Devin’s Mile 

By Boadicea

Devin stood atop the roof of the great Dylan Hotel, waiting in the shadows. He knew his hunter was near. Pulling his dark cloak tighter around his broad shoulders, at just sixteen years Devin stood an impressive six foot five, even taller than his Father, giving poor Lena and many of the tunnel seamstresses plenty of worries to keep him clothed. His cloak alone took his Mother and Lena a week to make to cover his large physique.

His deep green eyes scanned the buildings near by, but saw nothing of his hunter. Then with a small laugh he sniffed the air, but wrinkled his nose

“Must be laundry day,” Devin grumbled to no one as the stench of starch and dry cleaning chemicals rose up around him. “Well, could be worse,” He thought of his brother Charles, who had been hunted in the same manner, stifling a burst of laughter as he thought of his stiff and very stoic older brother stuck in the main sewer tunnels just as the city began flushing that section of the tunnels.

That embarrassing moment for his older brother was forgotten when he heard the sound he had been waiting for, the soft crunch of gravel on the rooftop. As quietly as he could he pulled his hood up over his long golden -brown hair, and shielding his body as best he could he slipped into the shadows of the heating vents.

‘Gotch-ya, old man,’ Devin thought to himself as he watched the hunter’s dark shadow looking about in confusion. Slowly he moved to the roof’s edge, looking down onto the busy streets below. The hotel’s lights bathed him in their glow, as Devin watched; he turned his head left to right, and then he left out a soft growl of frustration at having lost his prey yet again.

Devin’s full lips broke out into a triumphant grin, for the hunter now became the hunted. The sound of his pursuer’s breathing made this moment all the sweeter, as Devin slowly crept up to him. His soft suede boots never making a sound as he came up behind his prey. Forming his large hands into claws, and with the speed of a striking snake, he sank them into his opponent’s ribs, and he yelled into the hunter’s ear, “Tag, you’re it!”

“Devin Peter Wells,” Vincent roared at his son’s cruel jest. Vincent grabbed at his heart and turned to face his son. “My son,” he rasped , “You, you have scared ten years off me! I am fifty-four years old!”

Devin reached up and clasped his father’s shoulders, laughing heartily as he said, “But Father…was it not your idea to test the Bond we share?” 

In irritation, Vincent let out a soft growl of frustration at his son beating him at his own game, he replied, “I could have sworn I had you cornered behind the Central Synagogue. How did you escape before I found you, my son—“

 Still laughing, Devin shrugged as he answered, “Am I not to have my own secrets, Father? Face it, I won… and you’re a sore loser!”

“I may be the loser this time, my son, however the sore part is very true.” Vincent said as he rubbed his now aching joints.

“Care to try again?” Devin teased.

“No, Devin, the hour is late and I grow tired. Scaling buildings is not the easy task it was in my youth, now come, I do not wish to give your Mother any need to worry.”

“Or more gray…hair?” Devin’s voice trailed away as his eyes focused on a narrow red beam of light coming from the window across the street. “Father, what is that?”

Vincent saw it as well. He watched as the beam lowered to the traffic below, gripping the railing. Vincent’s past dealings with such things came to the forefront of his mind, and a soft growl of warning reached Devin as he heard his Father’s reply. “It is Death’s knell.”

Then a long black stretch limousine pulled up in front of the hotel,  surrounded by what Devin thought was the entire New York Police Department. Blessed with his Father’s eyesight, Devin could see that the limo had diplomatic flags affixed to the front and back. He recognized them instantly. Quickly he grabbed his Father’s shoulder.

“Father, those flags,” he pointed. “I know them! They are from the royal house of Saud, as in Saudi Arabia!” In disgust he whispered, “May as well have painted a bull’s eye on them.”

“Devin,” Vincent warned. “We must leave…now!”

But when the light vanished, Devin watched as a large group of bodyguards surrounded the limo. Devin’s eyes scanned back to where the red light came from, and there in the shadows he saw the assassin’s outline in the window. His mind made up, he looked back at his Father, as Vincent was about to go over the other side of the roof.

