Read Online HIS OTHER SON by MAYNARD SIMS - Free Book Online Page A

control. His
mouth and throat were constricted and the only way he could draw breath was
through his nose.
    “Who did you give him?”
    The older woman shrugged. “Past its use by date.”
    “We ought to attend to Mrs.
Stock.”
    The older woman sighed. “I
suppose we have entertained our guest long enough.” She stared down at Anders,
who was shaking feebly as his heart ground to a halt.
    “We’ll clean up.” The blonde
woman nodded at the dark skinned one. “You get started with the old woman?”
     
     
    Randolph Stock felt the veins in his temples pulsing
as he absorbed the fat man’s words.
                “These
are your terms?” he asked quietly.
                The
obese Brother Simon sat, as serene as he had been throughout the meeting. His
breathing was obtrusive, and was the only sound that could be heard in the
study. He merely nodded, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. His breathing
was affected by his weight. Every breath seemed to cause him pain, as if each
one was ripped from his lungs under protest.
                Stock
pressed a button on his chair and it slid silently backwards. He moved to the
small table that held some decanters and glasses. He poured himself another
drink. He didn’t offer any to the others in the room.
                When
he was back behind his desk he took some time in sipping his drink, composing
himself before he spoke. He had felt guilt about killing his son every waking
moment of his life since that night. Most nights he woke in a cold sweat with a
nightmare that was ever present; the Cadillac spinning out of his control, the
steering wheel wrested from his clutching fingers, and the car sailing into
space.
                He
had endured the guilt for barely six months before he did something about it.
The bridge he jumped from was high enough, and the fall ought to have killed
him. He took it as some punishment from on high that all he did was break his
back. Confined to a wheelchair with no feeling below the waist for the rest of
his life was a fitting reminder, second by painful second, that he had killed
his favoured son.
                “So,
let me make sure I have understood you correctly. And I understand these are
Dr. Romodon’s terms, not your own. You have prolonged
my wife’s life in return for money, but you cannot stem the cancer and
eventually she will die.”
                “We
have given her an extra year at most. I regret we share with science the
failure, so far, to find a cure for cancer, but we are closer than the
scientists I can assure you.”
                Stock
closed and opened his eyes. He hadn’t expected Marlene to live as long as she
had and in truth he was grateful to Romodon for the
additional weeks he had been given. When those weeks spread into months he
began to hope it would be endless but he guessed it would not. If he had been
considering his wife’s treatment as a business deal he would have described her
treatment as a loss leader. The Church had treated Marlene, and accepted money,
but not a huge amount, as a kind of promotional venture. Their real intent, the
big prize for them, was Frank Stock.
                “In
return for the renewed life of my son, Frank, you wish to take my
granddaughter, Paula?”
                “A modest request.”
                “For you, maybe. My daughter has been a disappointment to
me, it’s true. And Paula treats me as no more than a nuisance on the occasions
when we converse, but she is family.”
                Brother
Simon allowed an expression to mask his face that might have been taken as
empathy, or understanding. Stock wasn’t fooled. He knew instinctively that the
man was as cold as the desert night and just as barren of emotion.
                Stock
swallowed his whisky. He placed the cigar in the ashtray and steepled his fingers under his chin. “What