Chapter Text
Prologue
Colonel Sebastian Moran was finally happy.
After working in the army for over a decade and rising to a well-deserved position owing to his superior sniper and organizing skills, he had finally decided to return to civilian life and fulfil his other dream (besides being a military commander). He was now a published author and the chief of quality and compliance for a leading firm that manufactured firearms, both for the army as well as for civilians. He was thirty five, handsome, coveted highly by men and women, and had the money to lead a respectable life as well as to indulge in some extravagances.
It hadn’t come easy to him. Not at all. He was born to a single mother, his father having died while he was still in his infancy, and raised with limited cash. Though he had studied at an expensive private school, he had been reminded every day about how he was the poorest kid there. His mother had to work two jobs to keep him there. But his talent, intelligence and perseverance had won and after getting his degree from Cambridge, he had enlisted with Her Majesty’s Services and won many honours and medals in the battlefield. The poorly and obscure teen with dreams in his bright blue eyes was now the man of the moment, a rugged and debonair six feet four inch mini-giant, with blond hair and a ripped body that was a network of pure muscle.
His only regret was that his mum, who had developed a heart disease early on in life, hadn’t lived long enough to see him excel. She had died nearly eight years ago.
“So Seb,” his best buddy, a journalist named Thomas Bright, said one day as they sat drinking at a pub following a hard day’s work, “Family, kids, settle down?”
“It doesn’t have to follow in chronological order,” Sebastian grinned, “I might settle down without a wife and kids, maybe with a man.”
“Okay, as a straight man I didn’t consider that, sorry. But have you found such a man?”
“Not yet and I am in no great rush either.”
“You hardly have a home life Seb. As a friend I worry sometimes, I mean it’s no fun going home to a nice apartment but have nobody waiting for you there. What about Zac?”
Zachary Ross was an American man in his late thirties. He worked in the publishing business and he and Sebastian had become quite close in the two years Seb had left the army and started his civilian life. Zac was the man who had helped the former sniper negotiate the six-book deal with his company. Two of those books had already been published with reasonable success and Seb had even flown to Chicago to meet Zac’s family over Christmas.
“I am still….kind of…..” Seb said with a sheepish grin, tilting the flat of his hand to the right and left, as if trying to show he was swinging between decisions.
“I get that….take your time,” Tom said, then he clutched at Sebastian’s hand and added, “I think someone is trying to get your attention buddy. Over there, by the doorway.”
Sebastian turned his head and saw a nondescript man standing there, looking terribly out of place in a hip place like this. He was clad in a suit and tie and holding an expensive leather attaché case in his right hand and two cell phones on the left. The moment their eyes met, the man smiled an uneasy smile and stepped forward, narrowly avoiding a barmaid carrying at least six huge mugs of beer, and stuck his hand out to shake Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian shook the proffered hand but said nothing, assuming this was either one of his ‘fans’ who read his books or maybe a business associate he had forgotten.
“My name is Peter Keegan, I am an attorney,” he said politely, but raising his voice so as to be heard above the loud music, “Mr Sebastian Augustus Moran I presume….sorry that would be Colonel Sebastian Moran.”
“I am not too fond of military titles in civilian life,” Sebastian assured him, “Unless I am in one of the clubs frequented by serving or retired military men where rank and titles still prevail. You can call me Sebastian please.”
“How are you Sebastian?”
“Very well, and you?”
“I am fine. Um….I wanted to talk to you, in private.”
“Excuse me Mr. Keegan….”
“Peter please.”
“Yes sure. So Peter, do we know each other? If we don’t, then whatever you want to say you can say right here. This is one of my best buddies.”
“I am afraid, it’s a matter of confidentiality and privacy for my client and it’s absolutely necessary that I talk to you alone,” Peter replied in a tone that left no room for negotiations, “I am by no means doubting the integrity and friendship of this gentleman here, but as a lawyer, I am bound by my duties. Could we step out for just a few minutes please. Or actually, this might take even longer.”
A baffled Sebastian turned towards Tom who nodded and said, “I will be fine. Go on.”
“Sorry,” Sebastian slid off the barstool, “For abandoning you half way through the evening.”
But as he exited the pub with this ‘Peter’, he had no idea his life was going to change dramatically, drastically and forever.
