by Dermot Davis
"Why exactly is Fiona in danger... from her aunt?" Andrew asked dryly.
"Don't concern yourself, old son. I'll take care of it. Family business."
"Whatever," Andrew said with a sulk. "I need to get back," he added as he checked the time. "You can get a cab back to the Palisades, I'm keeping the car," he said as he removed the car key from the set of house keys that he placed in front of Simon. "You can let me in later, when I finally get done fighting in the trenches, after work."
"You're a good lad," Simon said, typing faster to finish his work to his satisfaction. "And I have one other subject to discuss with you, well, ask your permission about, I suppose."
"Ask my permission about what?"
Taking his eyes from the screen, as he shut down the computer, Simon adopted an uncharacteristic bashful demeanor. "Your mother and I have become close this past while," Simon said and paused and appeared to blush. Andrew stared and his eyes grew wide.
"Are you kidding me?" Andrew asked, intuiting the question.
"She came to visit, whenever her work schedule permitted, and I must say, over time, I came to look forward to her visits with increasing pleasure and anticipation."
"No," Andrew said, his face scrunched up with a look of disgust.
"Now that I'm a free man… I'd like to take her out to dinner or a movie or whatever."
"You want to date my mom?" Andrew asked like it was a horrendous idea.
"I don't need your answer, just yet, perhaps you can think about it."
"I've thought about it already, and the answer is definitely no," Andrew said, his discomfort causing him to want to leave right away.
"Of course, I don't need your permission, per se, but it would be nice. I'm extending you the courtesy of informing you of my intentions, man to man. Thought it would be best for you to hear it now rather than later when things were already set in motion, so to speak."
"Ugh," Andrew groaned as he grabbed the laptop and shoved it into his briefcase. "You better not be setting me up with whatever shit you just typed in here," he said, referring to the laptop. "Just because you smile and talk nice doesn't make you a good person and us being friends doesn't mean I distrust you less."
"I'm so glad that we're friends, that you can be honest with me," Simon said and smiled. “I appreciate that.”
"You and your sister can both take the boat back to England, anytime you like, as far as I'm concerned. I think we'd all be better off, I know I would," were Andrew’s final departing words.
"Be careful with my sister," Simon warned the young man in a serious tone. "She's far wilier than I'd ever wish to be. And immeasurably more blood thirsty and lethal."
"I'll keep that in mind," Andrew said and left the coffee shop.
Simon spent a few hours of his regained freedom taking taxis here and there, taking care of personal business matters. Before arriving at the hotel, he purchased a large bouquet of flowers, making sure to handpick a selection of Fiona's favorites blossoms. Having secured the room number from a fellow colleague at work, he arrived on the fourth floor not knowing what kind of a reception he might receive. When he saw a suited gentleman seated outside of the room, he knew that he had found the right place. "I can't let you in," the gent said firmly.
Simon vaguely knew the chap but they weren’t friendly, even when Simon was still employed.
"Abigail is my sister, these are for my daughter and times are tough. If I were you, I wouldn't risk losing your job by getting in my way," Simon said quietly with a friendly smile.
"I have my orders," the man said, though Simon could see some doubt in his eyes.
"Of course you do. I'm told that you are exceptional at what you do but your orders were to keep the girl in, not to keep someone from the office out," Simon said in his firmest managerial voice, going on a hunch.
"I'll need to clear it with my superiors," the man said, looking ever more uncertain.
"You do that," Simon said as he walked past him without resistance. As Simon knocked on the door, the man whispered into his tiny hidden transmitter.
When the door opened, Fiona stood and stared in shock. Despite the fact that she was uncertain of her feelings for her father, she couldn't prevent a smile from breaking out on her face. Opening her arms wide to hug him, he scooped her up and, swinging her around, the large bouquet of flowers in her arms, he entered the room and closed the door with a foot.
"OMG… am I happy to see you!" she said, her face beaming with surprise and delight. "How did you get out of prison? No, I don't want to know," she then said quickly.
