A Father's Wrath Read Online Free PDF Page A

feeling that
he was the guilty man. “I think it was the ambassador, he looks
like a sicko. You could see it in his eyes.”
    “I thought you didn’t remember him that
well.”
    “I didn’t. I googled him this
morning.”
    “Please, just leave the investigating to us.
I’ll get back to you soon.”
    They ended the call.
    Richie tried to find something to occupy his
mind, but all he could think about was what had happened to his
son. He had a little weed in a coffee can in the garage that he
saved for special occasions. It was dried out, but it still did the
job. Richie smoked a half a joint and fell asleep on the sofa in
front of the TV.
    His cell phone woke him up. He felt
disorientated when he reached for it and answered,
“Hello?”
    “McCoy here. We got the results. The surgeon is
not our man.”
    Richie cleared his throat. “And the
ambassador?”
    “Still waiting for his embassy to get back to
me. They’re giving me the run around. I have another call. I’ll
call you later.”
    Richie rubbed his eyes and looked at the time.
He had slept for three hours, the longest at once since the
fundraiser. He got the other half a joint out of the house, then
nuked a few frozen burritos.
    While eating in front of the TV, he decided to
crack open a cold beer.
    Before he knew it, Richie was halfway through
his second six-pack. He wasn’t drunk, but buzzed enough to make him
want to look for a fight. McCoy hadn’t called him back yet, so he
decided to take things into his own hands.
    While putting on
his boots and coat, Richie said, “The run-around? See if they
give me the
run-around, mother fuckers.”
    He headed out the door, above the level of
legally drunk, and drove north on Route 9 with his second car—a
fifteen year old Volvo that he shouldn’t have been taking on trips
like this.
    There was much more traffic than the day
before, but somehow he made it all the way to Manhattan without
being arrested or getting into an accident.
    He double-parked in front of the embassy of The
Republic of Tan Guk Van, which was on the first and second floors
of a ten-story beige-brick building. Cars honked at Richie as they
passed. He gave them the middle finger, then called
McCoy.
    “McCoy here.”
    “I’m here at the embassy. I’m going
in.”
    “Do not do that. Wait for me. I’ll be right
there.”
    “You better hurry before I find this sicko.”
Richie ended the call before McCoy could respond, then he slammed
another beer and stuffed the empty can under his seat.
    He got out of his car and stormed passed the
pedestrians on the sidewalk and into the embassy.
    Inside, the polished marble floors reminded
Richie of the fancy hotel lobby from the other night. There was a
staircase in the back, then next to that, a hallway.
    Everyone in the building was from The Republic
of Tan Guk Van. Two soldiers at the door armed with AK-47’s, two
women and one man behind the counter, and a few civilians talking
to the workers behind the counter.
    Richie went straight to the front of the line
and in his loudest booming voice, he hollered, “I need to see Ko
Sin Lu! Now!”
    The soldiers at the door moved toward Richie
with their guns pointed at him.
    The civilians scattered.
    Richie yelled, “Put down those fucking guns and
get Ko Sin Lu out here right now!”
    Four other soldiers with AK-47’s came down the
back stairs and surrounded Richie.
    Detectives McCoy and Perez barreled in through
the front door.
    Perez said, “Shit.”
    McCoy showed his empty hands and said,
“Everyone calm down.” He motioned in Richie’s direction. “This man
is unarmed.”
    The soldiers didn’t lower their
guns.
    Richie looked down at the soldiers that were
all half his size. “You shrimps better do what he says. You’re in
America now, fuckers!”
    Perez said, “You’re not helping
things.”
    McCoy spoke slowly to one of the soldiers, “I
already spoke with your commanding officer and told him I was
coming. He said this man would be