again.
The next morning, Luke was feeling stronger as he lay in bed and watched the sun rise outside his window. He reached for the television remote and pressed the power button several times, but it wouldn’t turn on. When a nurse walked in he said, “Good morning, do you know when I can get out of here?”
“No, but the doctor will be in to see you sometime this morning.”
He tried the remote again. “Also, can you please have my television turned on?”
She hesitated and stammered, “I’m sorry. The orders were for no TV.”
Before Luke could question her, she quickly hurried out. Again, he noticed a police officer outside his room.
A few hours later, Deborah appeared, and Luke asked, “Deb, what’s going on? They won’t let me watch TV.”
She sighed and leaned over to press the call button by his bed. Immediately, Luke’s private nurse, Tasha, arrived, and Deborah asked, “Can you please help me move his bed to the window?”
They carefully positioned his bed so he could see and drew back the drapes. Looking out the window, Luke was amazed.
A CROWD HAD GATHERED on the street in front of the hospital. Police cars lined the entrances. It looked like the last time the pope had visited Boston. Innocently, Luke asked, “What are they doing here?”
Tasha and Deb looked at each other and laughed. Tasha said, “They’re all here to see you!”
Confused, he asked, “For catching Fatih?”
Deborah explained, “Luke, you’re a national hero.”
“What do you mean?”
Ignoring his question, she said, “Monsignor Swiger and the bishop are waiting to see you.”
“The bishop? What does he have to do with this?”
Ignoring him again, Deborah opened the door and the two men rushed to Luke’s bedside.
Swiger spoke first. “Father Luke, thank God you’re safe.”
Luke smiled. The bishop added, “I am truly blessed to finally meet you.”
Luke was mystified. Why all the fuss? Sensing this, Deborah walked over to the bed and handed him a folder from her tote bag. As he opened it, she said, “These pictures were taken from a medical helicopter that had passed over you after dropping two accident victims at the hospital.”
Luke stared in disbelief. The first picture showed Luke running across the ice with Fatih following. The second photo was of Luke’s bloody footprints on the snow-covered ice. The next one showed Luke looking at his blood-soaked hand, with Fatih directly behind him. Flipping to the next picture, Luke was stunned. Fatih had fallen through the ice, and Luke was standing over him, praying with his arms outstretched to his sides. The combination of the dark red blood in the pure white snow, along with the full moon, gave the photo an unnerving appearance. But what he saw next was even more shocking.
With his arms outstretched and the moon to his back, a dark shadow in the shape of a cross was cast on the bright snow-covered ice. The way Fatih was positioned made it appear that he was clutching the cross in an attempt to be saved. The blood, the moonlight, the cross, and the gun at Luke’s feet created a scene that was unearthly. Hollywood couldn’t have done a better job.
Bishop Dunne spoke up. “Luke, these pictures have been in every newspaper. Many people believe that they show the triumph of Christianity over Islam, since the Muslim man is grasping the cross in an attempt to be saved. Of course, the Muslim community denounces this. This is the biggest religious event in the world.”
Confused again, Luke said, “But, it’s just a few pictures.”
Both priests looked at Deborah.
She grabbed his hand and took a deep breath. “There’s more to it, Luke. The crime scene investigators have determined that the only explanation is that as you ran on the ice away from the boat, the water changed from a mixture of fresh and salt to all salt. Because of this, the farther you ran, the thinner the ice became.” Luke remembered what Vincent had told him. “In the spot where you were standing, the ice was less than half an inch thick. Fatih is much shorter than you and weighs at least twenty-five pounds less.” Stating the obvious, she continued, “Don’t you see? He fell through the ice and you didn’t. When the police helicopter rescued you, they said that every piece of ice they touched was so thin that it shattered, and yet you inexplicably lay on top of it. People around the world are calling it a miracle.”
She reached into her bag and handed Luke a newspaper. The front page showed the picture of Luke praying over Fatih and the headline read: “Miracle on Ice!” The bishop interjected. “Luke, even when you passed out, the force of your fall didn’t break the ice.” Deborah handed him another newspaper. This time the headline read, “He Walks on Water!” The subheading read, “Second Coming?”
Luke scoffed. “This is crazy. It was just luck.”
He smiled. “Father, you’re a very lucky man. Most people don’t understand that getting shot in the leg can be very serious and is often fatal. The femoral artery in the leg is one of the largest arteries in the entire body, second only to the aorta that leads directly to the heart. The pressure in the femoral artery is enormous. There have been reports of blood shooting over six feet when that artery is severed, and in most cases the victim dies in a matter of seconds.”
Wanting him to get to the point, Luke asked, “Was my artery hit?”
“Yes, but the bullet actually lodged in it and stopped you from bleeding to death. Because Fatih was so close to you when you were shot, the bullet was still extremely hot when it entered your body. The hot slug actually cauterized your artery. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this happening before. Only a few strands of artery tissue held it together. If they had snapped, the artery would have contracted and retracted into your body. Once that had happened, you would have died seconds later. If Fatih was farther away when he pulled the trigger, the bullet probably wouldn’t have been hot enough to cauterize the wound.”
Now stunned, Luke was convinced that God had been with him on the ice.
Deborah nodded to the doctor, who continued, “When I gave the police the bullet I had extracted from your leg during surgery, they explained that it was a hollow point; it’s meant to splinter upon impact. You, Vincent Russo, and the taxi driver were shot with bullets from the same gun. The slugs that killed them splintered, but yours didn’t. If it had, you would be dead.” He added, “I’m a Jew, Father Luke, but I must say that when I think about everything that’s happened to you, there’s no rational explanation for you still being alive. It truly is a miracle.”