@margaret: Yes, it was. Today we gonna join the meeting which is a bit different compared to other interrogations... But just have a look...
Chapter 38Only one block away a shadow had sneaked onto the top of a roof. He had not had to take care of a camera-system, because there was not any. From his position he had seen how the two men had entered the brick-stone house down the road, so he had to hurry up to get into his shooting-position. He crouched down, took the take-down rifle out of his sports-bag and built it together very fast; at last the scope.
This was not the way he had planned the great lift-off of his enemy, but after he had got-ten into trouble with his time-scale there was only one chance left: to take this revenge directly!
And after that? Well, he planned to go back to Miami. There would be enough cases for him to work on and to be the executioner when everybody else failed. He had only to fulfill this very last mission.***
Inside the building Horatio and Eric had entered an apartment without asking too much. After the door had been opened quite carefully by an old woman, they had only shown their badges and she had let them in.
The apartment was not that big. They stood in a kind of living-room, while the old woman went into the kitchen where the lid of a kettle was rattling. The light of the afternoon-sun sent its rays through dusty curtains. Some of the windows had got blind by the years. The furniture of the room once had been quite expensive, but now was only old-fashioned and had already seen better days.
First, Horatio and Eric thought that there was nobody inside that room, but suddenly a silent coughing came from one of the formerly cozy looking chairs. Then the coughing changed into a rusty voice which did not seem to have enough air for its words.
“You’re the son of Laurence Caine.”
Now Horatio and Eric realized a man sitting in this chair, not very old, but threatened by an illness. Everything of this guy was small and looked like being made out of paper: the clothing, the skin … and even the voice which had changed to a whisper.
“And you are Gideon O’Neill, the oldest brother of the O’Neills living in Miami. A former killer of the
Jarheads, whose last contract was to kill Jason Byrne.” One could not derive the emotions from Horatio’s voice.
“You’ve never joined the
Jarheads, because you looked at us with distain from the very first moment. You even didn’t want to play with the other boys when you’d still been a kid.” O’Neill had his problems to keep his voice loud enough.
“What happened to you?” Horatio asked. “Your merits ended with this last killing of the sub-chief.”
“I got ill. I couldn’t hold the rifle anymore because of this d**n cough and shaking. – You would say, I retired.” He tried a little laughter, but he was shaken by his next cough-attack at once.
“I want to know, where your guardian went to.” Horatio asked directly. He wanted to get out of this house as fast as possible.
The man in this chair was around 68, but looked much older due to his disease. Now he grinned a bit: “I always thought that it was you, who’d caused all this trouble to the gang, when your parents had died.”
“You’re quite generous with your information, O’Neill,” Horatio wondered.
The rusty voice sent out a laughter which sounded more like the barking of a dog and answered: “Look at me, fool! What do you think will happen to me within the next weeks and months? There won’t be much left for your judges and jury to play with!” And after just another cough: “You should be careful. There are still some people quite angry about you.”
“And one wants to see me getting framed for his own deeds. – And that’s the only reason why I went back into this stinking hole of a gang-quarter and believe me, I’ll never come back after this mission is fulfilled.” Horatio had his voice still under control, but his temper was rising.
“Hihi, you’re not the only one being on a mission, that’s for sure,” O’Neill giggled.
Horatio made a step toward the man in the old chair, stood straight, placed his hands on his hips and stared at him in deep disgust.
“I said I would never come back again. But it’s not said that you’ll see me leaving!”
O’Neill stopped his giggling at once and looked a bit nervous at his vis-à-vis.
“Oh, Laurence’s son had grown up.” He paused a little while and tried to get his breath under control again. Then he continued: “My guardian that night had been Norman Byrne, but that’s something you should already know.”
Horatio made another step forward and kept his threatening position.
“But the moment I retired, I kept an eye on him, because this night worked on his mind harder than wanted. No wonder: it’s not good to witness the death of a relative, eh? – After three years he wanted to leave New York and… I helped him with a new identity. He stayed a
Jarhead of cause, but was able to get undercover. – I guess his new name will ring a bell for you guys…”
TBC