The Simpatico Series Box Set (3 books in 1)

by Dermot Davis

  “If it makes you feel any better the man was scum,” he said with bitterness. “He ran his company like a sick dictatorship. Treated his employees like slaves and was about to release a product that threatened the extinction of half the sea life in every ocean on earth,” Simon said with what sounded like a justified anger.

  As if becoming more heartened by Simon’s reasoning, Andrew slowly raised his head.

  “We couldn’t let him do that,” he continued, like he was describing an act of goodness. “We care too much about all life on this planet to let a madman like that destroy it like it was his… personal lab project. The economy of entire countries would have been destroyed. Whole populations in island nations would have starved. The eco balance of the entire food chain compromised and threatened. Whole species annihilated to extinction.”

  “I see,” Andrew said gently when Simon had paused.

  “Don’t waste any more thoughts or remorse on a villainous piece of scum like that,” Simon said like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “You and everyone involved did the world a favor,” he said reassuringly. “And remember, it wasn’t just you or any one person. It was a group achievement. Hold your head high, son. What we do here is about justice. It’s about goodness. And sometimes it hurts to do good.”

  “That… makes me feel a lot better, thank you,” Andrew said, hoping to quickly end their chat and remove himself from the scene.

  “The first lesson is always the hardest,” Simon continued in a philosophical tone. “But what you’ll come to understand is that there is no compromise with the darkness. There is only one way to deal with evil and that is to say no. No, no, no, no, no,” he said emphatically. “Evil rears its ugly head, you stop it swiftly in its tracks. There can be no discussion or compromise. Death to evil!” he said, slapping the desk with his open palm like he was swatting an insect. “There is no other way.”

  Unnerved by Simon’s diatribe, Andrew stood up. “I appreciate the talk,” he said, like he was finally going to sleep much better. “Forget what I asked,” he said, like he was now feeling terribly embarrassed.

  “Oh, not another word,” Simon waved at the air. “What conversation, right?” he asked with a knowing grin that aimed to cheer up his protégé.

  “Yeah,” Andrew said, allowing a reluctant smile. “What conversation?” he joked. “Will I leave it open?” he asked when he pulled open the door and allowed the boisterousness from outside to once again intrude.

  “Yeah, leave it open,” Simon said, like he didn’t particularly want it but it was necessary nevertheless. “We’ve got work to do!” he said and smiled paternally. “You’re doing a terrific job, son.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Oh, one other thing,” Simon called him back.

  “Yes, sir?” Andrew turned and walked back a few paces.

  “Your court case is coming up,” Simon said, leafing through his calendar to find the date.

  “In two weeks,” Andrew said like he was counting off the days.

  “Then you’ve got your initiation the week after that,” Simon said, flicking the page.

  “Yes,” Andrew said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  “Things are happening fast for you, son, as I suspected that they would.”

  “Yes,” Andrew answered as he wondered if he should turn back around and leave.

  “We’re expecting a visitor soon,” Simon then said, sitting back in his chair. “A very important visitor, from the UK,” he said pensively. “England to be precise. My home country.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “She’s the head of the UK serpents order,” he said and it sounded like even he was impressed. “Which makes her head of all the US fraternities.”

  “Wow, sir,” Andrew said, struggling to play the role of an impressed rookie.

  “Play your cards right and you just might get an introduction,” Simon said with a scheming smile. “No promises,” he then added.

  “That would be… wow,” Andrew said.

  “Just to give you an idea of a possible future for yourself,” Simon said, returning upright in his chair like he had jangled just enough of a tempting carrot before him.

  “I’m very excited,” Andrew said, turning to leave. “Thank you.”

  “Talent and hard work always gets rewarded, son. I’m just the facilitator.”

  Chapter 8

  With his mind paralyzed in the grips of an overwhelming shock, Andrew could scarcely concentrate on anything work-related for the rest of the morning. “We have a situation,” he said to Fiona when he called her on his cell phone during his lunch break.

