Martin blinked. “Why Autostone?”
“If not for them,” Damon said, “you and I never would have met.”
They bumped slices and ate. The pizza was as good as everything else Damon had presented to Martin so far.
“One day,” Damon said, between bites, “you’ll have an office like this. Even bigger. I’m serious. You’ll see. Remember this moment.”
Martin set down his pizza. “Why are you doing this?”
“What am I doing?”
“This. Hanging out with me. Introducing me to your friends. You setting me up for some sort of revenge?”
Damon chuckled. “Nope. It’s much cornier than that.”
Martin waited as Damon took another bite. Finally Damon said, “You remind me of me.”
Martin made a face.
“I warned you it was corny. But it’s true. Before all this, I was like you. Talent, smarts, and more passion than most, but stuck.”
“I wouldn’t say that I was stuck.”
Damon smiled. “I know. But point is, someone showed me, and I want to show you. It’s that simple. You okay with that?”
Martin gazed out the windows at the rushing city below. Does this really happen? Was this how you went from an average career and an average life to—what? Is this how you reached the top of the world?
Martin nodded. “I’m fine with it,” he said.
“Good. Have you thought about the trip?”
“Of course.”
Damon stopped eating to give Martin his full attention. “Look, this is more than just a white-water rafting trip. You know that. These men, they don’t extend this sort of invitation lightly. This is an opportunity. A beginning. And I’ll be right there for you.” Damon patted his arm. “Kind of like your big brother.”
Martin watched as his host finished his slice, then used the letter opener to cut another. A few weeks ago Damon Darrell was just a name in the newspapers, just a mouth barking into banks of TV microphones, a figure larger than life. But now, somehow, this man was his friend and, odd as it seemed, his mentor.
“Pizza’s getting cold,” Damon said. “You all right?”
Martin nodded. “I am. It’s just—I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s easy,” Damon said. “Say you’ll come on the trip.”
CHAPTER 27
You’re going where?”
As Martin recoiled, it occurred to him that maybe it would have been better to wait until their dinner with Glen and Lisa had concluded before breaking the news to Anna. Martin had assumed that Anna wouldn’t make too big a fuss in front of their guests at the dining table. But judging by the ice in Anna’s eyes and the way she clenched her steak knife, Martin had assumed wrong.
Glen was surprised by Martin’s news as well, but his reaction was the opposite. “Holy shit.” Glen looked up from the steak he was cutting. “That’s big. When were you going to tell me?”
“They just asked me at the poker game the other night.”
“So, give me some details. Where? When?”
“In two weeks. We leave Thursday the twenty-fourth. Return the following Monday. The Wenatchee River. It’s in Washington State, somewhere outside of Seattle. That’s where they always go. And get this—we’re taking Solomon’s corporate jet.”
“Nice. Now that’s the way to travel.”
“Yeah, it should be fun.”
Anna, having heard enough, slapped down her fork and knife and glared at Martin. “I don’t believe this. Don’t you remember our talk in the car? No crazy rafting trips. You promised me.”
Martin shook his head. “No, I think my exact words were ‘I’m not interested in going.’ Can you actually tell me when I used the word promise?”
Anna bristled. “Don’t do that. You know I hate it when you do that.”
Nothing drove Anna crazier than having Martin shift into lawyer mode during one of their spats.
“Look, Anna, I’m sorry. I truly am. I knew you wouldn’t be happy about the trip, but this is more complicated than it looks. When they invited me, I had to accept. I had no choice.”
“What do you mean, you had no choice? You just say, ‘Sorry. No thank you. I’d prefer not to risk my life playing macho man in the woods. Next subject.’”
Lisa nodded in agreement. “Sounds easy enough to me.”
Glen shook his head. “No. It doesn’t work like that. Not with these men. When power brokers invite you on a golfing getaway or to go fishing or partake in any activity that takes up a great deal of their very precious time—that’s when they’re ready to talk some real business.”
