The Coptic Secret by Gregg Loomis Read Free Book Online Page B

of pavement lined with blossoming trees that pointed like an arrow to the high- rise office buildings of downtown. That was the only thing unchanged. Today was also the first time Lang had had Manfred to himself. There had been moments when Gurt had been running errands or absent for some other reason but never far away. Lang's anticipation of the event had been more disturbing than the prospect of seeing his condo for the first time since the explosion. Lang was a newcomer in his son's life. What if the kid suddenly decided he wanted his mother? What if he suddenly got sick, developed one of those childhood diseases that seemed to come and go with the irregular suddenness of summer thunderstorms? There wasn't any Parenting for Dummies on the bookstore shelves.
    Lang had fabricated a dozen excuses, some very good, why taking Manfred along was not a good idea. He was relieved when Gurt had dismissed them all with an arched eyebrow, an observation that children were not breakable and a reminder Lang had a lot of catching up to do.
    The uncertainties evaporated as soon as Manfred put his small hand in Lang's, looked up with blue eyes expressing only pleasurable expectations and asked, "Where are we going today? Can Grumps come?"
    How hard could fatherhood be?
    Hadn't he been the closest thing to a father his nephew Jeff had? And Jeff had been only a year or so older than Manfred when Janet had adopted him. They had become instant buddies. Manfred would be fine. So would Lang.
    Smelling of burned wood and mold, the condo resembled nothing more than some primeval cave. The walls were blackened as though from years of cooking fires. Glass crunched underfoot as he poked at this and that with one of his crutches while holding both the other and Manfred's hand.
    The boy made an exaggerated show of holding his nose. "It stinks, Vati."
    "Daddy," Lang corrected gently. "In America, I'm your daddy."
    He had only about three years to make sure the boy spoke perfect English before he started school.
    And it would be the city's best private school His son was bright and Lang had influence. He would also attend the best of colleges, maybe Harvard. No, someplace more interested in education than politics. Maybe something somewhere in the South. Vanderbilt or Duke, perhaps. Then law school and a partnership with Lang. Or maybe a year or two with one of the mammoth law factories where he'd learn a little humility as well as how to crank out twenty-five billable hours a day. Then ...
    If Gurt would stay that long.
    Bobby Burns's comments on the plans of mice and men came to mind.
    The boy's face had clouded with the gentle reprimand.
    "You're right, though, it doesn't smell so good." Lang agreed with a grin.
    Lang was regarding what had been a secretary, a rare remainder from the Charleston workshop of Thomas Elfe, one of pre-Revolutionary America's finest cabinetmakers. It was one of the two or three items he had not sold after Dawn's death. It had housed his collection of antique books and a small group of antiquities. He and Dawn had found it in one of the shops along Queen Street, paid far too much for it and given it a prominent place in the small house he had also sold. Now it was all just so much ash.
    He sighed.
    Stuff, Francis had said, just stuff, objects that, after all, we only rent during the course of our lives.
    Lang had at least pretended to be comforted.
    But he wasn't.
    Even though he would have gleefully swapped a dozen condominiums at Park Place to learn he had a son, an heir, whoever had done this was going to regret they hadn't killed him.
    "Vat... Daddy, why did the bad people burn your house?"
    A good question. Lang steered his small companion toward what had been the bedroom. "I don't know. Maybe because they were just that, bad people."
    Manfred took in the destruction in the bedroom. "Shit!"
    Lang's eyes widened. One of the things he had learned quickly: small children cannot remember to say "thank you" or "please" but