HIS OTHER SON by MAYNARD SIMS Read Free Book Online

We’re not talking about
the Son of God.”
                “No,
we’re talking about your son, Mr. Stock. Your son,
Frank. And we are saying that through Dr Romodon and the Church of the Divine Light, your son can be restored to you.”
                “I
need a drink.” Stock turned in his chair and opened the desk drawer and took
out the bottle of whisky and two glasses. “You going to join me?” he said as he
poured the whisky into the first glass.
                “I
regret not. Our faith teaches total abstinence from all forms of stimulants.”
                “Very
noble,” Stock said sourly.
    He was finding it hard to
get a grip on his emotions. He should be feeling elated now. When it was first
suggested to him that there was a possibility Frank could be brought back he’d
been euphoric. That was a little over a year ago. Then the scepticism set in
and he had left the matter alone. He’d supported the Church of the Divine Light
financially at Marlene’s insistence, but had long regarded them as cranks. It
was only over the last two months his scepticism had abated.
    According to Leon Cooperman,
Marlene should be dead. Every day she survived confounded Cooperman more. He
had been against Stock bringing her home from the hospital, and almost
apoplectic when Stock announced that the only nursing care she was going to
receive would come from the Sisters of the Divine Light. Cooperman had been
persistent, and to finally quieten him down Stock had allowed him daily visits
and the pain reducing shots of morphine for Marlene.
                Now,
it seemed to Randolph Stock, that Marlene’s condition was actually improving.
Of course, Cooperman disputed this, as did Caroline. They thought it was just
an old man’s fancy, his inability to face up to the fact the wife he cherished
was soon to be taken from him. But Stock knew differently. On the times he went
to sit with her he would hold her hand, and just lately, instead of her small
withered hand lying inside his like a dead bird, she’d actually been holding
back, gripping his fingers weakly. And there was a light in her eyes when she
looked at him, a vital spark that had been absent for so long. Randolph Stock
was now beginning to believe strongly that if the ministrations of the Church
of the Divine Light could bring about that much improvement in his wife’s
terminal condition, then they may, just may be able to substantiate other, more
outlandish claims.
                He
knew that if there was only one chance in ten million that his son could be
returned to him then he had to take it. So why now did he feel so hostile to
the fat man in the white robe who went by the unlikely name of Brother Simon?
He should be feeling grateful to him. Randolph Stock realized with a shock that
gratitude was a feeling he hadn’t felt for years. He’d forgotten how to express
it.
                But
there was another reason. He didn’t like Brother Simon. He didn’t like the way
the fat man sat opposite him, sweating like a pig and wiping his jowly face
with the sleeve of his robe. He didn’t like the way the man always smiled, as
if his lips had been glued into position. And he didn’t like him because he
didn’t trust him any more than he would trust a sleeping rattlesnake. Over the
course of his business life he’d learned to assess people quickly and
accurately, and there was something about Brother Simon that just didn’t hang
right, and it wasn’t only his white robe.
                “You’re
a surprising man, Mr. Stock,” Brother Simon said.
                “Oh, why?”
                Brother
Simon adjusted himself in the chair again. “Because you are a very shrewd
business man, you must be to have reached the position you now occupy. And yet
not once during the discussions we’ve been having over the last two months have
you asked what the terms would