Second Chances (11 page)

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George and Tim waited as the waitress placed their drinks in front of them, ice water for George, vodka on the rocks for Tim. George thanked her, sending her away before he changed his mind and switched to something harder. What he needed was a clear head. This dinner was too important to mix with alcohol.

Clearing his throat, he hesitated, "I’m not sure where to start.”

Neither did Tim. The cab ride there had been bad enough, awkward silence occasionally punctuated by his best tour guide voice politely pointing out sites of interest. At the restaurant, they’d settled comfortably into this booth and begun a lengthy discussion of the menu before chatting up the waitress with their drink and dinner orders. As if it was the most important thing in the world, as if they had nothing else to talk about. Truth was he was afraid, he suspected they both were.

“Maybe you should start at the beginning,” he suggested, “and we’ll see how it goes from there.”

George agreed. “Well, I guess this story starts at the end. As I’ve said, I live in Greece in a village called Cronilys. I’m a fisherman now but I wasn’t always. Anyway, a few weeks ago, I was in the market and ran into an old acquaintance, a dear friend of your mother’s actually. We hadn’t seen each other in years and we got to talking about your mother and things that’d happened between us. The conversation got heated.”

He paused. “I loved your mother very much, but she could be stubborn. Sofie told me I was selfish for leaving her alone and pregnant.” He still couldn’t believe it. Shaking his head he continued, “I didn’t know what Sofie was talking about and she ran away before I could ask her. I went nuts thinking about it.”

“My first thought was to contact your mother, but we’re not exactly on speaking terms,” he said dryly. “And the last time I saw her she didn’t say anything about a baby. So I hired a private investigator instead. I wanted to know if there really was a baby and if it was mine.” He took a sip of water and braced himself for the finish. “I finally heard from him a few days ago. He’d found your birth certificate naming me as the father.”

The frown was back nestled between Tim’s eyes. “What happened between you and my mother? Why did you leave her?”

The waitress served their meals efficiently placing plates of steak frites in front of each of them giving George a moment to collect his thoughts. “In a nutshell, my life was in danger and I had to get out of Greece immediately. Otherwise, I promise you, I’d never have left her.”

“But you’re not together now?” Tim sipped his drink, not the least bit interested in eating.

George sighed. This was even harder than he thought. “No, we’re not. She wanted to be with her husband.”

Choking, Tim’s throat burned with vodka and his eyes watered. “Excuse me?”

His cheeks flaming red, George squirmed in his seat. They were both adults but he felt like a kid caught with his pants down. “You’re mother and I weren’t married.”

“No shit.” Tim’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Then how do you know you’re the father and not…..?”

“Harry Lynch was her husband and he’s not
the
father,” he said wincing at Tim’s caustic words. “
I’m
your father. I know this because it says so on the birth certificate, and because I feel it in my gut.”

Tim played with his food pondering the facts that were starting to chip away at his wall of doubt. But there was more to the story. “Even if the birth certificate’s legit, that doesn’t explain how you found me.”

“The Massachusetts Open Adoption Agency,” George reminded him gently. “You registered there a few years ago. They told me your name and where you work.”

He had registered with the agency like a million years ago or at least it felt that way, occasionally updating the information just in case and hoping something like this would come of it, hoping his parents would find him. He chewed slowly on a piece of steak. “Ok, so who’s my mother?”

Tim’s expression was hopeful, he was starting to believe and it made George sad. Of course he wanted to know about his mother but what could he tell him? He didn’t know why she’d given her baby up and he didn’t know why she hadn’t tried to find him since. Pashmina’s story wasn’t his to tell.

“Your mother was an incredible woman, young and beautiful when I met her. I was a reporter at the time, speaking on a panel about writing professionally. I spotted her in the audience and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”

A small smile touched his face as George remembered. “Afterwards we spoke and the connection was immediate. We started working together, me as her writing coach and teacher, she as my muse, my inspiration. You see she wanted to become a novelist and I was trying to branch out with my writing as well.”

“Your mother was married by this point but her husband was a naval officer. He’d been away for several months already when we met and she was lonely, writing was her escape.” He looked tentatively at Tim paying rapt attention, he wasn’t eating or drinking. “I guess I probably took advantage of the situation but I fell in love with her hard and fast and for a while I thought she loved me too. I didn’t want to believe her when she said she loved her husband and we were quote unquote ‘over’.”

