Honor Thy Mother & Thy Father Ch. 13

The guard put his gun away.

Alan looked at the three of them and said, "You mean you two set me up?"

They responded, "Who us? Would we do that to you?"

"You will never sleep soundly again. Look for loaded mousetraps, spiders in your bed, and ants in your shoes. The FBI taught me many dirty tricks, and you three are going to be subjected to all of them."

"Callaway, I think we got under his skin. I did not believe it was possible, but I think we finally did it. The jokester has finally been out joked."

"This was not funny. There was a gun pointed at my son."

The guard pulled out his weapon and said, "You mean this? He took a big bite out of the chocolate .38 caliber gun replica."

He asked Alan, "Would you like some, its Austrian chocolate, and it is delicious."

Alan could not take anymore. He started laughing. They had gotten him good. He took the gun from the guard and bit a piece off the barrel. He said, "This is good chocolate. How did they get it passed Homeland Security, and customs?"

The guard said, "It was very easy. It is made in Kentucky."

Alan looked at Susan and said, "Can we take our son home now, before I kill someone else in this hospital."

"Alan," Callaway said, "you promised you would not kill anyone else in my hospital. Four was your allotment; five and you go to jail."

"Let me think for a moment Callaway. Patricia paid off your student loans; you are an independently wealthy woman, with everything to live for. You are living with someone you love, because you took my advice to go slow. Everything in your life is going smoothly. Yes, you are the perfect candidate. I will kill you and go to jail happily."

"Fuck you Robbins, you hit Susan with one lucky shot, and got her pregnant. Now you strut around like a peacock. I hope Callum keeps you up every night until you are 60."

"Susan, I think I got under her skin. I did not think it was possible, but I think I did it. The mouth from the South has been had."

"Robbins if I ever see you in my hospital again, you are going to go from a Mister to a Miss overnight."

"Our baby's godmother is getting a little testy dear. Did someone put a little jock itch powder into her panties this morning?"

"Get out of my hospital, Robbins, before I take my godson and tell him what a bastard his father is."

"Susan, did you tell Callaway she is babysitting on her next day off?"

Callaway yelled, "No, you can't do that to me. That is my cutting loose day. If I don't have fun on that day I will go crazy."

"But Callaway, you have to bond with your new godson. If anything were to happen to us, we would not want him to go into a stranger's home."

"You had this all planned out Robbins. You got me to say yes at a weak moment, and I thought you were being nice. I should have known better. You are going to torment me with this for the rest of my life. I should have my head examined for saying yes to you."

"You must remember Callaway; I talked Susan into it also. She thought I was the nicest person on the planet for asking you to be our son's godmother. Susan believed I was asking you, because of the gentle and professional care you gave me after I was shot. She didn't realize I did it because of your loud mouth, and abusive nature. Getting even is a bitch, isn't it Callaway."

Callaway ran screaming to the elevator, and back to work. As soon as the elevator door closed; Susan and Alan broke into peals of laughter. They laughed so loud they woke up Callum. He looked around to see what was so funny, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep. He turned out to be a very fine baby. After six weeks of being at home, he began sleeping through the night. After one year, he was in the 70^th percentile of babies his age. At his second birthday he was at the 90^th percentile. His premature birth did not affect him at all. His parents did not spoil him. His godmother and godfather did.

Callalily and Sergeant never came to see him, without a toy in their hand. Susan was thankful she had all those extra bedrooms, because one became the storage room for Callum's toys. For his third birthday Callalily went all out. She bought Callum a pony. Sergeant bought him his saddle, and the rest of his tack.

Susan took out her rifle, and threatened to kill them both, if they did not stop spoiling her son.

Callum loved his godparents. They were more fun than his parents. They never made him go to bed on time. They let him watch cartoons when he slept over at their houses. They never made him do his letters, read, do arithmetic, or work on the computer. His godparents let him do the fun stuff. They took him on nature trips into the mountains. They let him discover the ancient Indian rock carvings by himself. They took him to see the wondrous land bridge between the two mountains. They let him climb anything he wanted, and to scuff his knees, without fear of being reprimanded by his mother. They let him come home dirty, where his mother wanted him to be clean all the time. Sergeant wanted to buy him a little go-kart, but Susan told him that if he brought it on to her property, it would be open season on his car. As far as Callum was concerned, his parents were stuffed shirts, and his godparents were fun.