“Father, they don’t see him…we can’t leave them!” 

“Devin,  we must—“

“No, I can’t!”

Without waiting, Devin pulled out his latest gift from Uncle Mouse, a long stretch of bungee cord. Tying one end quickly to the flag pole and the other to his ankle, he took off at a dead run, leaping over the side before Vincent could argue further. 

“You heed warnings as well as your namesake!” Vincent grumbled as he dashed down the side of the building as fast as he could after his wayward son.

By the time he reached the side alley where his son was hidden, Vincent watched as an older man stepped out of the limo, dressed in a traditional white and gold egal and shora, with the gold embroidered abaya, worn only for special occasions.

 Devin instantly recognized him as the newest King of the house of Saud. The man turned back to the limo and held out his hand to someone else inside the limo.

A slim hand reached out to grasp the older man’s. The world seemed to stop in that instant for Devin as he saw the exotic beauty who stepped out onto the sidewalk. She was about five feet tall. Though her lower face was covered by the soft silk of her blue veil, her almond-shaped eyes were what drew his attention most, darkened by the traditional kohl on the lids, and for a moment in time their eyes locked. Through her thin veil she smiled at him and her eyes seemed to focus on him alone in the shadows. 

Even with the cameras flashing, and people crowding all around them, they never saw the threat looming above them. Devin was brought back to reality when he saw the glint from the rifle. “Devin!” was all he heard from his Father before he ran headlong into the swarming crowd around the royal pair. With his immense size Devin barreled through the crowd as if they were bowling pins, his eyes on the woman who stood in the path of the assassin’s bullet, and just as he scooped her up all hell had literally broken loose in front of the hotel. When this happened Vincent charged right after his son with a mighty roar and the crowd began to scatter as bullets rained down from above.

The windows in the hotel shattered as the bullets ricocheted off the limousine and sidewalk, Vincent saw the King helpless as his daughter was carried off by a stranger, but stranger still was the being who snatched him up as well, to hurry after the one who had taken his only child. He was screaming insults in his native tongue at who would dare kidnap them. That is, until a light from the street lit up and revealed the face of the man carrying him. “By Allah,” he gasped, when he looked into the face of legend. “It, it is you!” Vincent paid him no heed as he saw a sanctuary, a dark hotel under construction several blocks away. He knew Devin was already there, so placing the King on his unsteady feet, Vincent called, “Devin, watch them,” and then he was gone. 

“Father,” Devin called quietly, still holding the woman in his arms, but his Father was gone. As the adrenaline slowly began to fade, Devin realized that in Islamic law it was forbidden to touch such women. So as carefully as possible, he set her on her feet and backed away slowly, bowing to the King in apology. Then using as much as he could remember of his Mother’s lessons in etiquette, he addressed the King. “My most profound apologies, Sir, I would not have touched your, your…” Devin’s voice trailed off; he was not sure who this woman was to the older man.

“Wife, or concubine,” he wondered to himself. “My daughter,” the King whispered as he swept his child into his arms. “Are you hurt, were you shot? I swear by Allah, I will make those responsible for this to pay, I shall have them flogged till Mohammed himself begs me to stop!”

“Father…father, I am unharmed,” she calmly said lifting her hand to Devin, “with many thanks to this kind man.” 

Stunned beyond belief, Devin stood in the dark with his mouth open, when he discovered he had saved the named heir to the throne of all Arabia.

“You, you’re the Princess Yathmina?” Devin said with awe.

“Crown Princess,” Yathmina corrected him. “But, kind boy, now who do I have the honor of thanking for saving me and my Father?”

 Devin again remembered his Mother’s teaching and tried to give Yathmina his best in a courtly bow, before telling her his name.

“I am Devin Wells, your highness.” Smiling in gratitude, she took his hand and whispered to him, “Please, Devin, call me Yathmina; you have done our country a great service in saving our lives.” Looking around she noticed that Vincent was nowhere. Looking back at Devin she asked, “But where is the other, the one who saved my Father?”

At this the King came to his daughter, speaking in their own language. Devin picked up some of what they were saying. It was something about ‘The Great One’. He watched as Yathmina’s eyes grew large in the pale light coming from a nearby streetlamp, surprised by what her Father was saying.