"Through the front gate, as it happens," Simon said to ease her concern. "I'm out on bail. A few hours ago, as a matter of fact."
"Well, hallelujah!" she said, lost for words. "I've missed you."
"I missed you too, sweetie-pie. How have you been?"
"I wouldn't know where to start," Fiona said wearily. "We have so much to talk about."
"Oh, these are for you," he said, realizing that he was still holding her bouquet. "All your favorites."
"I can see that," she said appreciatively. "They're beautiful," she said, taking the vivid bouquet. "Finally I get some flowers," she said jokingly as she looked around at Abigail's bouquet collection. "Here, these are just about dead," she said as she replaced a wilted bouquet in a ceramic vase with her own flowers.
"Abigail has an admirer?" Simon asked, checking out the other bouquets.
"Professor Dowling."
"Oh," Simon said, remembering well the man. "Odd little fellow."
"So, what's up?" Fiona asked, shrugging her shoulders. "Will we go out for tea or something?"
"I don't think they'd let you leave the hotel," Simon said casually. "Should we order a tray of tea and sandwiches?"
"What do you mean they wouldn't let me leave?" Fiona asked, looking puzzled and concerned.
"Oh," Simon said, realizing that she didn't know that she was a prisoner. "You haven't tried to leave yet?"
"We usually go out together, me and Abigail or when I do need to go out, they have someone... protect me."
"I see," Simon said thoughtfully. "Protect you from what?"
"I was abducted a while back. I don't want to talk about it now but it was pretty bad. Abigail's people found out where I was and saved me. I owe her big time."
"Hmm," Simon said, smelling a rat.
"What do you mean?" Fiona asked, her feathers ruffled.
"I'm not going to say," he said tactfully. "You don't want to hear what I think."
Now feeling uncomfortable as if a rift had suddenly re-opened up between them, Fiona sighed. "You never change, do you?" she asked tearfully. "I just told you that I was abducted and terrified for my life, thank you very much for asking, and all you can say is, 'Hmm?' What kind of a father are you anyway?"
Heaving a sigh of his own, Simon made an exasperated face. Pausing, for fear of saying something even more incendiary, he placed his hands on his hips and took another deep breath. “Abigail is not what she seems,” he finally said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure she set the whole thing up.”
"Is this where you tell me that I'm in serious danger because your sister might corrupt me or turn me against you?” Fiona fumed. “Is that what you're afraid of? Well, as a matter of fact, it might be too late for all that. Abigail has treated me more like family in a few days than you have in years and years, probably since I was born, actually."
"I don't want to argue," Simon said, with restrained anger. "I'm truly delighted to see you and I wish we could spend our time together more constructively. I love you, Fiona. I know you have a hard time believing that fact yet I truly do love you with all of my heart."
"You have a lousy way of showing it."
"I don't deny that fact. I've been a miserable father, I'm sorry."
"A bit late, now, don't you think?"
"How can I make it up to you?"
"Can you turn back time?"
"Aren't you being a little melodramatic?"
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Fiona paused and thought for a moment: was she? Had he really been a miserable father to her for as long as she could remember? Yes, there were some good memories and in many ways he did spoil and coddle her. She struggled to remember what it was exactly that she had found lacking in her childhood. What was the one thing that she could pinpoint and then articulate to him to indicate precisely how deprived she had felt as a growing child. "You never gave of yourself to me," she said, as if hitting on the essence of her grievances.
"What do you mean? I gave you everything a young girl would need. You wanted for nothing. In truth, you were spoiled rotten. You had become so entitled that you just didn't know how good you had it. If you had any idea of the hardships that I encountered when growing up, you might be more grateful. You have no idea," Simon said with hurt, his eyes narrowed with anger.
"That's just it," Fiona said and smiled sadly, "…right there. I have no idea of the hardships that you encountered growing up because you never cared enough to tell me. In fact, I have no idea of your life prior to my birth, nor indeed do I know anything of my mother, or even who my friggin' relatives are!"
