Authors: Michael Halfhill

Sons (31 page)

BOOK: Sons

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Her husband added, “I was told there was information concerning our son. After our meeting in Paris, I assumed you were unwilling to help us. Please tell me, what more could we possibly have to say to one another?”

Jan understood the couple’s anger. He had, after all, dismissed the Kwon’s and their anguished plea, believing that there was nothing he could have done to ease the pain of their only son’s brutal murder. That was before Colin, before he understood what it meant to have a son, and what it meant to come so close to losing him.

The memory of his struggle with al-Qâdi’s chief murderer shook Jan’s soul like a rag doll in the hands of a careless child. He kept Ben’s Bowie knife in a locked drawer, a reminder of how near he came to losing the most important battle of his life. Blood began to drain from Jan’s face. His voice dropped to a bare whisper.

“The man who killed your son is dead. I thought you deserved to know. When we last met, you asked me to deliver vengeance to a murderer. Fate, it seems, has delivered justice in place of revenge. It was done without me.”

“How do you know this?” demanded Dr. Kwon.

“I was a witness to his death. I also have physical evidence that it was he who wielded the knife.”

The reference to the manner of his son’s murder caused Dr. Kwon to slump onto a stone bench and begin to weep. “My son, my beautiful son.”

Mrs. Kwon took his hand in hers and said, “At last, my husband, at last, you are free. You can cry.”

A silent breeze stirred in the tall Hanoki cypress. Their feathery fronds swayed, as if the trees themselves were weeping.

Jan stood awkwardly by for a few minutes before touching Dr. Kwon lightly on the shoulder. “Well, I just thought you would want to know. I’ll leave you now.”

Dr. Kwon looked up at Jan. “Mr. Phillips?”

Jan turned to face the couple.

“This man who killed my son… did he… did he die well… I mean, bravely?”

Jan considered the absurdity of the question. Was this a cry for closure? A wry smile crossed his lips.

“Bravely, Dr. Kwon? He died as he lived, with hatred and violence in his heart. I know something of the Muslim faith. Your son was an innocent. Because of this, there will be no place for his murderer in paradise.”

Jan left the couple in a comforting embrace.

As he walked back to the house, he noticed Arata Tsukamoto crossing the gravel garden. Jan gave a silent wave. Arata smiled broadly and held up a tiny cage. Inside, a spider furiously wove her snare, unaware of her captivity.

About the Author

M
ICHAEL
H
ALFHILL
was born in West Virginia just as World War II in Europe was coming to an end. After high school came college at the University of Baltimore and then a stint in the US Army.

Michael has traveled widely in the USA, Europe, Central America, and Asia.

After building a 37-year career in analytical science with the DuPont Company, Michael retired in 2001. In 2002, after a year of hectic boredom, he produced the first of three novels. What began as a distraction has become a passion.

Michael currently lives in northern Delaware. When he’s not writing, Michael, along with his longtime partner, Peter, shows borzoi at local AKC dog shows.

You can reach Michael at

http://www.michaelhalfhill.com
.

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