by C. L. Wells
Ever since he’d had that bout with cancer, Nick had been pondering what his legacy would be after he was gone. He knew that Mia loved him. Since Sasha had entered his life, he had come to know that Sasha loved him. But beyond those two relationships, what would there be in the world when he was gone that was a result of his having lived his life? Money? Many people had money. In and of itself, it meant little. A business? His businesses consisted largely of gambling, both legal and illegal, as well as a healthy real-estate portfolio – hardly what he considered a worthy legacy.
He supposed that Sasha’s challenge was fortuitous. He realized in that moment that she had just helped provide the answer he had been looking for. He decided it was time to take the plunge and take action instead of simply pondering the possibilities. He looked back at Sasha.
“What, exactly, did you have in mind?”
“Well, I have a few ideas. One was a scholarship fund for medical students, a possible grant program for research on renal disease and cancer treatments. There are a lot of things we could do. Are you interested?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I am,” Nick replied, almost as astonished as Sasha to hear the words coming out of his own mouth. “But we should discuss it with Mia first. If we are going to do this, we need to make the decision as a team.”
Sasha was beaming. She ran around behind the desk and gave Nick a big hug.
“Thanks, Nick, you’ve just made my day!”
“And you’ve just made mine,” he said as he returned the hug.
Nick and Sasha talked it over with Mia when she returned to the house for the day. She liked the idea of doing something to help eradicate the diseases that had taken Sasha’s mother and almost taken the love of her life away from her. It was a way to fight back, and Mia had always been a fighter. She had never been one to just sit around and do nothing when faced with a challenge.
She and Nick had a private and more serious discussion later that day. They decided to begin phasing out their illegal enterprises in favor of legitimate businesses in gambling and real-estate. Nick came up with a plan that would accomplish the task in a little over a year. They decided that there was no reason to continue to run the risk of getting sent to jail for mere money’s sake. They would remain millionaires by virtue of the income from their legitimate businesses alone.
They established the Katrina Beyer’s Foundation for Public Good with an initial endowment of seventy-five million dollars. The money was invested, and the grants and scholarships would come out of the earnings, not the principle, so that the foundation could continue to operate indefinitely. Sasha decided that she was going to major in business with an emphasis on non-profit management when she went to college in the fall, so that she could take an active role in managing the foundation.
On spring break, as promised, Sasha traveled to the Grand Cayman Islands to spend the week with J.T. Nick insisted that her bodyguard accompany her. J.T. and Sasha had a great time and Sasha discovered that she shared a passion for sailing with her dad. They worked out a plan where Sasha would come and visit a few times a year. J.T. hated to see her leave at the end of the week, but he was pleased to know that she would be pursuing her plans for the foundation. He was as proud as a father could be.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Silas McGruder, alias Bob Conner, came in the door of his Nassau, Bahamas home whistling one of his favorite songs. He was riding high after a good night at the blackjack tables at the Crystal Palace Casino. He’d gone in with ten thousand dollars and was coming home with fifty thousand. It didn’t matter right now that, over the last few months, he had racked up a net loss of one hundred thousand dollars. Right now, he was on top of the world.
He went into his office and opened up the closet door, revealing a large safe. He placed the briefcase containing his winnings on the ground and kept whistling while he worked the dial of the combination lock. He turned the handle and opened the safe to reveal stacks of one hundred dollar bills. He smiled even more as he removed the money from his briefcase and began putting it in the safe.
Suddenly, he heard a door creak somewhere in the house. He quickly reached into the safe and grabbed a .45 caliber revolver before spinning around and bringing the gun up to firing position. He slowly got up and began working his way over to the office door. Besides the light in the office, there was a single lamp on in the living room, as well as the light in the kitchen range hood. It was too dark for comfort, but he couldn’t exactly run around flipping light switches now.
He cleared the doorway as quietly as he could, looking first one way, then the other. The back part of the house was completely dark. He was taking a chance either way, but he guessed whoever or whatever had made the sound was probably in the front part of the house. He went left out of the office, moving as quietly as he could, his gun at the ready.
He heard a sound in the kitchen, just ahead and to his right. He quickly stepped forward and brought the revolver around, using the door frame for cover. When he did, he saw the neighbor’s cat jump down from the counter. He let out a sigh of relief and lowered the gun.
“You almost scared the crap out of me, Melvin,” he said as he tucked the gun behind his back and into his waistband.
He picked up the cat and walked over to the door, opening it and tossing the cat outside. He locked the door and began walking back towards the office to finish what he had begun a few minutes before. He had taken one step into the office when something hit him hard in the side of the thigh, causing his knee to buckle. He cried out in pain as he dropped to one knee.
He reached behind him to grab the gun in his waistband, only to have someone grab his wrist and twist it behind his back. He felt the gun being removed as he was shoved forward onto the floor.
“The money is in the safe; you can take it all, just let me live,” he said to his yet unseen attacker.