“So then what, what did you do?” Tim had to remind himself these were his parents they were talking about and not a sappy soap opera.

“And then I disappeared.” Tim looked dumbfounded and George laughed.

“I thought it would be temporary, that I’d be home soon and I’d win her back but I was wrong. I didn’t see her again for more than twenty years.”

They were straying off topic but Tim’s curiosity was piqued. “Why did you have to disappear?”

George ate his steak, stalling for time while he weighed his options. Telling Tim the truth was risky especially since things seemed to be going pretty well between them. They were getting to know each other, in time maybe Tim would even trust him. But right now the truth could be devastating to their fragile relationship.

He waived the waitress over. He’d come this far, too late to turn back. “This could take a while, I need a drink.”

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CHAPTER TEN

Beads of sweat were beginning to form on George’s forehead. It was late morning and the temperature was already soaring past eighty degrees, but he wasn’t sure if it was the heat or his nerves getting to him. Leaning against his car, an old 1972 Ford Mercury, he was a few minutes early waiting for Christoff to show up. One thing he knew for certain, punctuality was key in this line of work, a matter of life or death even. Only a fool would test Christoff’s limits on this and George was no fool in fact, despite his harsh tone and threatening demeanor, George sensed Christoff was softening towards him. That was a good thing because the sooner he earned Christoff’s trust the sooner he’d be able to end this crazy escapade.

Five weeks earlier he’d volunteered to infiltrate and uncover the inner workings of one of the most notorious organized crime families in Greece, the Adelphos. By far the most powerful and brutal organization of its kind, the Adelphos was also the most enigmatic of all the groups. With its members sworn to an impregnable vow of silence and an under-the-radar operations strategy, the tight-lipped, stealthy Adelphos was becoming something of interest to more than a few. George had decided this would be his mission, the story that would catapult his career as a journalist and a writer. Despite the danger.

Just getting his foot in the door had taken some time, calling in favors and debts to get the operation started until finally, a lead on a small time gangster had connected him with Christoff, a twenty-something ‘made man’ who owed his life to the organization. Thinking George was a second cousin of a deceased member of the Adelphos, Christoff had grudgingly agreed to ‘sponsor’ George wasting no time inducting him into a treacherous world of drug deals and shakedowns.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg. George knew Christoff was testing him, deciding whether or not the newcomer could be trusted, and he’d been doing his best to prove himself. Now it seemed maybe he had. Christoff’s last message was cryptic but promising.

Suddenly a car pulled up alongside him and the driver rolled down his window. It was Christoff. “Get in, quickly!” he instructed as George climbed rapidly into the passenger seat beside him. He looked at Christoff, stone-faced, jaw clenched.

“Is everything all right?” he asked nervously.

“We have work to do. Now listen carefully. Do exactly what I tell you and you’ll be fine. Screw it up and it’ll be your ass on the line, you’ll be answering to the Adelphos. Understand?”

Perfectly. What they were about to do was dangerous and undoubtedly illegal, and he was flying solo, risking everything for this assignment. And if things went south, no one would help him, not even the newspaper though his editor had promised to contact the police in the case of an emergency. Wonderful. He felt safe now.

The car screeched away from the curb and headed into the town of Piraeus. Christoff said very little as they navigated the narrow streets, passing through a large marketplace where stalls were lined up displaying fruits and vegetables. Vendors were calling out loudly to people, enticing them to come closer and buy their produce. Christoff slowed the car staring intently at the people on the sidewalk. At the last stall, he pulled the car over quickly almost hitting an older woman who was gathering bags around her.

George grabbed the edge of his seat as the car came to a sudden stop and a young man hopped into the back of the car. He wore a cap over his eyes and sported the beginnings of a stubbly beard.

Nodding towards George he asked, “Is this the guy?”

His voice rumbled like thunder as George extended his hand, stopped short by a pair of beady eyes glaring back at him. He blinked. Did that booming bass really belong to this little shrew of a man?