“Are you sure,” came her hushed voice. The King nodded to her in answer. “Then… what Grandmother said…it is happening?” Yathmina said with awe, shaking her head in disbelief; she looked Devin straight in the eye and asked, “The man that was with you, who he is to you, please, you must tell me, much rests on your answer.”

Devin hesitated; how could he tell her anything, he knew he was already in trouble for what he had just done. Then again, hundreds of people just witnessed him and his Father rushing into the crowd to save these very important people. Before he could even form an answer in his mind, a powerful scent of iron and copper filled the air.

Dropping his voice so that even the King and Princess had to strain to hear him, Devin pointed to the huge crates stacked up behind them. “Get back,” was all he said. Devin waited until they ducked behind them before he ran to where the smell was strongest. There he saw a lumbering shadow stumble through the broken door which he himself had broken to gain access. Staying to the shadows Devin waited, holding his breath until he sensed who it was just as Vincent dropped an unconscious man at Devin’s feet.

“Father,” Devin gasped, just as Vincent fell to his knees. Devin realized that the blood in the air that was choking to Devin was coming from his father and his fear grew. “You’re hurt, what happened, Father…Father?”  Vincent did not answer as he struggled to breathe. Reaching for his son, Vincent fell to the floor. Devin dropped to his knees, turning his father over to face him, and Devin then saw the spreading blood stain over his Father’s chest. 

“Oh God…dear God, no,” he gasped, “Father, Father, wake up…please wake up!”

Behind the crates the King and his daughter stood in shock as the realization finally hit them.

“Father,” Yathmina whispered hoarsely…”it is him!” Getting up she rushed off to where she heard Devin cry out for his father.

When she reached them her Father ran after her, just as amazed as she, knowing that, and he remembered the great tales his Mother would tell, foretelling of the last of the Great Ones and his son. 

Dropping to the dust-covered floor, Yathmina saw for herself the ancient tale come to life there before her eyes. Calmly she reached down and laid a comforting hand to this unusual, still face. At her gentle touch Vincent‘s eyes opened.

“Ca-Catherine,” Vincent wheezed, but when his eyes focused he saw who it was. Looking over her shoulder he saw the older man looking down in disgust at the would-be assassin. Then looking back at his son and the young woman next to him, he rasped, “I, I need…Below…can’t stay here! Must get Below…too many…saw us.” 

Fear struck Devin, as he knew there was no tunnel entrance anywhere nearby. “Father, the nearest tunnel entrance is too far…I don’t know what to do, you are too weak to make it.”

“Help me, my son…we must not stay…I will be discovered!” But when Vincent struggled to rise, the pain caused him to black out. In panic, Devin looked to the Princess and her Father as his mind worked frantically to think of what to do. Then, in such a caring way, the Princess laid her hand over Devin’s at his Father’s bleeding chest.

“Please,” she implored him. “For what you and your Father have risked, please be our guests; allow my Father’s surgeons to see to his wounds.”

“But, but…he will be discovered!” Devin stammered. “So many times he has been hurt by your world—“

“Young man,” the King interrupted. “I make this vow to you, by Allah I shall not let any ills befall your Father; the hotel is under my country’s jurisdiction, and he will be protected! I shall let no harm befall “The Great One.”

Without thinking, Devin’s decision was made; turning to the Princess, his fears showing in his eyes, he implored them, “Save him…please,” then looking down at his still Father he whispered softly, “Forgive me, Father.”

Yathmina quickly took out her cell-phone and called the limo to where they were hidden. Quickly the King took off his cloak, draping it over Vincent.

“Yathmina, tell them to hurry and to have my surgeons prepare for our injured guest!”

Looking down at his Father, Devin prayed he had made the right decision. 

“They are on their way, Father, and your medical team is standing by!” Yathmina said as she dropped her phone and went to where her Father now stood over the man who had tried to kill them. Her hand flew to her mouth in horror. “Father…it cannot be! I knew he was bitter…but to try this!” Staring down at the man on the floor, she recognized him as her own cousin.