“Turn around,” a voice behind him said.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position and turned around slowly. As he saw Mia Bartonovich standing before him with his own revolver trained on him, his eyes widened in fear.
“How did you find me?” he said, shocked that he had been tracked down. He had been so careful.
“It’s very hard to completely disappear. First, I found out the name of your alias, and then I waited for you to contact your ex-wife. I traced one of the calls you made to her and found it came from Nassau; then, all I had to do was show your picture around the casinos to find out where you were. You should have stopped gambling.”
“Son of a gun,” Silas said in disbelief.
“You should not have kidnapped my daughter! You should not have hit her!” Mia said, her voice growing louder with increasing emotion.
“I…I’m sorry about that, o.k., I wasn’t planning to hit her. I’m very sorry about that. Please, just take the money and go.”
Silas began bringing his knee up slowly as he talked, trying to get the backup pistol he had strapped to his ankle within reach without being noticed.
“You are just like my father. He used to hit me when I did not do what he wanted.”
“Look, I regret what I did, really. I lost my head and I’m very sorry. Will you please forgive me?”
He was close now, very close. If only he could get her distracted for a moment. Then, as if on cue, Mia tossed the gun into the far corner of the room. As soon as she let go of the gun, Silas went for his backup. He almost had it out of the holster when the telescopic baton that Mia carried slammed into the back of his hand, causing him to involuntarily release his grip on the handle of the gun.
He brought his other hand around and attempted to punch Mia in the stomach as she was standing in front of him. His punch never found its mark. Mia stepped inside of his swing and brought up her knee, catching him in his face and breaking his nose. Silas’ head snapped back as blood spurted out of his nose.
He quickly regained his balance and lunged forward with everything he had. It was a last-ditch effort to grab Mia and wrestl
e her to the ground, where he could use his size and physical strength to his advantage, but he was too slow. Mia stepped to the side and connected a side-kick to Silas’ head, sending him off of his trajectory and causing his head to slam into the door jamb. He crumpled to the floor and didn’t move.
Mia had already re-positioned herself for another offensive, but Silas remained motionless.
A few days later, Sasha came running into the kitchen, where Nick and Mia were just finishing up their morning coffee. She was ecstatic.
“You’ll never believe what just happened!” she exclaimed.
“Tell us, my dear,” Nick replied.
“An anonymous donor has just given 9.5 million dollars to our foundation!” she replied, barely able to contain herself.
“That’s wonderful, Sasha!” Mia responded.
“The weird thing is, we haven’t even been running a donation drive. I can’t figure it out,” Sasha continued.
“Well, I’m sure the word has gotten around the philanthropic community about the work we’ll be doing. I’m just happy there is someone who believes in the mission enough to write a check for the cause,” Nick said.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Mia agreed, taking a sip from her coffee.
Later that week, Nick Bartonovich was seated in his office perusing his email. He noticed an email from Mr. Watanabe – the man they frequently used to track down delinquent debtors. Inside the email were two sentences, followed by a link. The message read simply, “This will interest you. Not our doing though.” Nick clicked on the link and it brought up a story from the New York Times.
A man was found dead in his home in Nassau, Bahamas yesterday, the apparent victim of a robbery gone wrong. An undisclosed amount of money was missing from an open safe found near the body. The man has been identified as Silas McGruder, a former New York City policeman who was living in the Bahamas under the alias of Bob Conner. Police have no leads on who may have committed the crime at this time.
Nick raised an eyebrow in interest. Well, that’s one potential problem we don’t need to worry about any more, he thought to himself. He forwarded the article to Mia before moving on to other emails.
******************** THE END ********************
The following is a preview of the new book The Seer: book 1 in the Supernatural Gift series, by author C.L. Wells. For information on how to obtain further FREE preview chapters of this book, please visit http://fictionwithamission.com/ebooks/
CHAPTER ONE
Waves crashed against the rocks in a deafening chorus of nature’s fury as the sea lashed the Tillamook Lighthouse mercilessly. The storm had been in full force for about an hour now and Dan Moses was hoping the generator house wouldn’t get flooded again. Occasionally, one of the really big waves would hit and he’d feel the vibrations from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.
He had retreated to the main keeper’s quarters where he sat in his favorite chair, waiting out the tempest that raged outside. He’d given up on reading, which was what he usually did to wait out the lesser storms that frequented the area. As the next big wave hit and he felt the ground beneath him shake, he remembered one of the stories he had read about in the history of the lighthouse, from the great storm of 1934. During that storm, the lighthouse had been repeatedly submerged by the onslaught of waves. Sixty-pound boulders had been spewed forth from the ocean and crashed through the roof of the lighthouse. The watch room had been repeatedly flooded, the water rising up to the necks of the watchmen before finally draining out of the entrance door to the tower below them. They had been unable to leave the tower for the duration of the storm, which had lasted four days. Dan hoped this storm wouldn’t escalate to that level. At almost sixty, he was getting too old for this.