  “What situation?” she asked, half-thinking that he was impersonating an actor from a TV crime show.

  “I can’t talk now but we need to get together, ASAP,” he said, looking cautiously over his shoulder at the faces of people as they walked past in the street.

  “Okay,” she said, still waiting for him to land the punch line.

  “Can you get over to my mom’s house after work?” he asked.

  “Are you being serious now?” she asked.

  “Of course I’m being serious,” he said with the utmost gravity. “We need to talk.”

  “I’ll be there,” she said, holding off on asking any further questions.

  “Make sure you’re not being followed,” he then said as an afterthought.

  “Seriously?” she asked, like he was beginning to sound like an idiot.

  “Just be careful,” he advised, “and whatever you do, not a word to your father, understand?”

  “Whatever,” Fiona said, clearly starting to lose her patience as she hung up.

  Andrew spent the rest of the day acting like he was okay with everything and no longer had a care in the world. He may have imagined it but he felt like Simon was taking it easy on him and being softer and less demanding than usual. At one point he definitely received an understanding look from Simon, as if Simon was communicating to him that he could feel his pain and sympathized with his concern for all of humanity. In a strange way it was as if the weird talk that they had shared had made Simon feel closer to him.

  Unsure exactly when Andrew was going to return to his mom’s place from his job, Fiona arrived at the house early. With an especially friendly welcome from Angela, Fiona was invited to sit with her in the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a chat. “I don’t see you often enough, Fiona,” Angela said as she spooned the ground coffee into the coffee maker. “What a treat to have you in our little humble abode!”

  “Oh, it’s not so humble,” Fiona said but wasn’t sure of her own meaning and hurried to cover up her conversational faux pas. “How have you been?” she asked quickly.

  “Work at the hospital keeps me busy,” she said as she looked pained trying to find a clean and suitable cup into which to pour Fiona’s coffee. “How is your father?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “He’s… he’s real busy too,” Fiona answered, like she had to think about it. “He had a great time with you all when we went out to dinner that time,” she said, like she was scrambling to find something nice to say.

  “Oh, I had the best time,” Angela said, pausing in her work to cherish the memory. “The best time,” she repeated as a huge smile broke out on her face. “We should all do that again,” she said with relish. “I liked it when your dad said that we were all family, after all.”

  “Yes,” Fiona agreed to be nice.

  “Sugar?”

  “Just cream for me, please,” Fiona answered, terrifically relieved to see Andrew walk through the kitchen door from the small driveway. “Hi, sweetheart!” she called out, running to great him with a hug and a kiss.

  “Am I glad to see you,” Andrew said, hugging her tightly. “And my mom,” he added, pulling her into a group hug, which Angela thoroughly enjoyed.

  “Oh, my,” Angela then said, breaking away. “I’m going to leave you two lovebirds to…” she said, not finishing the sentence. “Lovely to see you
, honey,” she said to Fiona as she switched on the TV in the living room. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t,” Fiona said, turning her head but still hanging onto her lover boy. “What’s going on?” she then asked a serious-looking Andrew.

  “Upstairs,” Andrew said seriously like he wasn’t in the mood for any funny business.

  Upon entering his bedroom, Fiona sat on the side of his small bed and looked at him expectantly. “You were right and I was wrong,” he said as he gently closed the door and stood looking at her as if he wasn’t sure if he should sit on the bed beside her or on the sole chair in the room that was currently acting as a clothes rack.

  “Right about what?” she asked.

  “Your father, the organization, the serpent group, everything,” he said, gathering the assorted clothing from the chair so that he could sit himself down. “Your father pretty much confessed to me today.”

  “Confessed what?”

  “What you’ve been talking about all along!” Andrew insisted like he shouldn’t have to explain. “The black magic stuff: it’s real,” he said like he could barely believe it himself. “He admitted that they killed this business guy that was standing in the way of their takeover or their merger or whatever, by the sounds of it,” he said with wearied concern. “Justified it by saying that the guy was a scumbag and was killing all the fish in the ocean or some shit.”