Chapter 1
Sebastian was brought to a mansion in one of the poshest areas of London, not too far from a royal residence and the opulent mansions of billionaires, celebrities and foreign dignitaries that resided in the city. It was a sprawling property with landscaped grounds and all the trappings of wealth that one would expect in an extremely wealthy household, including the mansion itself which was rather spectacular. /There must be at least fifty bedrooms in there/, Sebastian wondered, as the luxurious Mercedes S class glided smoothly under the portico.
The interiors were all marble and Belgian glass and the best of Italian tiles and Persian rugs. The paintings on the walls and the chandeliers that hung from the roof were so breathtakingly spectacular that Sebastian had to force himself not to let his jaw drop.
The retainers, led by a well-dressed butler and a stern looking housekeeper, went about their duties quietly as if the men walking past them were invisible. Sebastian tried to make eye contact with a few but none obliged. A well-trained lot and their master was certainly no ordinary millionaire, he had to be some really powerful or important man. “Peter I am a bit confused,” he said to the lawyer as they went past the foyer, the huge sitting room, a sweeping staircase and past several hallways, “You said your client is someone who knows me. I don’t think a man who owns such a place would have ever known me. That is next to impossible.”
“Just a few more steps and my client will explain it all to you,” Peter said with a brief look at his face.
Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly, “I am armed. I don’t think playing a game with me is a wise idea.”
“If you knew whose house you were in, you wouldn’t dream of making a threatening statement Sebastian.”
“Oh well….”
“Here we are.”
The master bedroom suite they entered consisted of an anteroom, the main bedroom, a sitting area that opened out into a large balcony, a huge walk in closet and an en-suite bathroom that was no doubt the size of a mini football field. But this time Sebastian’s eyes were not on the size of the room or the décor, but on the man who sat on the bed. He was a man in his early seventies, slender and tall, about six feet, with snow white hairs and a pair of piercing dark eyes. Combined with his hawk like nose and the wrinkled skin, he reminded Sebastian of a turkey buzzard.
Looking into those eyes was vaguely unsettling.
“Peter, Jonathan, you can both leave now.”
Jonathan was a middle-aged man sitting on a chair next to the bed, holding an instrument to measure blood pressure. Sebastian understood he was this man’s private physician. The doctor and the lawyer left quietly while Sebastian stood there, unsure of what to do next.
“My name is James Moriarty Sr,” the man spoke in a harsh but low voice, “I know who you are but you don’t know me. I didn’t think you’d remember since the last time I saw you, you were only two.”
Sebastian was astounded. What would a man like this want with him and how did he even know his family? His mum had never spoken about a wealthy acquaintance such as this man. Moriarty seemed to have read his thoughts because he smiled knowingly as he wandered over to the other side of the room. There was a large bar there and the old man poured expensive Scotch into two glasses, generous amounts of it. He sauntered back and handed one to Seb before pointing to the chair recently vacated by the doctor. Sebastian said a polite ‘thank you’ and sat down, nursing the Scotch in his hands. Moriarty took another chair and a sip of his drink.
“My name is James Moriarty, as I just told you, and I happen to be the king of the underworld. People call me a criminal mastermind, which means I am part of organized crime. I have many businesses which are absolutely legitimate and all the money I show to the taxman has been earned through completely legally acceptable means. In other words, people do the dirty job for me and I only protect them from behind a wall, using my considerable powers. Hardly anyone knows me by name or the details of what I do.”
“Do you have a job for me?” Sebastian had still not taken a sip of his Scotch, “I am not someone who displays moral superiority so if there is something, I can do it for you, for a fair price. Otherwise I don’t see a point why I should know the closely guarded secrets of an obviously powerful and hugely wealthy man.”
“That’s why you must know, that I share such information only with a privileged few.”
“Well, okay, I am flattered. But why me? What’s the reason behind my privileged status?”
“There is.”
Moriarty took out a photograph from the nightstand drawer and handed it to Sebastian. The blond man’s eyes went wide, “But but….this is….this is me as a child….in your lap….with my dad next to you.”
“I am your Godfather Sebastian and your father, Henry Charles Moran, was my next in command and my best friend and bodyguard.”
Sebastian gaped at the man. He was just six months old then. A few months before his father had been killed in an accident.
“Drink your Scotch colonel,” Moriarty was grinning slightly at his baffled expression, “Right now it seems you need it.”
