The Hand of Mercy (A Porter Brown Journey) Read Online Free

puking out information.  “Really Mr. Peréz, I have never killed anyone,” Porter said earnestly.  “I don’t really know what came over me.  I just saw those guys go into that trailer where your daughter was and I had to stop them.”  Porter collected his thoughts and then sighed, “I never intended to kill them.” 
    “I am grateful that you did .  Although I would have preferred to talk to them here and show them how a father reacts to his daughter’s molesters,” Mario said, as he paused to consider that discussion. “But dead is good.  And Renata says you have brought them with you.”
    “ Yes, sir,” answered Porter.
    “ May I see them?” 
    “Sure ,” came Porter’s quick response as he opened the door to get out.  “I have them in the trunk.”
    “Please,” said Mario with a hand m otion telling Porter to wait, “Let my men take your car up to the house.  I will view them away from my wife and daughters.”  Mario placed a reassuring hand on Porter’s shoulder and said, “You may ride with my family up to the house.” 
    Displaying a wide smile and turning with arms outstretched to collect all the beauty the worl d had to offer, the Don said, “You must join us to celebrate Renata’s return.” 
    Porter’s face display ed his earnest appreciation, but he countered, “Thank you for the invitation sir, but I should probably just let you and your family have your time with Renata.  I certainly don’t want to impose.”
    With a slightly offended huff, Mario questioned, “Impose?  Mr. Brown, without you there is no reunion.  You will be ,” Mario emphasized, “The guest of honor at our celebration tomorrow.  We will have a fiesta bigger than when the Hijo Perdido came home to his father.” 
    Porter translated Lost Son in his head and then replied, “Oh, the Prodigal Son.”  Thinking it unwise to refuse the Don's hospitality again, Porter replied, “Thank you sir.  I will be happy to join the celebration.”
    *****
    The following night seemed to Porter as though all of Mazatlan had come to Don Mario’s estate for the celebration.  Priests, paupers, and all manner of those hoping to ingratiate themselves to the Peréz family were present.  A party this grand, with such short notice, could only be accomplished by one with considerable power and enormous wealth, thus removing any lingering doubts Porter had about Mario’s profession. 
    Porter excused himself to no one and walked a few hundred yards to the edge of the front lawn to observe the valley below and the thousands of acres that comprised the Peréz estate.  After ten minutes of breathing in the grandeur, Porter turned to rejoin the party and came face to face with Mario.
    "Do you enjoy the solitude of nature?" asked Mario.
    "Very much," answered Porter.  "Too much concrete and steel isn't good for me."
    "Me either ," said Mario.  "And yet you have chosen to live in the heart of Chicago.  Doesn't all that city noise bother you?"
    Shocked that Mario knew he about his home town, Porter searched his deeply lined face for what he was trying to communicate.  "It does," said Porter hesitantly.  "But how..."
    "How did I know you were from Chicago?" he asked triumphantly.
    " Yeah," Porter answered quickly, hoping for a reassuring response.
    "T he men who took Renata are monstrously evil and I had to insure that your returning her was not a trap.  So, I had my associates search to see who this Porter Brown is.  But you are quite a short read.”
    "Am I?" asked Porter, his face displaying a proud smile.
    "Yes, quite .  My men were able to determine your occupation as a commodity trader, that you maintain a penthouse residence on Michigan Avenue, you are not a registered voter, and that you only have a high school diploma."
    "That's me," Porter said, still smiling.
    "None of that helps remove my suspicion that you are an informant of some kind," said Mario sternly.  "Those without even as much as a speeding