“Exactly,” Martin said to Anna. “Just try to think of this as a business trip.”
“A golfing getaway I don’t have a problem with. But this rafting business . . . I don’t know. Martin, it’s too risky.”
“Come on, Solomon is nearly seventy and Tobias is like three hundred pounds. How risky can it really be?”
“I’m not married to them. I’m married to you. And you have to grow old with me. That’s your duty.”
Martin reached across the table and squeezed Anna’s hand. “It’s just four days. I’ll get a little wet, and be back before you know it.”
“Just promise me that you won’t get yourself killed.”
Martin raised his right hand. “I promise not to get myself killed. And you got Glen and Lisa as witnesses, so the promise is legally binding. I can’t break it.”
What Anna said next sounded playful, but her eyes were earnest. “You better not.” Then Anna rose from her seat and, with Lisa’s help, she cleared the plates and went into the kitchen to get dessert.
Martin turned to Glen. “Hope you won’t have a problem holding down the fort for a few days. When I get back you can take a few days off.”
“Partner, I have an even better idea. Why don’t you ask Damon if I can go too? I’m sure there’s enough room in the woods for one more.”
Martin’s stomach suddenly felt like a hollow pit. This was the question he feared Glen would ask. Glen loved anything that had to do with the great outdoors: camping, fishing, horseback riding, even sport shooting. Back in NYU, Glen had almost convinced Martin to join a rock-climbing club until Martin realized that instead of a rock wall in some gym, Glen meant real rocks. Big rocks. Martin knew that the instant his partner learned about the rafting trip, Glen would once again hear the call of the wild. Martin thought about lying. He could tell Glen that the raft only held six men or that, because of all the gear, Solomon’s jet had already reached its weight capacity. But Martin didn’t feel comfortable deceiving his partner.
“I’ve been itching for something exactly like this,” Glen said as he drained the last remaining drop from his wineglass. “And it’s the perfect way for them to get to know me better. What do you think?”
“Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Martin frowned. “Come on, Glen. Do you really need me to spell it out? You wouldn’t fit in.”
“I wouldn’t fit in? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means what you think it means. If we’re going to do business with these men, everybody has to know exactly where they stand. I’m sorry, man.”
A kaleidoscope of emotions played on Glen’s face, but before either man could say another word, Anna and Lisa returned from the kitchen with coffee and dessert.
Glen threw up his hand to get their attention. “Both of you need to hear this. Martin has just told me that I am not welcome on his rafting trip because I’m white.”
Anna and Lisa turned to Martin. “Is that true?” Anna said.
Martin rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. Don’t everybody act so shocked. These are hugely successful black businessmen. The key word being black. That’s what makes them unique. That’s the special bond they share.” Martin turned to Glen. “It’s not that they dislike you or anything. It’s just that this group is special. It’s a black thing.”
Glen laughed. “A black thing? Are you serious?”
“Yes. A black thing. I don’t know what else to call it.”
“What would you call it if a bunch of my friends didn’t want you around because you’re black?”
“That’s completely different.”
“Oh, really? How?”
“It’s different because of history. There’s no shortage of rice-whitepeople clubs, believe me. Come on, Glen, you can probably explain why it’s different better than I can. You’re just offended because it means you can’t go for a ride in Solomon’s jet.”
Glen sat silently a moment. Then he nodded. “Martin, you’re right. It is different. I can’t argue with you there.” He got to his feet and turned to Lisa. “We should go.”
“Would you stop being so dramatic?” Martin said. “Try to remember why I’m doing this. For us. For the firm. You really think I want to go on a stupid rafting trip?”
“It’s cool, Martin. Everything is copa. I’m just not in the mood to sit here and eat cake with you. And listen, don’t worry about the firm. While you’re off bonding with your brothers in the woods, I’ll keep things running. No worries, partner.”
The instant Anna shut the door behind Glen and Lisa, she turned to her husband, shaking her head. “He’s not just your business partner, Martin. He’s your best friend.”
