BANE
Part 12
By Jo
Somehow Luka made it back from the park; it
took all his concentration to climb the few steps into the
apartment lobby without falling. He cursed himself for
"losing" his cane; he could have used it today for
sure. He had forced himself to keep going until he got to his
kitchen, knowing if he stopped at the couch to rest he'd fall
asleep. Now he sat at the kitchen table waiting for the microwave
to finish cooking his dinner, thinking of Radic and Mecheal and
Karel and Stephan, their images spinning and dancing in his mind,
morphing together, their voices mixing, echoing through his
brain. There was just so much, so much, Luka thought- Radic's
veiled threats, Mecheal's bitterness, Karel's mocking, Stephan
waving good-bye...
Poor Stephan- Luka's mind lingered on the boy, so innocent- yet
caught in the middle of everything, danger swirling around him.
Certainly Mecheal loved her boy, but surely she could see that he
was Karel's son, surely she could see Karel's face, Karel's eyes,
Karel's smile, reflected on her child. Or maybe she didn't, Luka
thought. Maybe she had to deny the truth in order to keep going,
in order to keep loving her son- she had to tell herself that
Stephan was Ljutomisl's son, that she and her husband had had a
miracle child- to admit that Stephan was a child of rape would be
too horrible. Luka rubbed his forehead, then his hand went to his
side- how hard it must be for her; now he knew why Mecheal had
built a fortress around herself, why she could make herself so
hard- it was the only way to protect herself from the truth. No
wonder she was so bitter.
But that bitterness was a poison, Luka realized. What had she
wanted him to do to Radic? Kill him right there in the park, in
front of all the children, in front of her child? Luka had meant
it when he had told Mecheal he could never harm Radic- Luka had
seen enough killing, enough death, enough blood. It was time for
it to stop; Luka had to put a stop to it. For some reason he
believed that Radic would leave him alone; as long as Luka said
nothing, did nothing to jeopardize Radic's lifestyle he would be
safe. Luka felt it was time to let go, time to try to get on with
his life, time to try and live in peace, time to forget the past.
He would never forget his family, of course- they would always
live in his heart, always be with him- but it was time to forget
the hate, time to forget the horror. He built his boxes stronger,
sealed the lids tighter, and pushed Karel and Radic farther away,
trying to bury them deeper in his unconsciousness, hoping the
memories would leave him alone.
But that night Luka's dreams where filled with Mecheal and
Stephan, with Karel and Stephan-with Karel laughing about his
son, laughing at Mecheal, laughing at Luka.
"You can never escape me," Karel sneered.
"Mecheal's hatred of me will poison Stephan, will help him
turn out just like me! He'll grow up to make his dad proud!"
Then Karel laughed, the sound echoing and echoing through Luka's
head, ruining his sleep, ruining his peace. Luka lay awake in the
dark, staring at the ceiling, thinking of Stephan, innocent,
endangered- knowing there was nothing he could do to help the
boy.
Somehow Luka had managed to fall back to sleep; now the sun was
up, trying to make it's way through the blinds. Luka made his way
haltingly to the shower; wondering when he'd ever be able to walk
without thinking, without pain. One day, Luka reminded himself,
this will be just another bad memory, just another box stored
unopened, forgotten; all his time in Chicago would be a bad dream
he could chase away with the coming of the dawn... The phone rang
as Luka got dressed, but he didn't bother to answer it. He wasn't
sure if he wanted to talk to anyone this morning; it was time to
start shutting people out again, time to start getting ready to
move on, and the fewer ties, the less contact he had with anyone,
the better. But Mecheal's voice sounded from the answering
machine with its now-familiar hard edge.
"Luka, I found where Radic is staying in Chicago." The
words made Luka freeze a moment, then he quickly grabbed the
phone- he didn't trust Mecheal, was afraid of what she might
do...
"Mecheal," he said anxiously, "what are
you..."
"Shut up," Mecheal snapped angrily. "You can't get
the job done, so I have to take care of things. I'm doing you a
favor by letting you know what I'm doing. I suggest you stay far
away from the Ritz Carlton. Maybe even find someone to be with so
you can have an alibi- we don't want poor Janko to be accused of
something he wouldn't dare do." Mecheal's voice dripped
sarcasm; she sounded uncomfortably like Karel, like the man she
hated most; Luka felt like he would be sick.
"Mecheal, " he pleaded, "Listen to me- please,
just listen!" She said nothing, but he could tell she was
still there- maybe he had a chance to talk her out of doing
anything.
"Mecheal," he went on, "Think about what you're
doing. I know how it feels to kill someone, how it can destroy
you, destroy your life. The guilt follows you forever. I know; I
lived with it for five years, will always live with it..."
"But the man you killed was innocent," Mecheal reminded
him cruelly. "Radic is guilty- GUILTY!"
"I thought- no, I *knew* the man I killed was guilty, too,
" Luka said softly, the pain coming again. "Until Karel
told me otherwise. It just doesn't matter- the shame follows you
everywhere, it eats at you, it tortures you..."
"Ha!" Mecheal scoffed, "Maybe it eats at you
because your God tells you what you did was wrong. But Karel
deserved to die, and so does Radic. I won't feel any guilt about
killing someone who deserves to die."
"But what about Stephan?" Luka insisted, his head
spinning. "What will happen to your boy, Ljutomisl's
boy?"
