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36
It was almost one in the afternoon before I got through all the red tape, and my nerves were on edge. My African friend, the Repairman, was nowhere to be found when I walked back out to my car. I looked all around in the parking lot, and even leaned against the car for a minute, expecting him to approach. He was nowhere to be seen. I didn't know what to make of it, but I had to assume he had his reasons. I started the car and headed out.
While waiting back at the station, I had formulated a little plan of action. First, I would return to check on Amy. Next, I would see what I could find online about Romeo di Marti. Then, I would see if I could find anything about "Glory Dawn" or "The Maker Song." You never knew what you might find online. Finally, after I was sure everything was okay, I'd go back to my place to make sure everything was okay. I didn't keep too many valuable things in there, but there were a few items that, if anyone found them, I'd hate to part with. I'd have to be stealthy, though, to avoid the guy who'd been there last night.
I was almost a block away from the station when I first noticed the motorcycle. I was scanning for patterns in the mirrors, like Dad had taught me, and I picked it up. I didn't see if it had come out of the station parking lot, and I couldn't see from this angle what the driver was wearing. I had only turned once, though, so it might be nothing.
They had left my computer in the backseat. That was good because I had a feeling it would have taken them two hours to find it back at the station. I was glad it was Fall. If it had been summertime, the computer would have been toast after sitting out for that long. Glancing in my mirror again, I saw that the motorcycle had gotten closer. Still, I was going straight. Might be nothing.
I reached over and opened the glove box and fished inside for my phone. Looking at it, I saw that it had one bar of remaining battery, three missed calls and one voicemail. The missed calls were all from the same number, and I didn't recognize it. I hit the button to check the voicemail and placed the phone to my ear.
"Mr. Sayer, this is Detective Al Hall with the Fort Worth Police Department. We've been asked to remove your car from the parking lot where you left it and I'm having it impounded. Please give me a call at this number when you get this message. I have a couple of questions for you." That was it. Al Hall? I didn't know him, but the name sounded familiar. Al Hall. He must have been the Detective Hall that they talked about at the police station. I didn't know too much about police work, but I knew it didn't take a Detective to impound a car. Oh well. He had my number and address. I'd let him explain it to me if he ever came into the office. I had enough to worry about.
When I made the turn onto Morris, the motorcycle stayed right with me. Now he had my attention. I looked more closely. The driver looked like a man. He had on gloves, a leather jacket and a helmet. His pants looked like those the African had been wearing, but there was nothing terribly unique about them. It could be the African, or it could be the asshole from the parking lot last night. Until I knew, I couldn't lead him toward Amy.
Quickly, without signaling, I turned into the next driveway, a local burger place, and pulled into a parking spot, killing the car. I hopped out, looked right at the cyclist and pointed my finger at him. "I see you," I whispered to myself. He started to drive past the burger joint, but I'd already seen him looking at me and he'd already seen me pointing at him. He pulled into the next driveway and, weaving around through the parking lot, pulled up beside me. Planting his feet on the ground, he killed the bike and removed his helmet. It was the African.
"Hello, brother," he smiled. "I'm glad we can talk."
"Yes," I said. "I've never seen brother around here before." I leaned back against the car.
"My father sent me," he said, walking over to lean beside me. "He is old now, and will soon enter into our rest."
"My father is there now," I said. "Cancer."
"Yes, I know," the man smiled. "What Knight does not know the name Sayer? Your father is a great man. His sickness was a shame."
"It really was," I said. "So, you know my name, but I do not know yours."
"Mollel," he said, "our family is not so well-known as yours. We are not Sword Masters."
"You are of the family of Joseph Mollel, the healer?"
"He is my grandfather," he smiled. "I am honored that you know his name, since it is my name. I am Joseph," he reached for my hand and shook it firmly and correctly, with all the signs.
"Your family are all healers?" I asked.
"We are," he said. "My father is greater even than my grandfather, though not as well known."
"Good to meet you, Jospeh," I said. "And you? Are you greater than your father?"
"He thinks so."
"And what do you think?"
"Well, Simon, let me ask you. Everyone knows the Sword Master David Sayer. Many have said he was the Avenger. Now, they say that you are greater even than he was in life. What do you say?"
"Oh," I laughed. "I'm pretty sure my Dad could kick my ass all over this parking lot."
"Yes," he smiled. "And after he did, you would do better to have my father attend to you than me, I think."
I liked this guy. "I bet you could show him a trick or two, though," I said.
"As could you."
"I guess." I doubted it, though. My Dad was really something else. I was no slouch, but he was amazing.
"Simon," he said, sounding more serious. "Is there somewhere we can go to talk? I need a favor from you, but I do not think we should talk openly out here."
"Of course," I said. "Just follow me."
"Yes," he said. He stood up and walked back over to his bike, putting on his helmet, and I got in and started the car. I was actually glad he was here, and I wanted him to meet Amy. Maybe he could help me think back over everything we'd found out and give me some advice. It was amazingly good to have a brother to talk to.
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