She ignored Jeremy and addressed Arthur, instead. "I have come to expect faulty reasoning from the young men in my family, Mr. Blauefee, especially as it pertains to their bad taste in 'romance.' In fact, my beloved Jonathan was rather an expert in that field, as you will recall. But I have no reason to stomach it from someone in my employ; the fact that I have compensated you quite adequately for your time, and the danger you were exposed to as a result, has, I believe, absolved me from any responsibility in that regard." She looked from Arthur to Jeremy and back again. "My decision about this matter has been made, and it is intractable; you will have no further contact with my nephew from this day forward, and I shall obtain a court order if need be." Then she turned on her heels to leave.
"Why are you acting this way?" Jeremy screamed at the back of her head.
She stopped, turned around slowly and smiled at Arthur. "Have you not told him?"
she asked, her voice deadly sweet.
Arthur stared her down. "I've been very, very honest with him. About everything."
"So you've told him that you taught my Jonathan your perverted ways, and that you were the one who ruined his father's self-esteem so completely that the only woman he thought he deserved was a gutter slut?"
"Don't call my mom a slut," Jeremy warned.
"And you"--she blinked wildly at her nephew--"are you not absolutely repulsed by the idea that he...and your father...? Am I the only sane person left standing in this room?"
"Did Jonathan tell you I 'perverted' him?" Arthur asked. "Because it happened very, very differently from what you just said."
"His therapist," she snapped. "She told me everything you did to him, and you should thank me for the rest of your natural life that I ignored her advice and didn't have you carted off to prison for child molestation, or statutory rape. After all, you were the adult, as I so clearly recall, and he was still a child of sixteen. And now look at you," she said, her voice low and gravelly, "once again polluting my family's waters, ruining yet another generation of Tyler men." She shot a grimace at her nephew. "Be careful of this one, my dear, and be grateful you won't be having sons anytime soon--because he'd probably be screwing them behind your back, as well."
With that, she turned to storm off.
"Then why did you keep me here?" Arthur asked, but she kept walking. "If you knew all of this, why? "
"I had my reasons," she shot back without turning. "Have your bags packed and be out of here by seven tonight. You're fired."
And she was gone.
"I can't believe she just did that, after everything you've done for us, especially for her," said Jeremy with a shaking voice. "I'll go talk to her."
Arthur was filled with cold fury. "No. You stay here."
"What're you gonna do?"
"She can fire me, but she can't shut me up," he said, and then went to find her.
The entrance to her office was closed, but he could see the bar of light under the door. He twisted the lever and opened it without knocking.
She looked up over her tortoise-shell reading glasses, from where she sat at her desk. "Get out of here," she ordered, then went back to the pile of papers spread out before her.
"The real reason you want me out of here is because you don't want me to tell him," he said.
She smiled, tapping the desktop with the gold pen in her hand. "You're going to leave now because, once again, you've betrayed my trust, and you can be sure that if I find out you did anything to him before midnight on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, you'll be sitting in jail by this time tomorrow. Other than that, I've no idea what you're referring to. Now, get out before I call the police." She picked up her phone.
"Ten million euros, Katharine? Isn't he worth that much? Why didn't you just pay it? What were you thinking?"
She blinked up at him for a moment, and then placed the phone slowly back down on her desk. "It's still a tremendous sum of money-- more, I can guarantee, than you'll ever see in your lifetime." She looked away from him. "even I couldn't raise it in time."
"That's ridiculous."
"No, it is not." She looked at him squarely. "Does he know any of this?"
"Not yet," he replied. "I just found out today."
"And you won't tell him."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because the truth would crush him."
"Then tell me the truth. What the hell happened?" He looked at her and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you just pay the money and get us out of there?"
She shook her head sadly. "You've no idea what I've been through. What mayhem I've wrought, trying to make this all work out."
"Try me."
"Then sit," she said, motioning abruptly to one of the high-back leather wing chairs flanking the front of her desk. "None of this was supposed to happen this way."
"What're you talking about?"
She sighed. "As you well know, since Bill's death I have been doing my very, very best to run Tyler, Inc. And although I've had some good advice from my board, some of the investments we've been involved with have been hurt, tremendously, by the shift in the economy. Especially with respect to our stocks, as well as our real estate holdings."