55. Stephano Rides Again

"Steve, Stephano, have you had any luck yet?"

"Oh yes, we emailed each other once time. She warned me if I did it again she would melt my computer. She said she was fine and don't ever try to contact her again. When she was feeling ready to resurface she would do it. Right now she does not want to see or speak to anyone, so leave her alone. If I were you, I wouldn't go near her. She may kill you just for the sport of it."

"Steve, we had an argument, and I got pissed off. I said things I should not have said. It happens to all of us when we are in love and we get angry. I have to find her. Give me a hint as to how I can do it."

"Do you remember what she did to the NSA?"

"Yes, I remember, it was the funniest thing I had ever read. The IRS article was not too bad either."

"You could always ask the NSA to try to help you. She was the one that broke in to their computers and pulled out that information. They may be embarrassed enough to want to find her and punish her, because of it."

"I don't want her punished, I want her found."

"Why don't you try the FBI? They're good at finding people."

"What is the name of the person you want my head to be cut off by Steve?"

"That would be the director himself, Stephano, Michael Free. I will text you his number. Have a lot of fresh clean towels available. He may go straight for your juggler vein. He became very attached to Patty, before you decided to destroy her."

"Mister Free, Stephano Valentino is on the phone and he would like to speak to you."

"Tell Mister Valentino unless he knows where Patricia Parent is, to climb into a ditch and die."

"Mister Free, he said he will do whatever you ask of him, after he finds Miss Parent."

The director picked up the phone and said, "Stephano if you are wasting my time I am going to dismember you personally."

"Michael, I fucked up. Haven't you ever made a mistake before? I made a beauty, and I want to find her before she harms herself. I want to find her before she makes a mistake, goes into a convent, and ruins her life."

"I am not sure that going into a convent would be a mistake for her. She was so upset when you left her; all she wanted was to return to a simple, uncomplicated life. A convent or the cloisters, is as simple as life can be. She will have no worries, she can pray for peace of mind and spirit. She will never have to worry about a man breaking her heart again. She waited so long to find someone, and when she did she put her whole heart behind it. Unfortunately, that man was you; a selfish lowlife, who wouldn't know a diamond, from a piece of glass."

"Thank you for that pep-talk Michael. Do you know where she is?"

"The only thing we have on her is that she bought a Motorhome, and some feed for the ranch in Glens Falls, New York, which she does for the man, who is the caretaker there. Both checks were from the bank in Las Vegas."

"Where did she buy the motorhome?"

"Motorhome was purchased out of Tulsa Oklahoma."

"I didn't know she could drive anything that big."

"If she can make a computer dance, she could drive a tank by reading the manual."

"You're probably right, but who would sell her a motorhome if she didn't have the proper license."

"In this economy, any dealer would sell his right nut to anyone with enough cash to buy one."

"Would you do me a favor please? Run a driver's license request for a Class 2 license for a motorhome, for Patricia Parent?"

Michael put Stephano on hold and called the computer room supervisor. He asked him to run the driver's license request and to call him back when it was completed.

He put Stephano back on the line and told him what he did and asked for his phone number. He said he would call him back when he got the results.

25 minutes later Michael received the information he needed. He called Stephano and gave it to him.

"Stephano, Patricia got a Class 2 license several weeks ago. It coincides with the purchase of the motorhome, and the check. She received the license in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont."

"Shit, Michael, she is heading for Canada again. She is making the trip that took her to you the first time, but this time she is going to stay in Canada and hide out. I will never find her up there."

"Let me call the border patrol and see if she crossed over the border yet."

It took quite a bit longer because of the amount of crossings from Vermont into Canada. He found out that Patricia had not crossed the border through Vermont. Michael relayed that information to Stephano.