“It was only a matter of time, dear child,” the King whispered to her. “He knows nothing of honor; for this he will suffer!”

“Are you kidding me,” Devin said as he rechecked his Father’s pulse, still there but weak. “You’re telling me you brought this here?”

Turning to him, Yathmina said, “We came here to work out a peace agreement between our nations! We wanted change…it is time for change! Have I not proved it by putting an end to the warring factions of Iraq and Iran, by making them our territories?  I am a woman, and in Islamic rules I have defied everything to save these countries from ripping themselves apart!”

“Yathmina,” her Father warned as he saw vibrant blue eyes staring up at them. “This is neither the time nor place for such matters.”

As he was reprimanding his child, the room suddenly filled with the King’s own royal guards and the New York Police Department. Both groups were shouting all at the same time.

“Freeze—“

“Don’t move—“

Several of the King’s Guards roughly dragged Devin away from Vincent. Chaos ran rampant until a lion -like roar filled the room, as Vincent struggled to his feet, gasping for breath, and clutching at his chest; he growled menacingly at the guards that held his son. All in the room froze at the sight of this lion-man. Most of the NYPD had heard the urban legend of this man, and held their guns at the ready. The King and Yathmina held their breath, afraid the policemen would open fire on their savior. But what happened next surprised the police beyond belief. The King’s bodyguards released Devin the instant they saw Vincent standing before them. Then the King’s entire entourage dropped to their knees before Vincent at the sight of the Great One before them. Seconds ticked by in silence, and then slowly they began to stand. The King barked orders and they slowly stepped toward Vincent, but he growled even louder in warning. Yathmina stepped up to him with her hand held out as she would have to one of her prized Arabian mares. 

“Please, Great One,” she spoke softly; “You must let us help you.”

“Father,” Devin pleaded as he came to stand beside her.

Something in Vincent gave way as it took all his strength to just stand. Suddenly his eyes rolled back in his head and he started to pass out from blood loss. The King’s guards rushed forward, catching him before he hit the floor.

“Now,” shouted the King. “Get him to the limo, hurry, children!” 

Quickly they moved him out of the hotel and into the limo with the King, Yathmina, and Devin close behind. When they were safely inside, the tires squealed to hurry them back to the Dylan Hotel with what seemed the entire NYPD trying to keep up. The King commanded the driver to go to the rear entrance of the hotel, “and tell my surgeons they had better be ready when we get to our suite!”

The limo came to a screeching halt, and the guards hurried Vincent out; the King replaced Vincent’s covering but with little success, and the press with their cameras were relentless as they tried to capture pictures of what was being carried through the service entrance. Vincent was rushed through the kitchens straight to the service elevator, then finally the sound of the elevator’s chime was heard as they arrived at the Presidential Suite. Orders were again barked by the King and it was difficult for Devin to keep up, as the surgeons paused in awe at the strange guest brought before them.

They recovered quickly as they set Vincent onto the bed. The surgeons then went to work quickly to save this legendary man laid out before them, who was bleeding badly. They worked as fast as their skilled hands could to get the bullet out.

“They must be careful,” Devin shouted as he rushed to the bed, but Yathmina caught his arm before he could make it. Turning to her, he explained with great agitation. “Please…his physiology…they could kill him!”

“Trust in them, Devin…they will let no harm come to him,” and peering toward her Father she said quietly, “He is under my Father’s protection, if he dies—“

Devin then understood and nodded as her meaning was quite clear. If Vincent was to die, so would the surgeons.

As the doctors worked, Devin again heard bits and pieces of what the King was telling them. And again he heard the words, ‘Great One.’

Turning to the Princess he asked, “Okay…out with it! What is this Great One deal? I heard you and your Father going on about how my father is this Great One?”

Looking up at him with a surprised expression, she asked, “You speak Arabic?”

Devin gave her one of his most mischievous smiles, before answering, “You ever heard the old saying, ‘It takes a village to raise a child?’  Well,where I come from that is so very true and in my village there are many nationalities.” Then pinning her with his eyes he again repeated his question. “The Great One story…spill it.”

