Chapter Sixteen
Copyright 2004 Tanya J. Allan
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge. The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.
Unfortunately no politicians were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.
If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me and lie. I will always welcome contact.
tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk
The legal stuff.
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
Wrapping Up.
I paused in my tale, and looked at Lieutenant Collinson who was sitting opposite me.
"Well, the rest you know. I made the movie and it did pretty well, even though the Lord of the Rings came out at the same time. I turned nineteen just before we finished shooting, and signed up for a fashion designer course, which I am still doing.
"Dad called me a few weeks ago, and told me that the chemo hadn't worked, and he wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to die in bed. So, what more can I say?"
"Why did you come to America?"
I looked out of the window, and watched the raindrops racing each other down the pane.
"He asked me to see him one last time. I couldn't leave at that moment, but I came as soon as I could."
"Do you know why he wanted to see you?"
I shrugged.
"I think he was a sentimental old sod and just wanted to see me again. But he was a devious bastard, so there may have been an ulterior motive." I said.
"Sandi, what I am going to tell you know goes no further, and I may be way out of line for telling you in any case. But I guess after what you've been through, you deserve the truth."
"Go on," I said.
"Your dad was found on the lower east side, in a warehouse, lying on the floor with a bullet in his heart. In a back room were six men, all dead, and on the table was over $2,000,000 worth of cocaine, and enough boxes of automatic weapons to start a small revolution.
"We got an anonymous call from a male with a pronounced English accent giving us a time and place of a major drugs deal. When we got there, that was what we found."
I stared at him in silence.
"Your father had a gun in his hand, and we believe the wound to his chest was self administered. All the dead men had been shot with the same weapon, including your father," he added.
I nodded.
"Who were the other men?" I asked.
"Two of them were Columbian couriers, and the other four were Jamaican Yardies. One of the Yardies had a London connection, and that connection was Frankie Holland."
"Oh," I said.
"The FBI were less than forthcoming with information, and denied any knowledge of anyone called Lake or Armitage."
I smiled.
"He was in their witness protection programme," I said.
"Yeah, I know that now."
"So, what happens now? As I said in the morgue, I've already 'buried' the bugger once, it will look bloody farcical if I have to say I made a mistake the first time."
He smiled.
"Well, that is really up to you. In a way he has done us a favour, and as far as we are concerned he is Armitage. To be honest, we would rather the Columbians and Jamaicans believed that the NYPD got to their men, and not some dying retired English gangster."
I smiled too, how bloody typical of Dad. He could never just curl up and die, he had to be difficult.
"Look, Lieutenant. I'm getting married soon, and to be honest, I thought my father was out of my life. I know this sounds callous, as he may have been my father, but he was bugger all else. He actually made a tough time of my life one hell of a lot tougher, and to be honest, all I want is to get on and live the rest of my life in peace.
"I have a lovely man, and superb prospects, and an awful lot to be thankful for. He was not one of them. If it is okay with you, just cremate the old sod and send me the ashes, as was supposed to have happened after the last time. I will spread them where he would have liked to have been scattered."
The Lieutenant nodded.
"Are you sure?"
"Yup, I'm sure. This marks an end of this chapter of my life, and to be honest, I think it is for the best."
The Lieutenant had me sign a couple of forms, and then he took me to the hotel.
I called Simon, aware that it was early in the morning.
"Hi sweetie. I'm coming home. It's finally really over!"
"Was it him?" he asked.
"Oh yes. This time he is really dead."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Honey."
"I'm not."
"Oh?"
"Simon?"
"What?"
"Can we get married soon?"
"How soon?"
"As soon as I get back."
"No!"
"Why the hell not?"
"Because my mother would never get it arranged in that time, she'll need six months notice."
"Fuck your mother!"
"No thanks."
"Simon?"
"How about Saturday?"
"See you in church."
"I love you too. Can I go back to sleep now?