During the months since that interview, Cliff had wrestled with himself over what to do. He knew his father was involved in Worldwide Communications Consultants, living in the Washington area. He thought of writing him, or even calling, but always in the back of his mind was the question: why hadn't he come to me? In all those years, he had been totally unaware that his father was alive. But Burke Hill must have known where his son was. Yet he never contacted him. Had his mother made Hill promise never to approach him?
Cliff was dismayed when he learned about the intercepted phone call to Dr. Kim Vickers that morning. On hearing the name, he thought at first it must be some other Burke Hill. Then he listened to the tape, heard the caller identify himself and knew without doubt it was his father. Talking about computer hackers. It all sounded terribly incriminating, though he still held out the hope it would prove nothing more than a bizarre coincidence. But when Burke Hill had ducked into the darkened alley, the only thing he could conceive of was a clandestine meeting. He had entered cautiously, drawing his weapon. Now the roof had fallen in, almost literally.
Pulling back as though he had encountered a ghost, his face contorted in anguish, Burke could manage little more than a whisper. "Cliff? My Cliff?" He reached down to help the stunned young man into a sitting position. Oh, God, he thought, I've nearly killed my own son. "Are you all right?"
Cliff reached his hands around as if to test his back. "I think so. But I took a pretty nasty fall."
Burke searched around in the darkness and saw a glint of light from a metal surface. He reached down, picked up the gun by the barrel and handed it to his son. "Agent Clifford Walters," he said slowly, shaking his head. "Would you have used this on me?"
Cliff didn't hesitate. "No, sir. I don't think so. But I didn't know who you might be meeting in here."
"Meeting? You thought I was meeting someone? Why were you tailing me?"
Cliff ignored the question but shoved the pistol back into its holster and reached down to push himself shakily to his feet.
"I know you're not going to believe this," Burke said, "but I started trying to locate you back in October, just before I had to leave for Korea."
"You've been in Korea?"
"Yes. My company just opened an office in Seoul." He watched with a disturbed frown as his son brushed the dust from his coat. "Let me get my attaché case, and we'll go somewhere we can talk. Okay?"
Burke stepped into the darkened opening to retrieve the case.
"Where were you headed before you came in here?" Cliff asked.
"I started out looking for a cab. I was going to find a motel out near the airport. I'm leaving for Washington early in the morning."
"My car's in a garage a couple of blocks from here. I can take you out toward the airport." He reached down to rub where he felt a pain in his side.
"You sure you're all right, Cliff? Damn! I hate I did that to you."
Cliff started walking toward the street, "I'll probably be sore in the morning, but I don't think anything's broken. The way I came in here, I deserved what I got."
Burke realized his son was suffering more from humiliation than anything. Walking into an ambush by a white-headed old codger twice his age. He tried to soften the blow. "Situations like that are tough. The defender always has the upper hand. I've done worse things. It's a wonder I didn't break my own fool neck." He glanced over at Cliff as they stepped out onto the sidwalk. Back in the glow of the street lamps, he could see the handsome young man that his son had become. It gave him a distressing feeling of pride. Distressing because he sensed the uneasiness that gripped Cliff in his presence.
"I meant it, about trying to track you down recently," he said, hanging his head in remorse. "I called Sumter and finally learned from Mr. Cooley that Peg had moved to Jackson, Tennessee a few years ago."
"She died last year," Cliff said.
His voice had a chill to it that made Burke shudder. "I'm sorry to hear that. Really, Cliff. We parted friends, and even though I never talked to her again, I remembered her fondly over the years."
Cliff abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Passersby gave only brief, curious glances, while the noisy early evening traffic rumbled disinterestly beyond the curb. San Franciscans tended to ignore unorthodox behavior.
"I know why you had her change our names," Cliff said, a catch in his voice. "And I can understand your lack of contact with mother, but in all those years, why did you never come to see me? Or write, or call? I never even knew you existed until she died." Tears were welling in his eyes.
Burke turned his head away, blinking rapidly. Then he looked his son in the eye. "I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to. But I knew she had told you your father was dead. After a few years, I realized I'd waited so long that it became a big risk. A risk that you might reject me out of hand." He shook his head, feeling like the world's biggest heel. "I couldn't stand that."
Cliff suddenly threw his arms around Burke and buried his face against his father's shoulder, sobbing softly. Burke held him, blinking back the tears. He thought of Lori and Grandmother Szabo. Now he knew what had compelled her to press the search in Budapest. He knew that no matter how difficult it might be, you could go home again.
Chapter 54
As the crazy-quilt radiance of San Francisco at night flashed by with the transience of a child's sparkler, father and son became newly acquainted.
"After Mr. Rundleman told me about your involvement in saving the President's life in Toronto, I went back and read the newspaper stories and looked at the pictures of you and that lady in the Rose Garden," Cliff said with admiration.
"That lady is now Mrs. Lorelei Hill," Burke said with a grin. "And as of last Thursday, she's the mother of your half-brother and half-sister."
"Really, twins?"
"You'll have to come see 'em. I rushed back from Seoul just in time for their delivery."
Since leaving the garage, they had been talking about their own lives and about Peg, unconsciously skirting any mention of the day's as yet unexplained unfolding. But at Burke's mention of Seoul, Cliff looked around somberly.
"Why did you go to see Dr. Kim Vickers?" His tone signaled that the conversation had taken a serious turn.
"You came out of the bookstore," Burke said as if lost in thought. "How did you know I had been to see Dr. Vickers?"
"You called him this morning and said you would be there at four-thirty. I saw you get out of the taxi and take the elevator to the fifth floor."
"What did I say on the phone that connected me with whatever you're investigating?"
Cliff smiled. "If I told you that, I'd be revealing the essence of the investigation. You know I can't do that."
"Quite to the contrary, son. If you want me to help you, you'll have to give me a little more to go on." They were approaching a decent looking motel at the cutoff to the airport. "Why don't we try that one," he said, pointing.
The radio in Cliff's car suddenly crackled with his call sign.
"They're wondering what happened to you," Burke said, raising aneyebrow. "What will you tell them?"