Page 63 of Home Free

“Well yes, of course, but that wasn’t about greed,” he said. “That was about the history of man, about understanding our origins. An important task for anyone who appreciates life, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Finn said. “History is by definition the past. You can’t honor the past by murdering flesh and blood people living in the present.”

Achilles rose to his feet with effort and reached for a cane Finn hadn’t noticed propped against the chair. “That’s where I must disagree.” He walked slowly to one of the shelves and picked up a human skull. “This skull is over two thousand years old, and yet, because it was found, because it was saved, this human being is remembered. In that way, we will all be remembered.”

“Is that what this is about?” Finn asked. “Being remembered?”

Glass crashed from the first floor, followed by the sound of gunfire.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ronan said in his ear. “We’re just letting these guys have a little fun.”

“Yeah, but we can’t hold them off much longer,” Dec added. “You should probably finish the job before they get up there and do it for you. They’re out for blood.”

Achilles, unaware of the conversation playing out on the comms system and seemingly unperturbed by the sounds of destruction coming from the first floor, continued.

“I won’t deny that legacy is something that matters to me. I have no heirs, no one to carry on my work, but I will leave behind something for all of humanity. You can make me out to be a villain all you like, but that is an irrefutable fact.”

“You’re not a villain. You’re a monster,” Finn said. “A psychopath.”

“You’re the one standing in my home with a gun.” Achilles said, his voice hard and flat. “Proof that we’re all monsters when you get right down to it."

Images flashed through Finn’s mind.

The man who’d been in the armored truck in New York, his blood staining the snowy ground.

Eudorus immobile on the floor of the garage, chains wrapped around his hands and feet.

Petro’s face on the computer, his eyes hollowed out by loss.

And then Elise, her face relaxed in sleep, eyelashes casting shadows on her soft cheeks, her body warm — alive — in his arms.

Glass shattered on the second floor, closer now. They were coming for Achilles.

Finn lowered his weapon.

“I don’t believe that. But feel free to contemplate it in your final moments.”

He turned to leave and heard the volume of the music increase as he reached the door. When he stepped out into the hall, he was face-to-face with five large, bearded men dressed in black and carrying an assortment of automatic weapons.

One of the men looked at the gun in Finn’s hand, then raised his weapon at Finn’s chest.

Finn raised his hands on a gesture of surrender, then carefully set his gun on the floor.

He nodded at the open door behind him, the music reaching a crescendo. “He’s all yours.”

He was halfway down the back stairs when shots rang out from the second floor.

36

Finn looked down at Ronan’s scowling face and sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“How hard is it to get black coffee right?” Ronan asked.

Finn handed Julia the tea she’d ordered and looked at Ronan. “It’s not my fault Kate’s delivering in this bougie-ass hospital. They have a barista. He must have mixed up our order. Do you want me to take it?”

“It’s fine,” Ronan sighed.

Finn carried the cardboard cup holder to Elise, sitting on one of the waiting room’s plastic chairs next to Kate’s sister Beth. On Beth’s other side, Griffin sat next to Finn’s father, who held hands with Phyllis, her new engagement ring sparkling on her left hand.

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