She then indicated to the other servants in the room to bring chairs. “You may wish to sit, it is a very long story,” she said, then glanced over at the bed at the surgeons working tirelessly on Devin’s Father. “We have time.”

After they sat, Yathmina told him the tale of how long ago there once was a mighty race of warriors known as the ‘Great Ones’.

“My Grandmother was a great Fatima of my Father’s Bedouin tribe. She foretold that one day the last of the ‘Great Ones’ would rise up from the Earth, bringing with him his son to save our peoples once more. His son would become the one to join the brothers and sisters of our sands.”

She paused as some of her Father’s men rushed into the room; they spoke too fast for Devin to understand, and even Yathmina had difficulty, for it was in the seldom used dialect of the Mazandarani.

Both stood as Yathmina stopped them with a hard look. A little slower this time, they repeated to her what had caused them so much agitation.

“They say,” Yathmina said, interpreting for Devin, “that your Father was seen after all! It is on the news right now!” Quickly one of the servants turned on the big-screen television, and there to the world was a close-up of Vincent’s face as he was rushed into the back entrance.

Devin’s eyes nearly widened at the sight. Bits and pieces of what the reporter was saying flitted in and out of his consciousness. 

“Is this hero’s face some hoax,” said one reporter.

“Who is this man—“

“What does this mean for us as a nation—“

“Devin,” at first Devin missed his Father’s hoarse plea but Yathmina touched Devin’s arm.

“Your Father, he is awake,” she whispered.

Devin ran to the bed where his Father laid. He heard the surgeons speaking amongst themselves, remarking that they had done all they could, the rest was up to him, but their words faded as Devin wept with relief at seeing his Father’s eyes open and looking up at him.

“I am well, my son. He hissed slightly at the pain he was in.

“Father…I am so sorry—“

Taking his son’s hand, Vincent shook his head. “Don’t be,” he whispered back. “I would not have stood idly by had that been your mother.”

Then for the first time Vincent looked about the stately room and all the people surrounding him. Old fears nearly stole his breath away as past memories came flooding back- of men in white coats. Struggling to sit up and get off the bed, it took both Devin and Yathmina to encourage him to lay still. The young woman could see the growing fear in Vincent’s eyes; again and in a soft and calming voice the exotic young woman said, “Please, my lord, you must rest; the stitching will not hold if you move about too much.”

She turned her head for a moment as one of the doctors whispered something to her. Nodding, she turned back to Vincent. “It would not be wise for you; they feared giving you any sort of sedation, so please rest.”

Looking up at her curiously, Vincent asked, “You see me…but you are not afraid…why, how?”

“It is a long story and one I would greatly enjoy telling you, if I may, but when you are better,” Yathmina answered him, “but for now…is there anyone you need to call?”

At her question, Devin groaned loudly as he ran his hand over his face. Vincent closed his eyes as he whispered, “She knows…my son, she knows,” then opening his eyes and turning to his son, Vincent added, “If this did not kill me…she soon will.”

“Father,” Devin scolded him. “Don’t…joke about…oh damn,” as on the television screen he could see his mother arguing heatedly with the hotel security and even the royal bodyguards. Never backing down, the small older woman stood her ground.

“She is like a force of nature,” Yathmina gasped as she watched Catherine. “Who is this woman?”

“My mother,” Devin groaned.

“Your, your mother,” she said with awe. Recovering quickly, she looked up to her Father, and after that silent exchange, the King hurried from the room, signaling to his closest bodyguards to follow.

“She will be brought to you, Devin, they shall not harm her.”

“Yeah,” Devin whispered. “Who will stop her from harming us?”

“I am sure that once she sees that you both are safe—“

“You don’t understand,” Devin said, cutting her off. “My, our world, our family is in danger, my brothers and sisters!”

“There are more of you?” she asked.

Devin then dropped his head at his runaway mouth.

“I believe…the cat’s out…of the bag…Devin,” Vincent tiredly said as he felt Catherine coming nearer.

“What’s it Grandfather used to say,” Devin said in remembrance, “Ah, in for a penny, in for a pound?”