Suddenly the violent assault of the waves ceased. The wind continued to howl as it forced its way around the buildings and he could hear the rain falling, but not a single wave could be heard hitting the shore or crashing into the lighthouse tower. Dan opened his eyes and sat up straight. He sensed a presence he hadn’t felt in decades and he was instantly afraid. Seconds before he would have laughed at the idea that there was another living soul on this island besides himself. Now he was just as certain that he was no longer alone. He strained to hear anything that might indicate where his visitor could be.
Dan slowly pushed himself up from his chair and backed up against the wall, looking from side to side as he did so. He startled himself as his back touched the wall and then exhaled in relief when he realized what he had done. When a knock came at the door, he snapped to attention once more.
Slowly crossing the room, he drew back the bolt on the door. He reached down and grasped the door handle. As he briefly closed his eyes, he inhaled and exhaled slowly to brace himself for what he was about to encounter. Reluctantly, but with finality, he opened his eyes and turned the door knob.
Before he could open the door of his own accord, the wind blew it open, hurling him back onto the floor. As he turned back towards the door, the lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating a hulking figure as it crossed the threshold and took a step towards where he lay. He brought an arm up defensively as he let out a startled cry, but the figure advanced no further. Instead, a large hand reached down and took hold of his own, effortlessly pulling him to his feet.
Dan stood and stared at the figure before him, unsure of what was going to happen next. It was the Keeper, just as he had suspected. Their first encounter had been a violent one that Dan wasn’t anxious to repeat. He stared at the Keeper’s face unblinkingly and waited.
The Keeper held Dan’s hand and stared back at him. At six foot seven, with shoulders wide enough to fill the largest of doorways, the Keeper towered over Dan. He was bald on the top of his head, with a white, closely cropped beard covering his face. His visage was stern-looking and his eyes were crystal blue. As the Keeper held his gaze, Dan suddenly felt as if this being could peer into his very soul. He felt naked, terrified, and mesmerized all at the same time, unable to look away.
After several seconds, Dan found the courage to speak.
“Why are you here?”
“Another Seer has been chosen,” came the reply. The Keeper’s voice was just as he had remembered it. Commanding, firm, with a strange and other-worldly accent that he had never heard before anywhere else.
The Keeper turned and shut the door, locking the bolt in place. He turned back around and gently guided Dan back to the chair he had been sitting in previously and motioned for him to sit down.
“He will come to you seeking answers. Tell him what you know.”
“When… when will he come?”
“Soon.”
“What is his mission?” Dan asked.
“That is not your concern.”
“How will I know him?”
“He will tell you that he has seen me.”
As he thought back over the moment days later, Dan wasn’t quite certain what happened next. The only thing he knew for sure was that the Keeper was suddenly gone and the storm had returned in all of its fury. In the days following the storm, he wondered who the new Seer was and what he had been chosen to do.
The pictures spread out before him on the table were proof enough. Susan was cheating on him. A younger man, some would say handsome, was holding his wife the same way he’d used to hold her not so long ago. He should have seen this coming. But a drug dealer? Really, she should have been more discreet. He glanced up at the detective sitting across from him, wondering what was going through his mind.
“So, how much is she spending on the drugs every week?” he said, trying to direct the conversation away from the embarrassing photos.
“About a grand from what I can tell,” the detective replied.
“What is it?”
“The drug?”
“Yeah, the drug.”
“Cocaine.”
They had used cocaine recreationally at parties in the past, but they had never been regular
users. Now, apparently, cocaine had become Susan’s go-to entertainment and emotional pain killer.
“You know,” he said rhetorically, “she says my job is my second wife. I guess I should have seen this coming.”
The detective remained silent.
When he’d hired a private investigator to find out just how bad her drug habit really was, he hadn’t expected to find that another man was sleeping with his wife. His original plan was for a sort of intervention. He would confront her with the evidence, and give her an ultimatum to clean up. But that was before. Now this other man had to be dealt with first.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Twenty-five hundred.”
He paid the private investigator for his services and waited for him to leave, and then he took out his cell phone and speed-dialed the man who would help him handle this little situation.
Samuel J. Pendleton had not risen to his present height of power by sheer business acumen. One of his early risks had been to tap in to the lucrative world of money laundering. In the process of building up his list of clientele for these services he had become acquainted with numerous influential members of the criminal community. None of these was more influential than Martin “the Hammer” Scalini. He waited as the phone rang for the third time. The man who answered the call spoke in a crisp, high-pitched voice and reminded Samuel of the florist he frequently spoke to when he wanted to send flowers to his mistress.
“Mr. Scalini’s office, how can I help you?”
“Bobby, this is Samuel Pendleton. I need to speak to Martin.”
“One moment please.”
Samuel waited on hold for about thirty seconds before hearing Martin’s deep voice come on the line.
“Sammy! How’s the world of high finance treating you these days? No problems with any of my interests, I hope.”