  Fiona leaned back to rest her body against the headboard and looked at her boyfriend with a mix of love, puzzlement and concern. “My father the eco-warrior,” she said for lack of a more meaningful response.

  “I’m serious, Fi,” Andrew said and looked at her as if he expected a different kind of response. “And get this,” he then said, as if he just remembered. “When they said at the interview that no one leaves the company? They weren’t saying it like their employees were so happy; they were stating company policy. No one is allowed to leave the organization.”

  “How can they not allow anyone from leaving if they want to?” Fiona asked like it was the craziest thing, ever. “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “I don’t know,” Andrew said, like he was so confused about the situation, he was out of his depth. “I should think so.”

  “So, what would they do if someone actually did leave?” she asked.

  “Haven’t you been listening?” Andrew asked like she was asking all the wrong questions. “They use black magic to kill people,” Andrew said slowly and clearly.

  “If you left, they’d kill you?” she asked, shocked at the thought.

  “I don’t know, Fi,” he said, standing up like he was feeling exasperated by her lack of understanding. “Maybe, probably, I don’t know? We should ask the last person that quit their job and left the building.”

  “You know somebody that did that?”

  “No, Fiona, I do not. I was making a joke,” he said like he was at the end of his rope. “If someone did manage to leave I suspect that they most likely died of a heart attack or some other mysterious circumstance soon after, what the heck do I know?” he yelled in a hushed voice, his arms raised to the ceiling.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, like he should chill already. “The company and my father are pure evil, I get it.”

  Realizing that she always managed to disarm him when he was angry or upset, a smile broke out on his face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You always do this,” he said, his whole demeanor lightening up. “I could tell you that the sky is falling and you’d say something like, ‘Oh, look, a pretty flower,’ or something completely outa left field. It’s maddening,” he said, like he secretly thought that it was adorable.

  “So, what are we going to do?” she asked as if she didn’t register his compliment.

  “I’ve no idea,” he said, finally sitting beside her on the bed. “I don’t think I’ve come to terms with it, just yet; like I’m not sure what it all means, you know?”

  “Yes,” she said, even though she didn’t. Running her fingers through his hair and scalp, she massaged away his stress.

  “We’re in over our heads here,” he then said, like he was getting a handle on their situation. “We need to talk to someone that knows about this stuff. We need help.”

  “I don’t know anyone,” Fiona said as she stroked the tense muscles at the back of his neck. “Professor Dowling, maybe?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Andrew said with a grimace. “Not sure if he knows about the stuff we’re talking about, though,” he said despondently. “There is someone that claims to know about all this stuff but I’m not sure how mentally balanced he actually is,” he said, like he really didn’t want to go there.

  “Someone from work?”

  “No,” Andrew answered with a reluctant grin. “Someone from prison. Maybe he’s not such a raving lunatic, after all, but who the heck knows anymore?”

  Taking a long lunch, Andrew took a taxi to his old stomping grounds, the Los Angeles Penitentiary. Just like before, Andrew stood in line behind a mass of fellow visitors; some of them entire families of an inmate. When he finally got to the window and asked permission to visit Henry, the female guard spent an inordinate amount of time clicking on her keyboard in-between quizzical-looking glances at the computer screen.

  “That person is no longer in our system,” she said, her eyes still looking at the monitor. “Looks like maybe he was here but…” she paused and took a good luck at the expensive suit Andrew was wearing. “You his attorney?” she asked.

  “Uh, huh,” Andrew grunted, knowing that his answer could be interpreted in many different ways. Luckily for him, she interpreted his grunts to mean that, yes, he was the prisoner’s attorney, thank you very much.

  “You might want to check out county hospital,” she said, turning her body towards him, her typing all done.