“Glen will be fine,” Martin said, slicing himself a piece of cake. “He understands. You heard him.”
“I heard him loud and clear. And if you think he’s fine with this, then you didn’t hear him at all.”
CHAPTER 28
Between making her morning rounds and passing out meds, Anna decided to sit down for a few moments at the nurses’ station. Maxine, the unit secretary, was away from her desk, leaving her computer terminal unattended.
Anna stared at the monitor. At the bobbing Elmhurst Hospital Center logo screen saver.
What are you waiting for? Anna thought. That’s why you waited for Maxine to leave, isn’t it?
Anna didn’t want to do it; in fact she was kind of proud of the fact that she had resisted for two weeks. But today was different. Today was the day before Martin’s rafting trip and she was finding it impossible to resist any longer.
“Screw it.”
Anna jumped into Maxine’s chair and hit F9 on the keyboard, bypassing the patient database. Next she clicked the Google icon and waited for the search page to load.
After Martin dropped the bomb about the trip, he had showed Anna some YouTube videos of rafting trips on class III rivers just like the river that Martin and his “gang” would be riding. When Anna imagined river rafting, the first image that always popped into her mind was the opening sequence from the Saturday morning television show Land of the Lost. The one where Rick, Will, and Holly, on a routine expedition, go plunging over a waterfall. The other images that popped into her mind weren’t much tamer. Little yellow rafts jammed with helmeted paddlers swept helplessly by raging water, flung against jutting rocks, and overturned by surging waves. But the clips that Martin showed Anna of hooting and hollering tourists bobbing along on calm rivers were nothing like that.
There were dozens of these clips on YouTube and they went a long way to soothe Anna’s fears. But not far enough. Because there was one thing that Martin did not show Anna. The accidents. Every clip was sunshine and good times, but what about the accidents? Anna wasn’t unreasonable. She knew that everything involved risk. Hell, people died in their own bathtubs every day. But some activities were riskier than others, and she wanted to know how risky this one was. River rafting on a class III river looked like a damn good time on YouTube—but every year, how often does that good time end in death?
The Google search window waited for Anna’s query. Anna typed “class III river rafting accidents,” then clicked on a few of the results. Story after story of accidents on class III rivers. What Anna found surprising was that only one story involved a death and that was five years ago. The vast majority of the accidents involved capsized rafts and weren’t very serious. Anna could feel some of her tension dissipating, like the loosening of a noose. Maybe she was overreacting, letting the memory of a cheesy kids’ show cause her to behave irrationally. Just to be certain, Anna decided to modify her search. Just ask the question directly and get it over with.
Anna typed “river rafting death statistics.” Anna decided to leave out class III this go-round because she wanted to get more hits and assumed that statistics would automatically separate the incidents by river types.
Anna took a deep breath and clicked on the search. Dozens more links appeared. Most were articles about how safe river rafting was. Anna scanned a few of the articles and discovered to her relief that most of the deaths that occurred in the sport involved class V rivers and above, or some other outside factor like a heart condition.
A smile creased Anna’s lips. But as she reached to close the browser, she spotted something on the monitor that made her pause. A link to another story about a rafting accident. But this link was different from the others. This link contained a name that she recognized.
Anna clicked on the link and a new page loaded. A three-year-old article from the New York Times. Anna began to read and was immediately stunned. “I—I don’t believe it.” With each shocking sentence she felt panic welling up inside her—and something else. Her breakfast. Seized by a wave of nausea, Anna clamped her hand over her mouth.
“Anna, are you okay?” It was Maxine, returning to the station.
Anna shoved past her coworker and fled down the corridor toward the bathroom, clutching her mouth and stomach.
CHAPTER 29
Martin peeked out the living room window and frowned at the empty driveway. He didn’t really expect to see Damon out there, since Damon was due at 8:00 a.m. and it was only 7:47, but Martin was anxious and just wanted to get this party started already.
