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Finding Gideon(120)

By:Eric Jerome Dickey


“He’s a nice guy. Konstantin said that 007 was a nice guy.”

“It’s MX-999. Smartass. He’s different. And before we go, there is this other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The information I have on Nathalie Marie from Yerres. Y’all been through a lot, and I think y’all need to make sure y’all are in the right mind before you look at what I have for you.”

“What did you find out about her connection to Yerres?”

“Some lies are prettier than the truth. That’s why some people have to lie.”

“She’s earned your empathy.”

“No, you have my friendship. You trust me and my judgment?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Put some time between this and that. Let them be happy you’re okay. And you can spend some time being glad they’re out of danger.”

“So you know something about me that I don’t know.”

“We’re done with this. For now.”

I paused, soaked in reality. “Thanks for the help, Hawks. Thanks for everything.”

“You get beat up? You fall off another building?”

“You know how I roll.”

“I have an extra box of BC Powder. Will leave it here for you.”

“I still owe you for the last box.”

“Think of it as an early Christmas present.”

“Okay.”

“Can I say something?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks for Puerto Rico. I mean that. I really did have a good time.”

“You’re a woman who means what she says, and says what she means.”

“Learn to be that kinda man, Gideon. Not for me, but for yourself.”

I said good-bye, ended the call, and went to Arizona. I reached in my pocket and took out the pen drive. She sipped her martini, then looked at me like she could no longer trust me.

I told her, “You get into the Horsemen’s systems. The money they forced Scamz to transfer into their account, it’s yours. The rest is mine. Every dime. Don’t leave enough in that account to rub two quarters together. No money, then there can’t be any more Horsemen.”

She nodded. “That works for me, Gideon.”

“I’m doing what I promised I would do, that’s all.”

“Thanks for being fair. Lakenheath tried to rip me off back in the day on the Katrina scam. And Scamz, didn’t trust him as far as a monkey can throw shit. That’s why I kept the passwords to myself. He would have stolen it all and left me out to dry. I needed you down there.”

I told her, “I want all of the Horsemen’s files. Only for me, my eyes only, not for you.”

“Agreed. No problem. You can watch me if you want.”

I handed her the pen drive. She pulled out a laptop and went to work. Amazing how any laptop with Wi-Fi could be used to break into any system that had the same.

I asked, “Mind changing the music? That song gives me a headache.”

Soon Miles played. When his song ended, Coltrane began.

Arizona said, “You killed your father. Same as Scamz, the first one, did.”

“If I did, it wasn’t the same.”

“If?”

“Or maybe it was. Maybe it was the same.”

I left her to working, to cracking into systems and stealing money.

Soon she had her millions, the money that had once belonged to Scamz.

The Horsemen’s war chest was sent to my offshore account.

I had millions.

I’d find a way to get more money to Alvin White’s widow and kids. Maybe have an accountant send a stipend each month. Set up college funds. And some would go to Steven. And Robert. And Catherine.

I had the comb with the Beast’s DNA. I would get Andrew-Sven’s DNA and send it all in.

As I had been before this fiasco in Buenos Aires, I was back to X.Y.Z.

I’d call Medianoche’s DNA and mine A.B. Asshole and Bastard. Those would be sent to DNA Solutions in a separate package. Right now my blood brother’s truth was the most important. The truth about my father had bothered me most of my life. Even though Andrew-Sven never said anything, I know it bothered him. One day Steven would want to use his real name, would want to only be Andrew-Sven, would want to know about his identity, and would start asking Catherine questions about his father, who he was, how they met, and what happened. He knows what she did when she worked on Berwick Street, but he would want something definitive. He should know who his father was, or who he wasn’t. I could give him that truth.

If there was any truth in what Medianoche had said, I could look my brother in his eyes and tell him that his father was a strong man, a military man, a leader who jumped out of airplanes and went on secret missions. I would say he had died in battle. He had paid the ultimate price protecting his army in a war down in South America. That would be my spin. I wouldn’t ever tell him I was part of that war. I would never tell him I was his father’s enemy. And I hoped my brother would never find out.