"I can explain all of that."
"You may have given me every material thing known to man but what you neglected to give me was probably the most important and most vital thing necessary for me to grow up: a sense of who I am in relation to my blood, to my family. Without that, you may as well have brought me up in a fancy test tube in a sterile laboratory and, as a matter of fact, that pretty sums up how I have felt growing up in that vacuous house. I was all by myself, with no mother and no father to speak of, with no one to play with except some imaginary friends that dropped by to visit every now and again!"
"There was a good reason for my secrecy, believe me," Simon countered, looking pained and frustrated.
"Then I'd love to hear it!" Fiona said as she held her ground and crossed her arms over her chest.
"We'd both love to hear it," a voice said as they turned to see that Abigail had opened the door and stepped inside.
"I think you know the story very well already, my dear," Simon said dryly to his sister.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" Abigail asked Fiona as she approached with concern. "You look upset."
"Yes, thank you. My father has this effect on me sometimes."
"Have you come to see me or your daughter?" Abigail asked Simon. "Either way, you should know that it's common courtesy to make a phone call first. Escaped from prison, have we?"
"Your aunt only appears to be friendly and concerned," Simon warned his daughter. "But trust me, she would sell your vital organs in a second if she felt that it would improve her standing in the world."
"Oh, please," Abigail teased with a pitiful expression. "Your deceit and lies may fool the others out there but I think we know you better than that, don't we Fiona?"
"We certainly do," Fiona agreed.
"I don't think either of us can remember the last time you spoke more than three full sentences, one of which didn't contain a lie," Abigail commented.
"Yes, you're one to talk," Simon said snidely.
"I'm not the one who was imprisoned," Abigail countered smartly.
"Oh, please, you two," Fiona said impatiently.
"The only reason I ended up in prison… was because of you," Simon accused Abigail. "A tactical move on your part to get me out of the way, out of your way, as you‘ve now decided to extend your influence in the organization to this side of the Atlantic. Great Britain and continental Europe not enough for your ambitions, darling?"
"Oh, please, enough already," Fiona entreated.
"You were put in jail because you broke the law," Abigail said brusquely. "No one, and certainly not I, encouraged you to put your own name on every legal paper instead of that of the organization. I wouldn't be here, if it weren't for the likes of you and some of your cronies, the sheer quantity of your shenanigans and double dealing has already become legendary. I dare say they've heard of your self-serving antics as far away as Istanbul, for all I'm aware. You think I like being here in this godforsaken country? It has obviously changed you for the worse. You used to have principles once."
"Fine, go at each other, why don't you?" Fiona said as she plopped down onto the sofa in an act of surrender.
"Perhaps, I've grown up," Simon said belligerently. "What you understand as principles may have been simply my naïveté. I can see more clearly now than I did when I was an innocent idealist, ripe for the picking, ready to do my big sister’s dirty work. I know what you're doing, Abigail," he said with emphasis. "I can see now… what you and the organization stand for and, let me tell you, it's a far cry from what I thought initially you were all about; very far from it, as it happens."
"You may have been naïve but you were never innocent. You knew what you were signing up for and you knew the size of the pie that you wanted for yourself, Simon. You've never been happy that I stood in for daddy and you've resented me ever since. You're simply too stubborn and too proud to admit it."
"Geez, enough already," Fiona interjected.
"You were caught with your proverbial hand in the cookie jar and now… now you want to blame me for your own greed and carelessness," Abigail continued.
"Except that you and your organization covets the cookie jar, along with all of the cookies, and all of the jars and cookies in existence. The difference between you and me is that you want to own the whole pie, while I and the rest of the world are happy with the merest slice, a fair share in return for a fair day's work."
"Oh, listen to yourself," Abigail shot back. "Keep your speeches for your political ambitions, no one here has the slightest intention of voting for you."