***
Sebastian was on his second Scotch by the time Moriarty had started his story. Initially he was too dazed to understand, but considering his remarkably steely nerves and iron will, he recovered quickly from the shock discovery of his Godfather and the story of his father’s life.
Especially the story of his father’s life.
“He and I knew each other from University,” Moriarty said as he walked around the room with his drink, his vulpine face a symbol of longstanding grit, courage and darkness, “He was a junior by two odd years but we took an instant liking towards each other. We were bosom buddies, friends in every possible sense of the term, and when he finished his education and joined the army, much like you did, I went on to shape my life in the direction I had deemed it for. I was not interested in being one of the teeming millions who walked this city’s roads and pavements, nor one of those hypocrites who ordered assassinations wearing a suit and tie and over a phone call. Everyone lives a life of crime but only a few choose to make it into a profession. I was one of those men.”
He refilled his glass, “By the time he came back into my life, just for a drink, he was a decorated officer and back in the country to meet his fiancée, your mother. I was also courting a woman and intended to marry her. When he enquired about my profession and I offered to let him work for me, he agreed far more easily than I thought he would. I had perhaps underestimated his devotion towards me. I still remember what he said to me that evening, clearly.”
“What did he say?” Sebastian was stoic. This was the first time he was hearing about his dad from someone other than his mum.
“I will always walk the ends of the earth for you. If my body could shield you from a bullet, I’d gladly do.”
Seb felt goose bumps rise to his flesh. Somehow he felt proud of his father. A man capable of so much devotion to someone he believed in, that had to be respected. For some reason he felt no aversion towards his father’s criminal past, not even one bit.
“Your mother knew nothing about his new profession,” Moriarty continued, “Just that he was changing jobs so he could give her a better life. She didn’t know for the next five years, till she was the mother of a soon to be one year old baby. That was you.”
“Oh.”
“I was your Godfather. I gave you your name. I played with you and one day, when your dad had to leave you with me, I even changed your diaper.”
“Um…..”
“Then one day, we had a surprise attack. From a formidable nemesis. We fought and killed all of them but my dear friend and partner in crime, Henry Moran, died in the exchange of gunfire. I was also near fatally wounded. But while I recovered, he lay in the morgue.”
Sebastian exhaled, “Can I pour myself some more?”
Moriarty pointed with his eyes towards the bar and the bottle of Scotch, giving his permission. “Your mother was livid when she found out and ran off with you. She couldn’t accept that the decorated war hero she loved had chosen a dark path with a dark figure like me. She was afraid I would put you at risk too and scared that you’d get to know what your old man really was. So when I traced her out and begged her to let me help financially, to look after you, she stubbornly refused. You were two then and a replica of my dear friend. It broke my heart to not bring you back home with me. I could have tried and insisted but I had deep respect for your mother’s resolve, her decision and her honour. So I stepped away, reluctantly, though I kept tabs on both of you always.”
“She died years ago sir.”
“I know. I was fortunate enough to have reached her bedside, though you weren’t able to make it there on time. There she told me she had forgiven me, her late husband and also herself, for every trespass that had occurred in our lives. But she got a promise out of me.”
“Which was?”
“That if you would ever need me, I would be there for you.”
Sebastian raised his glass to his mouth but changed his mind and put it down on the bar counter. “I don’t understand,” he said, “I don’t need you really. I mean, I appreciate you calling me over and letting me know my past, my dad’s true profession towards the end of his life and for revealing yourself as my Godfather. I believe you too, every word you said. But I sense you didn’t call me to help me, did you?”
Moriarty shook his head.
“Then why?”
“Because I need your help son.”
“My help? How?”
James Moriarty took two photographs out, this time from his wallet, and showed it to Sebastian. The younger man took them and looked at them casually, trying not to show his disinterest. But one look at that face and he was instantly captivated.
In fact, his heart skipped a beat.
Moriarty cleared his throat and said, “That is my son. Born a few years after you.”
The two photographs were that of a teenaged boy and then the same boy as an older man in his early twenties. He had the same remarkable eyes as Moriarty, deep and dark and piercing, and a similar longish forehead. But overall his face was different. It was not as long as the old man’s and his cheeks were a little round instead of the pointy high cheekbones Moriarty had. He had the most dazzling smile Seb had ever seen and his face had an abstract prettiness that was instantly appealing. As a teenager he looked more cute and innocent while as the young man he looked sexy and fetching. He was certainly aging well.