“Yes.” Christoff answered gruffly as he pulled away from the curb again. No one spoke further and the prolonged silence made George uneasy. He had no idea where they were going but he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask either of these guys. The car headed toward the center of Piraeus, the streets growing gradually wider as they approached the center of town. They passed several large buildings that George knew well, the main post office, a few banks, and finally a large stone building that was home to several law firms. Christoff pulled around the corner and parked.

“Stay here,” he commanded exiting the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind him. The other guy or The Shrew as George decided to call him, followed suit as Christoff rapped his knuckles on George’s window signaling him to open it.

“We’re going in this building for a minute. I want you to get behind the wheel and wait for us to come out. When we do, you drive as fast as you can. Understand?”

“Yeah, sure.” This didn’t bode well. He didn’t know what these guys were up to but he was pretty sure they weren’t looking to get legal advice. Christoff threw him the keys and walked away with The Shrew in tow.

George exhaled a long, nervous breath. Maybe infiltrating the mob wasn’t such a great idea after all, there had to be an easier way for a reporter to break out. He shimmied across the front bench seat and settled in behind the wheel. What were Christoff and his buddy doing at a law firm? If they were just here for a meeting, why did they need George for a quick getaway? From his limited criminal experience, law firms weren’t the kind of place typically used to make drug deals and he couldn’t imagine them shaking down lawyers for money. Lawyers were their own kind of sharks.

Trying to calm himself he turned his thoughts to Pashmina. Just thinking about her made him happy. He loved her so much it was impossible to imagine his life without her and thankfully he’d never have to. She may have said she loved Harry but she was in love with him, why else would she have stayed with him all this time? That was the crux of it and that’s what he told Harry. A twinge of guilt went through him briefly as he recalled his emotional power play to get Harry out of the picture. Maybe it was a little selfish of him but he wouldn’t lose any sleep worrying about it, it was for the best.

George’s head banged against the window as the back door opened with a ferocity that rocked the car. In a flurry, something was thrust into the back as The Shrew jumped into the front seat and screamed at George “Let’s go! Go! Go!”

Instinctively, George turned the key and floored it, racing away from the building and avoiding the main streets. “Where am I going?” he asked frantically, not daring to look in the rear view mirror.

“Head to the port,” The Shrew instructed. “There’s a building just before you get to the docks. It’s a machine shop for marine equipment. Pull in and park around back.”

They raced along the streets of Piraeus, George’s knuckles clenched tight around the steering wheel, beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. Just outside the city limits he slowed his speed, no one seemed to be chasing them and he wasn’t going to do anything to call attention to them. Relaxing slightly he glanced quickly in the rearview mirror towards the back seat.

Christoff was lying across it on top of a male figure. He had his arm around the man’s neck as he struggled to pull a cloth bag over his head. The man, who appeared to be much smaller than Christoff, was pushing against the seat trying to break free. With a closed fist, Christoff punched him in the head repeatedly until he stopped struggling then covered his head and bound his wrists together with twine.

George began to shake uncontrollably. What the hell was happening? Obviously the guy wasn’t there of his own volition. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” he cursed silently. “What the fuck have I gotten into?”

He stole a quick glance at The Shrew staring straight ahead at the road. Calm, cool and collected, the guy was so nonchalant he seemed bored. George felt sick.

They were about ten minutes away from the port and George’s mind raced desperately as he tried to figure out what to do. Dumbass, what have you gotten yourself into? He took a deep breath and tried to infuse some common sense into his terror. This was a giant fucking mistake but he’d be fine. His editor knew what he was up to and he’d help
if he could
. He’d vouch for George and proclaim his innocence in all this crap
if George lived that long
.

He glanced in the rearview again. Things were relatively quiet back there where the little man was still subdued. He breathed deeply and focused on driving. A few minutes later The Shrew pointed to the left. “Right there, that’s the building. Pull in here and go around back.”

The car screeched as George made a quick turn into the vacant parking lot and pulled up to a nondescript warehouse with no discernible markings. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. If things got out of hand, and he was pretty sure now they would, he was up a creek. No one knew he was here and no one would ever find him. He felt a sudden kinship with the hooded one in his back seat. He and the little man were goners.

Pulling in close to the back of the building he parked the car and glanced over at The Shrew who was already opening the passenger door. “Get out,” he said quietly to George. Taking the keys out of the ignition, George’s hand shook as he placed them in his pocket and waited outside the car for further instructions.