Page 82 of Samson

“Nothing. I came by to see how you are. You have time for a coffee?”

“Something’s wrong.”

“It’s not. I wanted to see you.”

“Then I guess you should come in.”

Samson followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled two mugs out of the cupboard.

“All I’ve got is filter,” Arthur said. “I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine.”

“Drop of milk?”

“Yup.”

Samson took the cup offered to him and sat down at a small kitchen table. A Bible was laid open with a notepad beside it, which his dad quickly closed to hide whatever he’d been scribbling there.

“How’ve you been?” Samson said after a sip.

“Fine. And you?”

“Good.”

“That’s good. How’s work?”

“Slow. There’s a man connected with the Turkish embassy who’s playing hard to get.”

“The Turkish embassy?” Arthur straightened.

“Don’t get too excited.”

“Who said I was.”

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You’re telling me there’s no connection?”

“That was ten years ago.”

“So there could be?”

“Dad, stop. I didn’t come here to get your hopes up about me finally fulfilling my destiny.”

“Then what’s at the Turkish Embassy?”

“I’ve already told you as much as I can. I just wanted you to know that I’m still working to put the bad guys behind bars.”

Arthur pushed his cup aside. “Why are you really here?”

“You’re not happy to hear about the people I’m helping?”

“You know I’m always proud of the work you do. I only wish your life would reflect the gift that’s on you. Besides which, you have a big smile on your face. An unusual occurrence.”

“I smile plenty.”

“Not in my presence, you don’t.”

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