"What?" Simon barked.
"Fine," Abigail said as if about to put things to a vote. "With your daughter a witness, tell us clearly why you were sent to prison. It's a matter of public record so no one here is going to fall for your typical evasion of the facts. Among other charges, you were accused of insider trading, is that correct?"
Taking a deep sigh, Simon remained silent.
"Perhaps the most egregious crime that you committed was registering a patent in your name instead of the company for whom you worked for, isn't that true, Simon? A patent on a revolutionary energy device that was potentially worth billions. You registered it… In your personal name."
"Yes, that is true," Simon agreed, looking at Fiona as if she needed to know the truth. "I did handle the Quanta Systems patent and I put my name on it so that the device would actually see the light of day. As a so-called free-energy device, it could have revolutionized the way the world has traditionally raped the planet in order to extract all viable energy sources—"
"And you personally stood to gain billions," Abigail interrupted.
"Let me finish," Simon countered, turning his head back to an attentive Fiona. "In service to the oil and gas industry, and the current monolithic powers-that-be, the organization had intended to patent the device… in order to bury it and hide it from the world. Yes, they would make a show of testing it, in order to make it work, but… as soon as the media and the scientific limelight moved on, they would simply use the excuse that it didn't work or wasn't economically viable, or it would destroy the environment, etc., etc. It’s business as usual, so long free energy, buh-bye economic egalitarianism and screw you, the developing nations of this world."
"Poppy cock," Abigail sneered. "None of what you say is true and I know that for a fact. Why? Because you were not privy to any of the decisions made above your pay grade. This is all total speculation on your part and a nice little story to tell yourself in order to cover up for your own greed and subterfuge."
"You know that I'm telling the truth, Abigail," Simon countered.
"I know the truth because I'm present in all those meetings where such decisions are made. Can you say the same? No. The fact of the matter is that you stood to gain, either by selling the patent back to us or to another third party. Either way, it was a
stupid, stupid move on your part and I have no idea why you thought you would get away with it."
"I didn't do it for the money but you are right, I did it because I did rediscover my principles."
Watching her father very closely, Fiona was shocked by what she was hearing.
"The facts speak for themselves," Abigail said, sitting down beside her niece and watching Fiona's facial expression with interest. "Did you or did you not put your name on those documents and did you not stand to personally gain financially from so doing?"
Both Abigail and Fiona looked up at Simon as he stood looking vulnerable before them. Clearly feeling ill at ease, he watched Fiona's disapproving look with a mixture of shame and regret.
"Well?" Abigail insisted.
"That's not why I did it," Simon said softly. "You have to believe me," he said to his daughter who looked ashamed on his behalf.
"If you don't mind, we'd like to prepare ourselves for our evening meal," Abigail said to Simon, hoping to dismiss him.
Looking pleadingly at his daughter, Simon held his standing position. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, Fiona turned her eyes downward towards the floor.
"Fine," Simon said sadly. "I shall leave you girls to it," he said as he turned and left.
As tears fell from Fiona's eyes, Abigail moved closer to her and embraced her gently. "I'm sorry that you had to witness all that," she said softly. "I know what it's like to be disappointed by one's own father."
"What you asked the other day?" Fiona asked quietly. "About getting involved? Doing something to help the world?"
"Yes, dear," Abigail said warmly.
"I think I'd like to do that now," she said adamantly as she wept.
"Excellent, sweetheart," Abigail said as she wiped away tears and stroked Fiona's hair from her face. "I think you're making the right decision."
Chapter 14
Fiona rode in the back of the town car and idly looked out the window watching the city of Los Angeles slowly awaken from its slumber. Taking surface streets to the south east of downtown LA, Fiona watched the drivers in passing traffic and noticed how firmly entrenched in their own worlds they each seemed to be. Those in other cars appeared preoccupied with their thoughts. Their eyes fixed on the road ahead, they seemed not to notice much of what was going on around and about them.