Authors: Jonas Saul
The Specter (26 page)
The lawyers had met, and today’s court date was only a formality.
All charges were dismissed. He was a free man with no criminal record. He already had designs on a new dojo. A bigger, better building where Alex, Benjamin, and Daniel would take on teaching roles until Aaron had healed enough to come on full time.
They exited the courthouse, turned the corner by the stairs and Alex rolled Aaron down the wheelchair ramp.
It was his last week in a chair. His physiotherapist said he would be taking the chair back. Aaron was walking well enough on his own. The chair was lent to him only for his court appearance.
At the bottom of the ramp, a man stepped out of the shadows and called Aaron’s name. The chair stopped and Alex moved in front of Aaron.
“It’s okay, Alex. That’s Folley. He’s a cop.”
Alex moved aside, cracking his knuckles. Aaron caught Daniel wrapping an arm around Alex’s shoulders to rein him in.
“Aaron, I wanted to congratulate you. I’m happy to see the charges dropped. It was the right thing to do.”
Aaron nodded his thanks.
“I found a few things out recently that I thought you should know.”
“Like what?” Aaron asked.
The sun beat down between them, but Aaron still shivered in his chair. It was late November, the air crisp in downtown Toronto. Cabs honked their horns, cars raced by and police sirens wailed in the distance. Life in Toronto stopped for no one.
“We discovered Clive Baron’s secret.”
“I’m not sure I’m interested anymore.”
“Bullshit.” Folley said. “I know you. I saw what you did with that Rubik’s Cube. You like a puzzle. You want to know as much as I did.”
Aaron didn’t move or ask his brothers to move him.
“Clive owned grain alcohol distilleries in the States. He was meeting scientists in Toronto to help perfect his recipes.”
Aaron squinted in the sun, listening. So far he couldn’t see what secret would be worth killing for.
“In a nutshell, his company, the grain alcohol distillers, would dye their alcohol blue to make it look like windshield washer fluid and the barrels were labeled as such. Then they were shipped to Russia, avoiding all duties that would be levied on imported liquor. Inspectors in Russia would see the liquid was blue and it was labeled as windshield washer fluid and then let it in the country.”
Folley stopped to cough and then continued. “Once it was in Russia, there was no way to tell whether the taxes had been paid or not. The smugglers, Clive’s men, then removed the coloring using special instructions from the scientists Clive employed for just this task. The contraband alcohol had flavor added and was bottled. Then it was sold to unsuspecting retailers across Russia through a massive distribution center in Moscow as genuine vodka called,
Absolutely Russian Vodka
. He kept his actual alcohol shipments to ten percent of his overall imports so no one would question his activities.”
Folley pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. He talked while keeping his head down. “Did you know that the average Russian citizen drinks up to twelve gallons of vodka per year? That’s more spirits than any other nation.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” Aaron said.
Alex made to move the wheelchair around but stopped when Folley raised his arm, extending the paper to Aaron.
“Here, this is for you.”
No one made an attempt to take it from Folley.
“What is it?” Aaron asked.
“It’s the information on your parents. I found them.”
Aaron wasn’t sure he heard him right. “What?”
“Your parents. I found them. They’re still alive and living ten minutes drive from here. I know why they walked away from you and your sister all those years ago. Everything’s here on this paper if you decide to contact them.”
Aaron stared at the paper, not allowing his expression to change. He had waited for this day for so many years and now that it was finally here, he just stared.
“Let me tell you something, Folley.”
The cop lowered his hand, the paper clenched in his fingers, and waited.
“One day, the Buddha was teaching his ideas on a hillside. A man showed up and started yelling at him, calling him crazy and shouting that he shouldn’t be filling people’s heads with such nonsense. The Buddha turned to the angry man and asked if he had a white piece of paper. The man was befuddled, but he produced a piece of paper and handed it to the Buddha, who accepted it and then promptly handed it back. The man asked why he did that. Why take it and then hand it back? The Buddha explained that the man’s anger was the paper and that was what the Buddha was doing with the man’s anger. He was letting him keep it.”
Aaron turned his chair around on his own and pushed the wheels. “Goodbye, Folley. May my parents rest in peace.”
“But Aaron, they’re your family.”
Aaron stopped his wheelchair and half turned back. “No, Folley.” He pointed to Alex, Daniel, and Benjamin. “These men are my family. They were there when I needed them. They took risks for me and stood by me. That’s family. It has nothing to do with blood or DNA, and everything to do with humanity.”
He pushed away again. As his brothers followed, he shouted over his shoulder to Folley, “Solve the Rubik’s Cube and you’ll know what I’m talking about. Life is a puzzle, and you have to work it out for you, and only you can work it out.”
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About Jonas Saul
Jonas Saul is the author of the Sarah Roberts Series and The Mafia Trilogy. Visit his website,
www.jonassaul.com
for upcoming release dates. Jonas lives in Washington, USA with his wife, Romance author Brenda Grate.
Contact Jonas Saul
Website:
http://www.jonassaul.com
Twitter:
@jonassaul
Email:
[email protected]
Jonas Saul Titles
The Sarah Roberts Series
1. Dark Visions
2. The Warning
3. The Crypt
4. The Hostage
The Mafia Trilogy
1. The Kill
2. The Blade
The Threat
The Specter
Short Stories
Visitations - A Book of Short Stories
The Burning
Trapped
The Fetish
The Elements
Hatred
PUBLISHED BY:
Imagine Press
The Title
Copyright © The Specter by Jonas Saul
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Beginning