  “He had an accident?”

  “Looks that way,” she answered like she was bored already.

  “Thank you,” Andrew said and noticed that she seemed to be waiting for another question before moving her eyes to the next person in line. “You have a floor number? The sixth?” he asked, remembering where he had been once placed.

  “Don’t have a floor number but you might want to ask for a Hank Wenster when you get there,” she said as if expecting him to understand.

  “Hank Wenster, gotcha,” Andrew said and made a point of looking at his non-existent watch like his time was very precious. “Thank you,” he said and hurried off.

  As he rushed over to County hospital by foot, Andrew wondered what kind of ‘accident’ Henry might have been involved with. Hoping that he didn’t fall foul of the same kind of gang activity that almost took his own life, Andrew made a silent wish for his welfare.

  “Hank Wenster,” Andrew said when the kindly-looking male receptionist looked up at him with a welcoming smile.

  His smile soon vanished, however, when he typed on his keyboard and while reading the screen a frown developed across his brow. “I’m afraid I have no one of that name registered,” he said, neglecting to ask for a correct spelling or any other pertinent information.

  “I see,” Andrew said, suspecting that the computer screen may have issued some kind of warning or restriction regarding the visiting of prison inmates. “Not even for his attorney?” he asked, letting him know by his question that Andrew was aware of the sensitivity.

  “I’m afraid not,” the receptionist answered as he placed his hands together as if to indicate, end of story.

  “Fair enough,” Andrew said amiably. “Thanks for your help.”

  Andrew turned and made a show of letting the clerk see him leave through the main sliding glass doors of the hospital. Once outside, he turned and waved. He then strolled around the corner and walked towards the rear where he knew he could gain entry through the Emergency Department. Walking straight to the banks of elevators, he had a good idea that he would find Henry somewhere on the sixth floor.

  Disembarking from the elevator, he was t
hankful that the foot traffic was busy and between the visitors, busy nurses and doctors, no one cared enough to notice that he wasn’t wearing a visitor’s badge. He even walked straight past a security officer who didn’t suspect that a man in an expensive suit could be someplace where he had no authorization.

  Using his smartphone as a distraction, he placed it to his ear and occasionally spoke into it as if he was on an important call. While doing so, he paused occasionally to take a good look through the windows and doors of each of the wards. Seeing a hospital patient that looked like it might be Henry, he entered the ward to take a better look.

  Seeing a guard at the far end of the ward, walking towards a vacant chair that was placed by the wall near the patient’s bed, Andrew was pretty convinced that he had found his man. Acting like he belonged there, he approached the bed and smiled when he saw the face of Henry turn towards him. It looked like he had gotten a good beating; his body and head were wrapped in bandages and his face was a bruised mess of colors.

  “How are you doing, bud?” Andrew said with a smile. Keeping his distance so as not to incur the wrath or the suspicions of the approaching guard, he adopted the demeanor of a hospital official.

  Henry looked up at Andrew slowly and deliberately. As if seeing someone that he considered a threat or maybe even a monster from his worst nightmares, his eyes opened wide with fear. “Get away from me,” he threatened in a low and terrified voice. “Get away from me, now!” he said louder.

  “Henry, it’s me, Andrew,” he said, thinking that maybe Henry was too doped up on drugs to recognize him.

  “Get this man away from me now!” Henry then yelled, attracting attention from everyone in the ward with a working pair of ears. “I never want to see this man in here, ever again!”

  “Henry?” Andrew said weakly as the guard grabbed hold of his arm. “What the—?” he said as he was being pulled away.

  “Sir, come with me,” the guard said, tightening his already firm hold on Andrew’s arm.

  “Let me go, I’m his attorney,” Andrew said as he was being pulled away. Looking back at the look on Henry’s fearful face, his eyes wide with fear, affected Andrew to the point that he really did want to leave. Why would Henry fear him in this way, he wondered as he was led to the elevators by the guard.