Murray Hill || A Superhuman Tale - 1

Chapter Seventy

Somehow, he managed to make that observation without gasping or cursing aloud. He looked around the room. To his continued astonishment, two other people in the room, a man and a woman, the latter of whom he'd not before noticed, were also Gifted.

All three had that tall and strong look, and from their apparent youth and their locations in the room, they were there to provide security. You should stick to selling ice cream, he admonished himself further.

Yet, the observation hadn't changed why he was there, to get closer to Meeker. He calmed himself and continued chatting courteously with his new acquaintances, until he could politely disengage.

Mindy almost immediately had left him to her father and now sat on the arm of a rich tufted couch not far from her husband, affecting the role of the dutiful wife. Meeker, louder and already even further into his cups, now was engaged in a long and lurid story about a trip he'd made to a brothel—not too far in the recent past, it seemed—and made several slighting comparisons that anyone not drunk or stupid would know were references to his wife. The muckety-muck laughed politely, but looking around the room, Tommy saw a variety of reactions.

Most of the U.S. military officers he'd known throughout the years were the kind of decent, upright souls anyone would want to guard their homes and to protect their loved ones. As rough and uncouth as most were when alone among the troops, the overwhelming majority were absolute gentlemen in public. That truism showed now.

Some of those assembled laughed or joked along with Meeker in his garish tale. The majority looked on in disgust or quietly began to find reasons to leave the room.

Mindy continued to watch her husband with a look of what? Anger? Hatred? No, it isn't that, he thought. It wasn't even contempt or loathing. It was just plain, old-fashioned unhappiness—deep and abiding unhappiness. Tommy knew Mindy Morse-Meeker was involved in some way with the horror that was taking place around them. He wasn't sure how deeply involved, but she was involved. But at that moment, his heart went out to her with genuine sympathy.

As Tommy pondered the sad spectacle before him, a smiling Ulysses came up beside him. Words then slipped from Tommy's lips, without his thinking, words he instantly regretted uttering.

"How could you let your lovely daughter marry such a human stain?"

From the sudden cloud on Morse's face, it appeared at first that the older-looking man would reply angrily, or even violently. Then his expression softened.

"I taught my daughter to be independent," he said in a husky voice. There was a sincerity in those words that couldn't be fabricated. "She's her own woman and makes her own decisions. And we Morses are Catholics. We live with our mistakes. Besides, Alain's a good earner. He really knows how to run a business—far better than I ever could."

It struck like a bolt. Ulysses was the man behind Valhalla. Shit.

The two watched the circus for a few minutes more in silence. He might be a wolf in the boardroom, but Meeker was the very epitome of an uncouth jackass elsewhere.

Tommy made a decision. He could never fault the precocious little Celia for being wary of him. But the youngster had looked into Sam Babington's mind and loved him. That was all Tommy needed to know about the girl. And there was no way Tommy would ever let that child within 50 feet of the piece of human tripe who drunkenly jabbered before him now, and he certainly would never allow her to wade around in the refuse of his mind.

When Tommy left the clubhouse, he had every intention of taking Meeker with him, and the man would tell everything he knew.

Less than five minutes later, Meeker announced to all assembled he had to "drain the vein" and departed with several others in tow—the man never seemed to be alone. Tommy turned to Morse, who'd stood silent for several minutes.