Working extra hours at the firm to get ahead of his legal work helped the two weeks leading up to the trip fly by. During that period, because of Damon’s schedule, Martin and Damon met just once more for lunch. Martin tried to milk Damon for details about their upcoming adventure, but oddly, Damon showed little interest in discussing the topic. Instead Damon did what he loved to do, tell war stories. He entertained Martin with firsthand accounts of his legendary courtroom conquests. Martin remembered the headlines, of course, and found every word fascinating, but he would have preferred to discuss the trip. Even Martin’s request for a list of needed rafting wear was blown off by Damon.
“Everything you need will be provided,” Damon said, then he catapulted onto something else.
Despite Damon’s assurances, Martin spent a Saturday afternoon shopping for items he thought he might need. He purchased a pair of hiking boots, some new jeans, a waterproof jacket, and a backpack. He considered charging the items to the firm as a business expense, but Martin wasn’t sure if Glen would agree. Considering the chilly mood in the office lately, Martin decided to just eat it.
Before turning in last night, Martin, prickly with anticipation, packed for the trip. Now, like him, his new backpack waited near the front door, ready to go.
Martin checked his watch, 7:54, and frowned out at the empty curb again. Then a thought occurred to him. Where’s Anna? Doesn’t she know it’s almost time?
Martin knew that Anna wasn’t thrilled about the trip but there was no way that she would let him leave without kissing him good-bye. Would she? At first the YouTube rafting videos that Martin showed Anna really seemed to do the trick. For the last two weeks Anna seemed fine. Her fears had been calmed. But last night something had changed. While Martin packed his gear, Anna was quiet and sullen. Martin knew that Anna had left the hospital early because she wasn’t feeling well, but he had the distinct feeling that her bout with what appeared to be a mild stomach flu was not the source of her sour mood. He asked her repeatedly if she was okay, he even asked if it was the trip that was bugging her, but each time Anna just smiled and said
that she was fine. Martin didn’t believe her but there was no point in pushing. Martin wouldn’t exactly describe his wife as a delicate flower. If something was bugging Anna, she was going to let him know sooner or later.
Three sudden blasts of a car horn threatened to wake the entire neighborhood. Martin looked out and saw Damon’s shiny black Range Rover creeping to a stop in the driveway. Damon, dressed in a windbreaker, waved from the driver’s seat. Martin waved back, signaling that he’d be right out. But where is Anna? When Martin turned from the window to call his wife, he found Anna standing directly behind him. The look on Anna’s face was a troubling mix of reluctance and guilt.
“What’s wrong?” Martin asked.
Anna sighed. “I wasn’t sure what to do. I lay awake half the night thinking about it.”
“Thinking about what?”
“I know how much this trip means to you, I really do. So I didn’t want to say anything, but if I don’t and something happens—”
“Anna, what are you talking about?”
Anna held up a piece of paper. A printout of a newspaper article. “I found this on the Internet yesterday. You should read it.”
Damon’s horn beckoned Martin outside.
“Listen, couldn’t I read it when I get back?”
Anna shook her head. “No, you need to read it now. Before you leave. Please.”
Martin frowned and took the printout. There was a photo of a bespectacled middle-aged black man beneath the headline “Writer Dies in Tragic Accident.”
Martin sighed and tried to hand the printout back. “Anna, come on, I really thought we were past this.”
Anna crossed her arms. “Just read it, Martin.”
Martin sighed, knowing there was no way in hell that Anna was going to let him leave until he read that article. End of story.
The article was about a novelist named Donald Jackson, the man in the photo, who went on a river-rafting vacation in Wenatchee, Washington, with some friends and drowned when their raft capsized. Now Martin could see what was so troubling to Anna. Martin had to admit that the coincidence was a bit disturbing. How many black men go on river-rafting trips to Wenatchee? But that’s all it was: a coincidence. Martin tried to explain that to his wife, but she wouldn’t have it. What Anna said next blindsided him.
Forty Acres: A Thriller Page 8