Vincent hissed in pain as he struggled to keep from laughing, and when the pain subsided in his chest he said sadly, “I fear that with your mother…she will demand a pound of our flesh.”

Devin then jumped from the bed when the elevator chimed and a woman flew straight to where Vincent lay.

“Ca-Catherine,” Vincent whispered to her as she dropped to her knees weeping at the sight of him.

“Shh, shh, my Catherine—“Vincent tried to soothe her.

“Oh god…I thought, then word you were shot, and Devin, and…oh my god…where is Devin?”

“Here, mother,” he answered hastily.

Catherine grabbed him, hugging him tightly, assuring herself that he was all right. Catherine pulled back to look up into his face, with both gratitude, and then anger.

“Do you realize what you both have done—“Catherine began to scold him.

“Mom, I had to…if we did nothing—“

“I and my father would have been killed in your streets,” Yathmina added for Devin.

Catherine spun around to see the young girl standing there behind her, someone she knew from her father’s past. Looking back and forth to the older man beside her, she knew instantly who this man was.

“I, I remember you,” she said as she stepped toward the King. “Your Father hired my dad…or rather the law firm he worked for, Charles Chandler.”

King Abdullah looked at her for a moment as it slowly dawned on him. “Yes, yes, I remember, fine man. He saved my father from buying into a corporation that was embezzling money from its own employees.”  Offering his hand to her, he shook it proudly. Then taking his hand from her, he took his daughter’s hand.

“My child, this is Miss…er, Mrs.—“

“Mrs. Wells, but please, call me Cathy.”

Yathmina took her hand and bent her head over it, humbly thanking her. “Cathy, I am truly honored to meet you. You, and The Great One, have done well to have raised such a son.”

“Great One?” Catherine asked in confusion, turning to Devin; he shook his head.

“Later, mom trust me,” Devin answered. “You are never going to believe this one…it makes the whole Gentian thing a walk in the park.” The King interrupted, as one of his P.R. people was whispering to him, “Turn up the volume! You must hear this!”

As Yathmina turned up the volume, a reporter was standing in front of a huge crowd that assembled in the streets singing and dancing.

“This is Adb al Hakim, reporting for Al-Jazeera, CNN, in the streets of Dubai. At what can only be described as a massive celebration here in the city, birthplace of the future Crown Princess Yathmina.”

The camera panned out to show the crowd of people singing praises to ‘The Great One’ and his son for risking their lives to save their King and his only heir.

“A thousand blessings upon them,” said one man.

“Allah, be praised! Bless the Great One for saving our future!”

“Death to our betrayer,” screamed a heavily covered woman in black. “Give us the head of the Assassin!”

On and on the praises went; Catherine smiled a watery smile as she felt her husband’s hand slip into hers, giving it a gentle tug. At this Catherine sank down to sit beside him on the bed. She heard his soft voice whisper.

“I’m free…she promised I would be free.” 

Unsure of whom or what he spoke, Catherine’s eyes never left the screen of the celebrations taking place in a distant land.

The King then turned to Devin and Catherine. “There you see, my people honor him! You and your family…they must be our guest in my land! “

Catherine then looked to Devin. His eyes pleaded with her.

Shaking her head, she hesitantly said, “I, I just don’t know.”

“Please, Mom,” Devin begged.

“But…what about, Devin, we must think of the others!” She answered.

“Please, dear Catherine,” Yathmina implored her. “Whatever secret you wish to keep will be yours and yours alone. We have…people who will make sure that it will never be found. You have my oath. Only please come to our palace. It would be a great honor to have you there.”

“Besides Mom,” Devin cut in, and then quietly he whispered to her, “It would be a great dishonor to them if we refuse.”

Catherine sighed heavily as her mind was filled with indecision. “Devin—“

But looking into his eyes, she knew she could not refuse him.

“Fine,” she finally answered. Then more to herself she said; “I knew it was strange when you attached yourself to that professor from Iran…I’m glad now you did.”

As the King talked amongst his press people, another man came to the King.

“Sir, there is a States Attorney here named Joseph Maxwell, who wishes to speak with you and The Great One.”

