Sins of the Fathers Read online

  SIX

  JEREMY FACED THE mountain of human being in front of him and thought of Newtonian Physics. All he had to do was remember what Horton had taught him so far, and this should work. They had gone through the motions without any physical contact for the past couple of days after school, laying the crash mats down on the floor of the racket-ball court his father had added onto the house just last winter. Jeremy went over those motions in his head and reminded himself that acceleration is proportionate to mass; a body in motion stays in motion. He splayed his legs shoulder width, the blue crash mat cool and sticky under his feet, and waited for Horton to charge.

  Horton loomed a few feet away, his loose sweat pants and T-shirt masking the bags of iron underneath. The florescent lights shone in a strip of white on one side of his bald head. A dark strip, the absence of light from the observation balcony, reflected off the other side. The effect made it seem as if he had donned war paint for the occasion. He smiled at Jeremy, all dressed up in a starched white karate gi. “You ready, kid?”

  Jeremy frowned, concentrating. “Yeah, I mean... Okay.”

  “You’ll be fine. Just do what I showed you and remember to move in circles.”

  Jeremy was just opening his mouth to say, “I got it,” when Horton launched at him, all pounding footsteps and grasping hands. The big bodyguard destroyed the distance between them in two steps. Horton’s right arm snatched out at the boy’s shoulder, a gripping construction crane. Jeremy was so startled he couldn’t think. As Horton’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, Jeremy grabbed the top of it, his fingers wrapping under the meaty part of Horton’s thumb. Horton bore down, smashing Jeremy’s ten year old frame toward the floor. If Jeremy tried to resist that incredible force, his collar bone would snap, probably his knee as well. So, he didn’t.

  Jeremy twisted and bent backward, falling with the pressure. He ducked under his own arm, the one holding Horton’s thumb, and before he lost his balance, brought his other leg around behind him. Now, he stood next to Horton who continued to fall under the weight of his own attack. While guiding Horton’s momentum with the thumb grip, Jeremy reached out and placed the palm of his other hand against the small of Horton’s back. He gave a little push and the enormous man went flying, head over heals. Horton landed on his back with a “Whuff!”

  Jeremy stood in utter shock. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

  “Whu—,” Horton wheezed, “watch your language, kid.” He sat up and shook his glassy head, turning a grin on the boy. “That was great, Jeremy. Really perfect.”

  Jeremy snapped out of it and ran over to Horton. He slid to his knees next to the big man. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted. “Are you okay, Mr. Horton?” His small hands fluttered just off Horton’s skin, uncertain birds. “I didn’t hurt you or anything, did I?”

  Horton laughed and got to his feet in one easy motion, illustrating that he was not only okay, but could still move like a jungle predator if he wanted to. He took a few steps away from Jeremy and bowed at the waist, keeping eye contact with his incredulous pupil at all times.

  “Just like I told you, kid. That’s one of the neat things about Aikido. If you do it just right, you can’t even hurt the punk tryin’ to mess with you. You just kinda’ redirect em’.”

  Jeremy returned the bow and gave a shaky smile. “I’m surprised I even remember what to do. You scared the heck outta’ me.”

  “You didn’t remember what to do.”

  “But I thought you said—”

  Horton closed his eyes and waved a hand. “Your brain didn’t remember.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Horton explained, “I wanted you not to be able to think about what you were doing, so you wouldn’t have time to hesitate.”

  A voice floated down from the observation deck. “Muscle memory, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy’s insides tore. Half of him cartwheeled, the other half scuttled back into the shadows. He squinted up into the dark observation balcony: a strip where the wall had been removed and covered with a fine netting to keep stray racket balls from bouncing out. Frank Mason moved forward into the light.

  Jeremy shouted, “Dad!”

  “Welcome home, sir,” Horton said.

  “Muscle memory,” Mason repeated.

  Jeremy and Horton both straightened.

  “Yes, sir,” Jeremy said.

  Horton looked at his feet. He needed new tennis shoes.

  Mason softened a little. “You did a fine job, son.”

  Jeremy blushed. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Horton?” Mason called down.

  “Yes, Mr. Mason?”

  “I’d like to see you in my study if the lesson is over.”

  “It is, sir.”

  Mason smiled. “Twenty minutes okay?”

  “Of course.” Shit, he was in trouble.

  Mason checked his watch. He frowned, licked a finger, and rubbed something dark from the crystal. It was four thirty. He turned his eyes on his son. “You finish your homework?”

  Jeremy’s voice rose. “I only have to read a little—”

  “Get it done and then come to my study.”

  Jeremy’s shoulders dropped. “Yes, sir.”

  Mason turned and disappeared from view. Jeremy and Horton heard a door close a moment later. Horton wondered what the kid’s life would be like if he hadn’t caught that bullet for Mason. He put on a warm smile for the boy. “You did a great job, kid.”

  Jeremy smiled, but it didn’t get to his eyes, not even close. “Thanks,” he said. “I’d better go finish up my homework.”

  “What’s the subject?”

  “Astronomy.”

  “You’ll get an A.”

  This time Jeremy smiled for real. Horton reached out and roughed the boy’s hair as they made for the exit.

  Up in the observation balcony, standing next to the door through which he’d only pretended to walk, Frank Mason listened. When boy and bodyguard left, he nodded. They were still his.

  * * *