Chapter 57
"First of the Funerals"
It was Christmas Day, but it didn't seem like Christmas Day by any stretch of the imagination. At Kennedy Airport, a chartered Pan Am 747 arrived with the coffins of the Pan Am 103 victims. Among those on board were Raymond Alden, who felt a sense of betrayal and anger that Stewart Swinton was acting on behalf of Team Rocket while working under his leadership. This anger converted into sadness and back for the elder business magnet almost as if he couldn't make up his mind on what to feel.
The same was said for the rest of the victims' families, but Raymond had a deeper feeling more than anything. For the entire Christmas Day, Raymond sat in the funeral home while his daughter's body was being prepared for viewing on December 26th.
"Mr. Alden?" said the funeral home director, stepping into the waiting room of the funeral home. "She's ready."
Rising to his feet, Raymond followed the funeral director into the viewing area where Laura's mahogany casket was placed at the front of the room. Without saying a word, he approached the casket and looked down at his daughter's lifeless body. Her long blonde hair was shampooed and straightened; her makeup was heavily done with rouge, eyeshadow and red lipstick on her lips; she was dressed in a black turtleneck and matching pants with black ankle boots. A full reflection on how she lived, rich and lost despite having everything a woman like her could have ever wanted.
"How do you like her, Mr. Alden?" asked the director.
"She's beautiful," Raymond answered, his eyes locked on his daughter's body. "She's beautiful."
"I'll let you have a few moments alone if you want."
"Thank you."
As the funeral director left the viewing room, Raymond remained static and stiff almost as if he couldn't move. It was then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of brown rosary beads, wrapping them in his daughter's hands.
"Damn you, Stewart," Raymond said to herself. "Look at what you've done. All this so you could challenge my decision to send you to Moscow? How would you like it if someone did this to your child? Oh wait, you don't have one."
As he spoke, several tears came out of the tycoon's eyes, but they were tears of anger, not sadness. In a way, this was a continuation of the conversation we had the previous night at Tundergarth. And once again, he was looking at our lord and master on the cross that was placed on the inside door of the casket.
"Master," he pleaded. "If you ever approach the lowlife in your kingdom, send him to hell where he belongs…along with the rest of the scum from Team Rocket!"
Just then, the doors to the viewing room opened and that was a sign that the wake was about to begin. As the somber organ music played, each of the mourners came through the viewing room at a somber pace. Many came from the publishing houses, others were close family and friends. There were even members of the press sitting in the back of the viewing room, including some of our New York bureau members of CMN.
"They're reporting on Laura's funeral," said Raymond's son. "Just as you requested."
"Good Henry," replied Raymond. "They need to let the world know how all of us feel. They need to see the bodies of the dead, the bodies of those they killed."
Looking at the news camera stationed at the back of the room, Raymond ensured that the message would indeed go out by any means necessary.
"I checked on Ponyta and Rapidash before I came over," added Henry. "They're restless, acting as if something happened to Laura."
"Which it did."
And sure enough back at the barn on Raymond's property, Ponyta and Rapidash reared in their stalls as a way of mourning their mistress, the rider that would never ride them again. They were crying out for their mistress, mourning like the rest of the Pan Am 103 families.
…
Meanwhile, back in Moscow, Stewart Swinton continued to be interrogated for answers by Scully and Mulder. Now, he was stretched out by his arms and legs, bare chested and bloodied in certain areas.
"I hope you are willing to speak, Mr. Swinton," remarked Scully. "Trust me when my partner and I don't want to take this any further."
Stewart continued to feel a sense of sharp pain in his hands from when Scully dug her stilettos into them.
"Miss Alden," he gasped, causing the two agents to look at each other in confusion. "Laura Alden, the bitch…"
"Who?" Mulder asked, getting up from the chair. "Who are you talking about?"
It was becoming apparent that Stewart was suffering from the wounds as a result of his interrogation to the point where he became psychologically broken.
"Laura Alden, Will…heiress to the firm. She…"
"Who is this Laura Alden and who is this Will?"
"Will Randall," Stewart whispered, lowering his head in exhaustion. "The bastard and the bitch were planning to marry each other. They were going to keep me in Moscow forever. I had to do something."
"Heiress of what?"
"Publishing firm…in New York."
"So you joined Team Rocket with the intention to kill Laura Alden and Will Randall?" asked Scully. "What a waste of life. Should have embraced your new job."
Stewart said nothing and merely spat at Scully's feet in mockery. She wanted to strike him, but couldn't bring herself to do so and neither could Mulder. In their minds, Stewart had suffered enough, but they still needed answers. Hopefully now, they would soon get the answers they wanted.
…
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