The Price

DISCLAIMER : The characters and the plot used here are completely fictional. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited

"Psycho” was the only word James Peterson was thinking as he saw his unshaven face in the mirror. “James Peterson” the brain and brawn behind more than eighteen political murders was trying to recollect how he looked by seeing himself in the mirror. He had changed his appearance more than seventeen times and was wanted by more than forty-seven countries across the world. Even if he went to the chief of FBI and introduced himself as James Peterson the chief would give a generic reply of “How could I help you Sir” - that was the brilliance with which he planned his crimes.

As every man, he too had the ambition of becoming the richest, the most powerful and the most famous. Nobody knew that he was a serial rapist and killer “also” who committed those so called heinous crimes just to satisfy his self, that nobody equaled his brilliance in planned crime or covering up an unplanned crime. He was an orphan as he could recollect and was raised in the local city orphanage of the Los Angeles (did some body say crime- Yes Los Angeles the then crime capital of the richest nation on earth).But James was a brilliant student (as being a good student was the only way one can get out of the strict rules of the orphanage before he became 18) and he soon was out of the orphanage and was living on his own before he was 17 and was the leader of a gang of hooligans of his own age and worked for the chino family. His first killing/murder was at the age of 19 and that too of a famous senator. He couldn’t recollect any proper reason for the murder other than that he was paid 500 US$ for the job.

Now he was standing there in front of his mirror thinking about how to pass his evening for which he had many options. Just then the phone rang, that was a very bad thing for James as he never communicated with the outer world through this device. He picked up the device which had leaked the information of so many master planners to their enemies and led them to death.
“Hello, James?”
This was the worst shock he had ever had in his whole life. Somebody calls him and calls by his first name- his brain works fast and tells him that it is wrong number and is meant for somebody else by the name James.
“Sorry wrong number this is not James here”, and he kept the phone without even waiting for the reply.
Even before his fast brain could think anything about this incident the phone rang again, he picked it up and before he could say hello the other side shouts
“Son, Don’t keep the phone, I know you are James Peterson”,
“hickkkk” James skipped a heart beat "that's is not possible”, he blurted out.
“Who are you”,
“I am your father”
“My father is dead, I am orphan”
“No, I am very much alive”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I can’t tell you anything now, come to the Central park the second bench from the east gate 7:00 PM”
“I won’t come there”
“I know you will”
Beep, beep, beep ………the line is dead.
His brain told “This is the most foolishly laid trap ever, and you would be the biggest idiot if you fall for it”
His heart spoke for the first time after 27 years “Hear your heart for once and get to know your parent”
“Aaaahhhhhhhh” he shouted out falling on his knees not able to bear the two organs of his body which were waging a war against each other. MIND AND HEART

James was sitting idle on the park bench watching little kids playing as the sun was setting across the horizon. He never liked kids and never showed mercy towards them. Twice he had killed infants along with their parents who were the actual target. Even as he sat there looking harmless waiting to become the bait and thinking about that call – so absurdly straight forward as if his “so called father” knew every thing about him. This surprised him and left him totally clueless for the first time in his life.

The sun was setting and darkening the now almost emptied park, it was half past seven. A shadow moved across his bench, he turned but before the shadow had left but not without a clue a small piece of folded paper lie on his bench,
“Come to the 152-A, 7th Cross Harrington street”

He caught a cab and pronounced the address, the cab moved to the destination. He started wondering about his father to be a more brilliant criminal than him. Before his already confused thoughts could convert him from a psycho to a confused psycho the cab stopped. He paid the cab driver and got down, He was surprised by the villa standing in the middle of a street full of flats. He walked into the villa and knocked the door. His intention was to place a gun at head of the first person he sees there and get some reason out of this whole situation.

And before the door opened a gun was stuck at his back and by instinct he tried to use his twist and snatch technique one more hand caught his arms and cuffed his wrists. “Too fast”, He was searched, his Biretta taken and then his cuffs were removed and he was pushed into the door which opened with alarming sync to the finish of his search. He was just too surprised to see the disrespect shown by these people towards one of the most wanted criminals of the world. Angry, frustrated and cursing his heart which had spoken to him for the first time in his life and screwed him too, he walked across the large hall which lay before him, at the end of which was a stair case going to the other floors of the villa. As he neared the stairs a man in his early 60’s in a dark suit with a diamond pin walked down it.

“My son”, the old man gasped and reached for his sons arm, which his son just whisked off and moved farther.
“You Bastard”, James shouted “Who are you, what do you want?”
“I am your father, I have been tracking you for past 17 years, I can prove it”, the old man begged.
“Then why did I open my eyes in an orphanage”, James cried, surprised by his own reaction he covered his face with his hands.
As these two twisted characters spent a couple of hours with each other James found out the old man who called himself Dan Peterson had not married his wife until after 2 years of her giving birth of James and she had to put him away in an orphanage and she hadn’t informed him about that son until 10 years after their marriage. James after long time was feeling something other than criminality in his mind. After the stories were told by the father and son to each other and after their reunion which took some time, Dan called for dinner.

On the dinner table Dan sipping his soup pleaded
“Son, I know I am responsible for you being into the criminal world now and I am powerful enough to bring you out of it. Please join me and leave your business”.
“It is too early to think about it and it is too complicated to get out of that world, I am already aaagghhhh……” James fell on the floor and was rubbing his throat as if it had caught fire.
Dan got up from his seat on the table came near James walking as if this was what he was expecting to happen and as though he was satisfied with the timing.
“My son, sorry I had to do this, I am very sorry, god bless your soul”, James stared at Dan as if to ask him something.
“I know what you are thinking, Yes you are poisoned you are going to die within 3 minutes. Won’t you like to know why you are meeting this fate? Pity you are my son and I am not mourning for you, instead I am happy now. Do you remember Cathie?”, Dan smiled.

James’ mind flashed his remembrance of Cathie, Catherine the senator who had been his first victim, whom he had stabbed 13 times just for sake of making the count of 13 though she dint survive even the fifth cut on her body, those 500US$ flashed across his memory and again he stared at Dan as if totally puzzled.

Dan whispered “I tracked you down for so long and I came to know that you were my son two years back.” And then he shouted “You bloody bastard, Cathie was my wife, your damned mother” and kicked James in his stomach. “Remember the name you moron? Catherine Peterson” he shouted again and walked out of the dining hall and the lights faded off as James lie their withering in pain and unable to scream, with tears on his eyes pain his body and no hope of reaching heaven.

The next day’s newspaper read “Body of unknown person found in abandoned villa at 152-A, 7th Cross Harrington street”

He thought he was the best and presumed everyone knows him. But he died as an anonymous person. He paid the price, the price for all his crimes!

***THE END***

With Love,

Image Courtesy : Google Images

P.S : Excuse me for the language I used in this post. Certain words are needed for the story.