“He is James Moriarty Jr. We call him Jim.”
The old man extended his hand to take the photographs back and Sebastian found to his embarrassment that he was a little reluctant to part from them. He did hand them back eventually and decided to come straight to the point after that. “Mr. Moriarty, I appreciate this insight into the past and this introduction to your son but I am still unable to understand why I am here tonight. You said you need my help. How can I offer any help to a big man like you? I have done well for myself no doubt, I have my distinguished military career where I rose fast through the ranks, and as an author and consultant I have just made my first million and bought my first apartment. But these are insignificant as compared to where you stand. How on earth can I be of service to you?”
Moriarty looked at his son’s photographs and sighed, “Not me. I think he will need you Seb.”
“James Jr?”
“Yes.”
“But you are there for him. Besides, he is a grown man.”
“Yeah but an impetuous, hot headed, slightly bipolar young man. Brilliant but erratic. Braver than me perhaps but also crazier. He could rule the world or destroy it, he could level England for no reason and then slash his wrists for the same….no reason. I have protected him from him, for so long. But that can’t happen for much longer.”
Sebastian looked puzzled, “Why not?”
“Because I am dying.”
“What?”
“Yes. I am really dying. At seventy-three I don’t regret dying. But I do regret leaving him to his own devices. He and I never got along but at least I was someone who always had his best interests in my mind. He would yell, shout and rant at me and then disobey me too, but I’d still forgive him and have his back. But once I am gone, I am not even sure if he’d recognize those who truly love him and those who pretend to.”
The blond sniper felt sorry for the old man. Suddenly he no longer looked like a dangerous mastermind but a father worried about his unstable but brilliant son. As he had no father while growing up, he felt a strange bond develop between him and this dying man.
“Mr Moriarty,” he said softly as he knelt by the bed where the old man was sitting, “My father held you in high esteem, you worked together and were close friends, you were my Godfather and you had given me my name. While this might not mean a lot to many people, they mean a lot to me. So I think I do owe you something in return. Calling me isn’t a wasted effort. I will do what it takes to help you.”
Moriarty looked relieved and for the first time smiled a genuine smile. It looked less wolfish and more gentle. Well, as gentle as it could be on that sinister face, but Sebastian sure saw his sturdy exterior crumble just a little bit. “I knew it was the right time and I was relying on the right person. Son, I have weeks to live. I have a rare intestinal condition that, even after three surgeries, isn’t healing. On the other hand, it’s worsening day by day. Once I am gone I would want you to be with Jim round the clock, as his bodyguard and lieutenant when he takes over my work, and never let him be around knives, blades and guns on his ‘off-colour’ days. To be his friend and confidante, because deep down he is lonely and can’t trust people. I want you to also be his protector, just like your father was mine. But your job will be tougher, since the most protection he needs……is from himself.”
***
A week later James Sr arranged for his son to meet Sebastian.
The meeting didn’t go at all per Sebastian’s expectations.
When Jim appeared at the formal dining room to have dinner with his father and to meet the man his dad wanted to introduce him to, Sebastian noticed that his photographs didn’t do him any justice at all. James Jr had a voluptuous sensuality and a thrilling energy in him, an aura of cool nonchalance and sizzling charisma which we wore like an invisible cloak, and no photograph in the world could have captured any of that. But Jim didn’t seem half as impressed by Sebastian as Sebastian was impressed by him. If anything, he seemed irritated.
“Don’t tell me I drove across town to meet an ordinary dude, some dumb blonde?” He barked.
Sebastian almost gasped. Not at the man’s rudeness but his audacity. But Moriarty clearly doted on his son and was used to his bratty behaviour. “Sit down Jimmy. Dorothy has prepared your favourite lobster soufflé and cheesecake.”
“Buy me a teddy bear too,” Jim grumbled and took his seat opposite to Sebastian. Moriarty sat at the head of the long, polished table which could easily accommodate fifty diners.
“Jimmy, I have something important to discuss.”
Jim threw a fork away and snapped, “The servants are getting lazy. That fork had a scratch. Why wasn’t it tossed to the bin?”