"Where the hell is she Michael, where would she go?"

"Do you have a computer? If you do, I would look for convents in the northern tier of states to start. If I find out anything I will call you. If you find out anything, and you don't call me, you will be in jail for obstruction of justice. Do we understand each other Stephano?"

"Yes Mister Free, we understand each other very well."

Stephano pulled up a map of the Northeast United States on his computer and said to himself, "Where the hell is Saint Johnsbury, Vermont." He zeroed in on it, and asked himself, "East to New Hampshire, North to Maine and Canada, South to Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and points south, West to New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio and the rest of the country. Patty where are you? I am looking for you. I want you back."

He looked up hotels in Saint Johnsbury in the first one listed was the Comfort Suites Hotel. He called and asked to speak to the manager. He said his name was Michael Free, Director of the FBI. If you want to call me back here is my number to verify it. This is a matter of some urgency. We are looking for a young woman who may have had a break in her mental status. Her family is very worried about her. She left home four weeks ago. Her name is Patricia Parent and we had just heard she might have received a driver's license and purchased a motorhome in your vicinity. Have you had a guest at your hotel by that name?"

The manager said they had a guest by that name and gave the dates of arrival and departure. He also verified that she had purchased a new motorhome on the date of her departure from his hotel. He did not remember the license plate number. He gave Stephano as much detail about the motorhome as he could remember.

Stephano thanked the manager, hung up, and called Michael Free.

"Michael, I found her or at least where she was three weeks ago. She was in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont. She did get her driver's license, and she purchased a Huge Motorhome from Integra. It's beige and brown on the outside and the inside has all the bells and whistles. The manager knows this because he sat with the sales agent, while Patricia was out taking her driving test. She could be on the road more than 1000 miles, before she has to stop. Only God knows where she went from here."

"Stephano, a better question would be, 'Why did she go to Saint Johnsbury in the first place?'"

"I told you that before Michael. She was retracing the steps her mother gave her when this mess first started. She may find someplace simpler along the way and stop there for good. I just don't know. The way she explained it to me was she went north into Canada, then West to Montréal, where she took a plane south to Washington to meet you. I wouldn't spend a third of the million dollars and leave a motorhome at an airport in Montréal. Maybe she is going to drive that route, instead of flying the last portion?"

"There is only one problem with that scenario, Stephano. She has not crossed the border into Canada, yet. It would blow up that theory right away."

"I have a worse question than that: What is within 1000 miles of Saint Johnsbury?"

Michael replied, "I would say about 50,000 gas stations."

"So were back looking for convents and cloisters."

"I'm afraid so. Where are you now Stephano?"

"I am in Boston. I was headed up to Amherst to check her school, but it looks like that would be a waste of time."

"No, I suggested she try to go back to MIT and continue her education there. She said no, but she may have changed her mind. Check on it, and then go to Amherst. On the odd chance our first guess was right. Stop by the Boston archdiocese and see if they have any information on her, and then call me back with the results."

"Okay Michael, I will start out right now. For the record, I was asshole. My father told me so; my mother hit me because of what I did; and I know it deep in my soul. If anything happens to her, it will be my fault."

"Then don't stand there, do something. Get your ass in gear and look for her. You know the saying, 'Love conquers all.' Maybe you will think of something and it will take you to her."

"Michael, I'm going to Saint Johnsbury first. I want to know why she was there."

"Okay Stephano, keep me informed."

57. Let Freedom Ring

June 1st was Independence Day, not that Independence Day, but Independence Day for Fred Hastings, he was getting out of the hospital, nearly 4 months after he should have died. The doctors held a press conference in the morning advising the press of the miraculous recovery he had made. He still had a long way to go, as far as his physical and mental healing was concerned, but he was now fit enough to be treated as an outpatient. His memory was of concern. It had not improved since the day of the shooting. Certain things he could remember and certain things about his past he had no concept of. He could not remember his childhood, where he grew up, his parents, his sister, or what schools he attended. He did know that he was a lawyer and he was as sharp as ever in that area, before the shooting. They feared, because of where the bullet hit him, the shock, reverberation inside his skull, that portion of his memory may never return. As far as his physical healing, he would get stronger every day. He had a support system in place that would nurture him and make sure that he obeyed all his physician's rules. The doctor laughed when he said, "His fiancée assured me there would be two types of pain involved in his healing. First the pain he caused himself by breaking his physician's rules. Then the pain he would receive because she and her daughters would be beating him for not obeying those rules. There was a wedding scheduled for December. He would either walk her down the aisle after they were married, if he was a good boy, or she would wheel him down the aisle, on a gurney, if he were bad. He was the man of the house, and as always, the choice was his."