“Oh, Joe,” Catherine groaned, as Joe was led in.

He took one look at Catherine, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, you two never do anything small, do you?”

“Not tonight, Joe…Vincent’s been hurt, can’t this wait?” She begged.

“Sorry, Radcliff,” Joe said, “but your boys here really stepped in it this time.” Turning to Devin he asked, “Oh by the way…who won the chase? My money was on the old man.”

Devin flashed him his most devilish smile, before answering, “I hope it wasn’t too much, scared the fur right off his face, Uncle Joe.”

“Damn,” Joe cursed as he thought of the wager he made with Howie the taxi driver. “There goes my day off, now I gotta clean out that cab of his.”

At Joe and Devin’s bantering, Vincent awoke then and watched them silently. When Joe saw him he again shook his head.

“Boy, I bet your pops is rolling over in his grave about now, huh?” Joe teased.

“Thankfully he is at rest,” Vincent sighed as Catherine and some of the servants piled pillows behind him to help him sit up better. “Or else he would most assuredly have a coronary over this.”

Then Joe’s smile disappeared as he went straight into lawyer mode.

“All right, Vinnie, I hate to have to do this but…well, you know,” Joe said apologetically. “But the sooner you tell me what happened, the sooner I can start working on this,” and pausing he then turned to the King.

 “However, things would move a lot faster ,Your Majesty, if your nephew down in lockup didn’t have diplomatic immunity blocking our way…if you know what I mean?”

With a simple clap of his hand, one of his retainers came to him. “Awaken Al-Haddim.” The man ran from the room. “Consider it rescinded, my solicitor here in Manhattan will cede to anything your government asks; take my nephew…as a measure of our good faith, and do with him as you would any in your country.” The King left him at that to see to other affairs.

“Damn,” Joe chuckled, “never saw that coming so easily and turning to Vincent, who looked worn and ragged, he said, “I’ll make this as quick and as painless as possible.”

Tiredly Vincent nodded, and starting from the beginning he told of the chase with Devin up to the moment he left them at the construction site.

“When they were safe, I hurried to the building across the street where the assassin hid. As I came to the alley, he came running out at me and fired as I neared him. I then knocked the gun he carried away; it should be there under a dumpster, beside the Sushi Mesa. I then knocked him unconscious and carried him to The Omni Hotel, the one being reconstructed.”

Vincent paused as he heard a soft whistle from Joe, as his eyes darted to Catherine.

“I know, Joe…I know, he’s not going to be happy about this,” Catherine said in annoyance.

“What, Catherine?” Vincent asked.

When she did not answer right away, Joe filled in for her.

“Oh, jeez, Radcliff, he had to hide them there? In that one…listen up, Vinnie, you stowed the royal family in the new hotel owned by Elliott Burch.”

“So much for staying out of his life,” Catherine grumbled.

“I think I can work out something…don’t worry, Radcliffe,” Joe assured her as he scribbled down the last of Vincent’s statement. Then to Vincent he said, “You guys know this is gonna be the biggest thing here since 9/11, but hell, this town needed something good for a change,” and shaking his head, he handed off his report to his open-mouthed assistant. “We got work, pal, shut it and move it.  You know, Radcliffe …this might even get me a good seat in the state house…you two may be a pain in my ass, but this, you never know.”

With a quick hug to Catherine and a wave to Devin, Joe left for what he knew was going to be a very long night.

Worriedly, Devin went to his mother and father. “What do we do now Mom…Dad’s been discovered, the world knows about him.”

Taking his hand, she smiled that smile, which always comforted him. Then she said, “We live with this as we always have, Devin…one day at a time, for this is now your mile we must walk.”

 “Have courage, my son…that all will be well,” Vincent assured him.

“How, how do you know Father?” Devin asked.

“You’re as clever as your namesake…these things always turned around for him, trust that it will for you, my son.”

(Trust in the Fate that has been laid, for those who believe shall not be deceived.)

  Fin

  (Hugs and love to those who helped me through my fan fiction…this one’s for you Lyn, thank-you.)