Hidden Motive - A Hamilton Kane Mystery

Chapter 12

"Don't let Ginevra's manners rattle you. What she lacks in social graces, she makes up for in efficiency," my father's stern voice filled the room as he came to stand beside me. I was caught off guard that I fell off the chair.

He leaned down offering me his hand which I immediately slapped away.

I felt more than saw the ripple effect that one slap had on Ginevra as she was suddenly crouching in front of me pressing a short-blade to my throat.

Shit. I'm dead.

"Harm even a hair on her, Ragazzetta, and I will show you no mercy," my father's icy tone snapped me out of my trance-like state as I slowly fumbled away from Ginevra.

"Perdonami," she replied with her head slightly bow to him before returning the short-blade back into its sheath at the small of her back.

"Leave us," he commanded her and I saw Ginevra gulped at the tone he used.

Once we were alone, my father cleared his throat and sat at Ginevra's desk.

"What's going on, Father? Why are you here? What is this place? Who is the King that Death is after? How is all this related to me?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"All in due time, Hamilton. For now, we need to neutralize the threat on you," he replied nonchalantly turning to the computer screen and began typing something in.

"Why is there a threat on me?" I asked, still confused about all that is happening.

"Because you are my daughter," my father answered.

"Yes, I know I'm your daughter but why am I being targeted? They told me that Death is seeking the King. I'm not a King of anything. I'm just a detective," I replied him, my thoughts all in a jumble when I suddenly caught the look my father was giving me and everything immediately clicked into place.

"YOU'RE THE KING?!" I could not stop myself from yelling it out once I realized it.

My father merely went back to typing as I plop myself back into the chair I had sat in before.

"So...But...What are you the King of?" I asked when I finally got a hold of myself and gulped down the tea that Ginevra had made for me.

"Of the world underneath yours," he replied without missing a beat and continued typing.

The world underneath mine? What does that even mean? Does he mean the underworld? My father? King of the underworld? Wait. That can't be right. My father is a hotel mogul. He's already so busy. How can he be the King of the underworld on top of all that?

As if he could read my thoughts, with a huge sigh, he leaned back from the computer and fixed his steely gaze on me. "To the outside world, I am a hotel mogul. However, I also run the criminal underworld. By name, it is being run by one of my many subordinates and few know me to be its actual head. It seems Death has discovered this and has set his eyes on me as his next target," he replied calmly as my jaws dropped to the floor.

"Wait. How did this happen? Does Mother know? How did I not..." I asked, trying to understand how I did not see any signs when he cut me off coldly.

"Your mother has nothing to do with this," the look he gave me had that finality in it that made you feel that you're at the edge of a cliff and one wrong move will send you over the edge. I felt the sweat rolling down my back despite the room being air-conditioned.

"And...Harold?" I asked as my voice quivered.

"He has served this family well and will continue to do so in every capacity I ask of him," he answered me.

Vague as always. At least now I know, in a way, why he is the way he is now.

My father then stood up and walked to the door signalling me to follow.

"Where are we going?" I asked hesitantly.

"To the manor. To recuperate. We have much to do tomorrow," he answered as he stepped out and was greeted by the waiting Ginevra reverently. He placed his hand on her shoulder and whispered something to her before walking on.

"What's going on tomorrow?" I asked as Ginevra flashed me a look of seething hatred. The look sent a chill down my spine and froze me in place for a moment.

"We greet Death with open arms," he called over his shoulder.

___________________________________________________________________________

The next day, before the sun even rose, I found myself sitting at the back of the limo with my father as silence filled the space within it.

There was no mention of Death and the King the moment we entered my father's manor. It was as if the world outside was nothing more than an alternate universe that my father wished to keep away from my mother.

She greeted me as always though she looked to be even more tired and thinner than the last time I saw her. Despite all my father has done, mother's health seemed to be withering away from some unknown illness so we usually kept our peace in her presence and tried to behave like a normal family during these gatherings.

"Where are we going, Father?" I asked as I pulled myself out of the memory of last night's dinner and my mother's warmth when she embraced me good night.

"To the airfield. Leopold will take us somewhere safe," replied my father.

"Ok. So, we're going to fly somewhere safe. But where exactly is that, Father?" I asked as the anxiety that filled me was starting to feel like it was choking me.

"In due time, Hamilton," came the reply.

God, I hate his In-due-time-Hamiltons so much I could scream.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at a cargo airfield where a small private jet was waiting for us. Big burly men were running about loading it as the limo came to a stop. As we alighted, everyone quietly rushed off as a large stone-wall of a man came to greet us.

He came to attention and lowered his gaze as he spoke, "All is ready for you, Sir. We've notified the colosseum of your arrival."

"Thank you, Leopold. Take us away," commanded my father as we boarded and were in the air soon after.

As I settled into plush leather seats and was served champagned by a stewardess, I turned to my father and asked what has been hounding me since I heard its mention, "Ok, the pilot told us the colosseum was ready. Where is that? Like some place in Rome or something or a place with a colosseum?"

"Yes," he answered very simply as he was scrolling through something on laptop that the stewardess had handed him with our beverages.

"Yes, as in we're going to Rome or we're going to some place with a colosseum?" I asked again, hearing the exasperation in my own voice.

"We are going to a colosseum in Rome," he answered.

"We are?! But why must we go all the way there to meet Death when he is obviously already hunting me back in home?" I asked, unable to make heads or tails out of my father's brief answers.

My father looked up at me then finally closed the laptop. He turned and fixed me with his sturdy look before answering, "Because Death is not a person. Death is the name of a small assembly of men and women trained in the art of assassination. Their sole purpose from birth is to take lives. And if we want to save yours, then we must speak with their master and bargain for your life."

Holy. Shit. This shit is real? A league of assassins? Seriously? What the hell has been going on underneath my nose? What has my father been up to? Do I even know the man my father is after all these years? God, what's going to happen in Rome? I hope this won't be my last trip because I really do need a holiday after this.