انتظار

Chapter seventeen

Waiting

It was Sunday morning. Everyone was waiting.

In Johnny’s office, Muldanno was waiting nervously for night to come. He would have to try again.

At his home, Foltrigg was waiting angrily for news of Mark. He needed him in court on Monday.

At the city airport, Mark and Reggie were waiting. They were in a private room with Detective Trumann of the FBI.

‘What time will they be here’ asked Reggie.

‘Soon,’ said Trumann. ‘They left an hour ago.’

‘Will they have the papers’ asked Reggie.

‘Sure,’ said Trumann. ‘Everything you asked for.’

Mark was at a window, watching a jet take off. He thought he would like flying. Maybe he would be a pilot.

‘He’s a brave kid,’ said Trumann to Reggie.

A black FBI jet landed. ‘Is it them’ Mark asked excitedly. The door opened, the stairs came down, and McThune appeared. He was followed by Dianne, then Dr Greenway carrying Ricky. Trumann led Mark and Reggie to meet them.

Reggie watched while Mark and Dianne held each other close. Then she turned to McThune.

‘You’ll take Ricky to a hospital’ she asked.

‘Agreed. We have a room booked in Phoenix. A private hospital. They’re waiting for Ricky.’

‘When he’s better they can choose where to live?’

‘Agreed,’ said McThune. ‘It’s all in the papers. I just need you and Ms Sway to sign.’

‘Mom,’ said Mark. ‘I’ve been thinking. What about Australia? They have real cowboys there. I saw it in a film once.’

‘No more films for you, Mark,’ laughed Dianne. ‘No more TV. Just books from now on.’ And she signed the papers.

Reggie watched as Mark and Dianne walked back to the plane. Suddenly Mark turned.

‘Aren’t you coming, Reggie’ he asked.

‘No, Mark. I can’t.’

He bit his lip. ‘I’ll never see you again, will I?’

She shook her head. There were tears in her eyes.

‘I love you Mark. I’ll miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you too,’ he said, and for once he was not ashamed to cry in public.

‘I’ll never see you again,’ said Mark again, almost to himself. He dried his wet eyes with the back of his hand and walked slowly to join his mother. At the top of the stairs he turned for one last look.

Minutes later as the plane moved away, Trumann said again, ‘He’s a brave kid.’

Reggie looked at the plane and said nothing. Then she turned and told him what he wanted to know.

‘The body is in the garage behind Jerome Clifford’s house,’ she said. ‘886 East Brookline.’

‘Thanks, Reggie,’ Trumann said, suddenly ready to leave.

‘Don’t thank me,’ said Reggie, looking into the clouds. ‘Thank Mark.’