The press gallery couldn't help laughing. They knew Fred was in trouble.

At 1 PM they brought Fred down in a wheelchair. He was surrounded by the Attorney General, Sharon, and his four daughters. A happier group of people you could not find anywhere on the face of the planet. As the aid raised the wings on the footpads, and step out of the way Fred was helped to his feet and given a pair of crutches for stability. Sharon said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Fred, no running."

He replied, "Why not?"

She smacked him on the back of the head.

Then the moment the press had waited for, and every photographer had their cameras focused and ready. Fred took his first step, and there was applause from the crowd standing outside the hospital. Many of those were his friends and colleagues from work, who had taken their lunch hour to come and see him. After that first huge step, Fred continued walking with the assistance of his crutches to the limousine that waited by the curb. He waved at everyone who was there, kissed Sharon, both because he wanted to, and because he wanted the press to have a picture of the happy couple. He let her get into the car first. He kissed Sandy, Cindy, Danni, and Debbie. He looked at the Attorney General, threw his crutches on the ground, wrapped his arms around him, and hugged him. This picture would be on the front of all the newspapers the following day, because both men had tears in their eyes.

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Three men sitting in a suburban house in upstate New York were pissed. Michael Caifano said, "That man is going to be President of the United States, and Fred is going to be sitting right next to him. Montrose could have shot him in the balls and I would not have cared; but that fucking idiot shot him in the head and he has no memory of his past. Three of the best psychiatrist in the world have tested him. Four neurologists did their tests and we have all the reports sitting in front of us. If I knew what they meant by, 'a possible collapse of the Intra-Parietal Sulcus,' I would be a danger to myself and those around me."

Joe Lombardo laughed. "What it means Michael is Montrose fucked us good. Fred is no use to us anymore. We can never approach him, but on the bright side, he can't testify against us either. No one would believe him because of his brain injury."

Caifano said, "I guess there is always a silver lining on a dark cloud."

"We have to start looking around for another candidate and another kid to take Fred's place."

"What are we going to do about his father?"

"He has been living up to his end of the bargain. His books are open to us every year, and there is no second set that he is hiding, because the bookkeeper is ours. Let's let him slide. He has lost a son in this affair and I am sure he is suffering because of it. I will tell him about it when I am in the city."

"Sir, what are we doing at the White House?"

"The driver must've taken a wrong turn."

With all the going on at the hospital he hadn't noticed before but he did now. "Girls, why are you all dressed up?"

"Didn't you know, dad, its dress up Tuesday."

"No, I don't believe anyone told me. Sharon am I going to get a straight answer out of you?"

"I had nothing to do with this. I am totally innocent. I stand on my rights as an American citizen. I take the sixth amendment."

Cindy yelled, "Way to go mom."

Her three sisters yelled at her, "It's the Fifth Amendment Cindy."

"No it's not! I just want mom to have a slow trial, with an unfair and partial jury."

Fred leaned over and kissed her. He said, "You play dumb very well, Cindy, but you are no one's fool."

"Dad, don't tell them that, it will ruin all their fun."

"I am going to have your IQ tested. I will make you a bet you are as smart as Sandy, if not smarter."

"Dad, stop, she will start to cry."

Sandy said, "I will not. I will just tear the hair out of your head."

Sharon pulled Fred back into his seat. Do you see what you have started? Now everyone will think Cindy is the smartest one instead of Sandy. Cindy will have to start answering questions correctly, or everyone will think you are wrong."