"His boy?" She answered with disdain, "You mean
Karel's boy." So she did know, Luka thought. "He'd be
better off with out me. My whole life is a lie, just like yours,
Janko. We can't hide from who we are, from what we are, from what
they did to us, Janko. I can't sit back and let that dog live,
after all he's done. It doesn't matter what happens to me, as
long as Radic dies. And Stephan- he'd be better off with someone
who doesn't know his past, doesn't know his father. It would be
better for him." Mecheal was crying, Luka could hear her
tears through her anger, through her hate. He felt so helpless;
if only she were here, he thought, maybe I could help her, maybe
talk some sense into her. Or at least lock her away until Radic
was safely out of Chicago.
"Mecheal, come see me, please," Luka begged. "I
can help you. You don't need to do this. Please come here first,
okay? Please." But she just laughed at him.
"No, Luka- you can't stop me. I'm going there. That's
all." Luka tried to say more, but the phone had gone dead,
Mecheal had hung up. Desperately he dialed her number, but she
didn't answer; Luka was afraid that that she was already at the
hotel, already on the elevator heading to Radic's room. He found
the phone book and called the Ritz Carlton; the desk clerk put
him right through to Radic's room.
"Gregor." Luka was relieved to hear his enemy's voice.
"It's Luka, Luka Kovac."
"Dr. Kovac, " Radic said warily. "What do you
want? And it better be good."
"There's a woman on her way to see you, Radic..."
"You're little girlfriend? I know- she called before. What
does she want, Dr. Kovac?" Radic asked suspiciously.
"She thinks she knows you from Croatia," Luka told him.
He knew he had to be careful; he didn't want to endanger Mecheal,
but he had to warn Radic; Luka's head started pounding again.
"I think you're in danger, Radic."
"I'm not afraid of any mere woman, Dr. Kovac" Radic
said smugly. "Besides, I have nothing to hide, nothing to
worry about."
"I don't trust her," Luka went on urgently. "She's
not- not thinking clearly. If you tell me your room number, I'll
come over and get her- then we can forget this whole thing."
Radic was silent for a minute.
"You know, Dr. Kovac, this is all very strange. Perhaps I
should see you both. Come up to room 1214, and we'll talk. Just
be aware that my-'associates' will know about this little
meeting, too. So don't even think of trying anything
stupid." Radic sounded dangerous, like a cobra ready to
strike.
"Okay, I'll be right over," Luka promised. "Just
be careful with her."
"Don't worry about me, Luka. I can take care of
myself," Radic answered.
Luka hurriedly called for a cab; he didn't trust himself to drive
yet, and he wasn't quite sure how to get to the Ritz Carlton. He
toyed with the idea of calling the police; Mecheal was a danger,
he knew. But he also knew that if the police arrested her, his
whole story would come out, his whole past would be revealed.
Hopefully she wouldn't be able to go through with it; it's one
thing to plan a murder, another to actually face the person and
kill him.
Luka made it to the hotel within fifteen minutes hoping that he'd
gotten there before Mecheal. He knocked his fist against the wall
of the elevator; nervously waiting for the twelfth floor, glad
there was no one else in the car- they would have thought he was
crazy. Thankfully room 1214 wasn't very far down the hall; Luka's
leg and side were throbbing again, the stress, physical and
mental, was wearing on him. He pounded on Radic's door, afraid of
what he might find; but Gregor opened it casually.
"Welcome, Dr. Kovac, I've been expecting you," Radic
said smoothly. Luka scanned the room, looking for Radic's
'associates', but the only other person there was Mecheal; she
greeted him with an angry glare from the far side of the room.
Luka walked slowly towards her, jumping a bit when Radic closed
the door.
"This young lady has been telling me quite a story, Dr.
Kovac, " Radic said steadily, "She's been accusing me
of quite a lot." His eyes narrowed as Luka looked at him.
"Perhaps you know her tale?" Luka shivered despite the
warm breeze blowing in from the balcony; he felt sick, he wished
he could be anywhere but here.
"She made me aware of it yesterday," Luka answered
quietly. He was inching closer to Mecheal; she didn't seem to
notice; her eyes followed Radic as he walked over to the bar, her
features were frozen by the anger she felt, the hate glinted in
her eyes. "I wasn't sure what to make of what she told
me." Luka added weakly.
"Well, it certainly sounds like something our dear Karel
might do," Radic said easily, "But you know, Luka, that
I was nothing more than an arms dealer. I- stayed away from
things like that. Too- messy, too complicated." Radic turned
his back to fix himself a vodka and orange juice.
"You bastard!" Mecheal hissed. "You were there!
You know it!" Luka was trying to get near her, but a couch
blocked him, he carefully made his way around it; he could feel
the tension emanating from Mecheal.
"Now, now, Miss Mecheal," Radic said condescendingly,
and then everything started happening too quickly. Luka say
something shiny in Mecheal's hand; he lunged forward awkwardly
and managed to grab her wrist, sending a gun skittering across
the floor. Despite her small size, Mecheal was strong; her fury,
her determination to kill Radic, made her stronger still. She was
cursing Luka, hitting him with her free hand, trying to pull
away. Luka tried to hold on against her twisting, tried to grab
her with his other hand, but he was still so weak; his leg
buckled and the two stumbled forward onto the balcony. Suddenly
one of Mecheal's blows found the still- healing wound on his
side; Luka was blinding by a searing white pain. He could feel
Mecheal pull away as he dropped to his knees gasping for breath;
he had let go so fast she hadn't expected it, she was falling
away from him, he dimly heard her cry out through the haze of
pain. He tried to focus his eyes, and he realized that she had
gone over the rail, that she was falling, falling, and there was
nothing he could do to save her. Luka collapsed on the balcony,
not daring to think about it, the pain from his side shooting
through his body, wishing he were dead...