"Sure. But I'm sure you've diversified appropriately."
She smiled. "Certainly we have. But like every corporation, we've had some ups and downs. And as a result, I've thrown a good portion of our personal worth into some new endeavors, much of which went into that godforsaken resort."
"So let me guess," Arthur broke in. "Some of your other investments started failing, and you needed to get your cash out of the resort, so you had the government do it for you."
She laughed. "Good guess, but even I couldn't have orchestrated that whole
'organization of interest' mess. I'm afraid my ulterior motives were much less creative."
"How so?"
"You gave me the idea, yourself," she told him. "You told me that kidnappings were common in Brazil, so, as a prudent businesswoman, I had kidnapping insurance taken out on Jeremy."
"So I've been told."
"You knew about this as well?" she asked, looking genuinely surprised.
"I have my sources." Then his eyes grew huge as a terrible thought occurred to him. " Don't tell me you and Fabiano were in on this together! "
She closed her eyes. "It all went so terribly wrong. He double-crossed me--and I know I'm sounding like some old spy movie right now, but that's exactly what happened. He was to stage a kidnapping, keep Jeremy and you and Carlo safe but separated at his home, and then act as the mediator with 'the kidnappers.' Then instead of delivering the ransom to someone else, we were to split it--hence the exorbitant amount requested. It was all his idea, if that matters...which I suppose it does not; he suggested this plan when I tried to back out of the business."
"So why did you only offer to give him two million?"
"Because that's all I had available in the conversion of my liquid assets; the policy insists on a deductible, just like some cheap HMO. They require ten percent, plus fees. I thought maybe I could pay him the two million and forgo the insurance policy, because I was afraid they would find out somehow and I'd be indicted on charges of fraud."
"But why would an insurance company offer to cover Jeremy in the first place, without some sort of tangible protection for him, overseas? To not do that would be too risky."
"He had protection." She smiled slyly. " You. I offered, and they allowed, your credentials as a former Marine and FBI agent."
The realization that she had used him to further her escapade flared his anger, but he decided to let it go...for the moment."So why did Fabiano do what he did? Why didn't he just go along with the original plan?"
She got up from behind her desk and began pacing, with her arms folded over her breasts. "He wouldn't believe that we were--that we are--cash poor, so he upped the ransom to far beyond what even the policy paid.... I suppose he remembered how flush we were when Bill was alive; then, when the government came in with their<
br />
'anti-American' findings, he thought it was just an orchestration of mine to pull out my money, instead of what it was: plain, old-fashioned bad luck."
Or bad karma. "So Fabiano was the only one who knew about this?"
"As far as I know. But now you know. And I suppose after my saying what I have about you and Jeremy, you might consider going to the authorities with this information. But you will not."
He smiled, leaning forward in the big chair. "And why won't I?"
"Because if I suffer repercussions from this, no one suffers more than Jeremy. And you wouldn't like that, now, would you?"
"Of course not," he said, feeling relieved that he finally had some ammunition against her. "And I'm sure that since I know everything now, you'll want to, as they say, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'"
She stopped pacing and raised her eyebrows. "Are you my enemy now, Mr.
Blauefee?" she asked coyly.
"No, Katharine, of course not. I'm just disappointed that you went off like that in front of Jeremy, telling me I'm fired and calling his mother a gutter slut."
"Well, she was one, and you are. Fired I mean."
"Do you really want to do that to me?" He laughed.
"You've given me no choice, considering your violation of my nephew," she told him. "I never suspected you would seduce him, right under my nose--not to mention under poor Carlo's nose, for goodness sake." The look on her face suggested sheer disgust. "But since you've done this, I'm going to do you a favor and suggest you take a look at yourself, a good look, so you might see what I see."
"And what's that?" he asked, not caring. He sat back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other.
She cocked her head sideways at him and pulled off her reading glasses. "I see...someone who's been a failure in everything he's done--a failure as a soldier, as an FBI agent, as a son, from what I understand, and more tragically, as a man. And I must ask you: is it too difficult for you to find someone of your own ilk, or better yet, someone who might challenge you to become your better self?" He only looked at her blankly, so she continued. "No, you'll never do this because, developmentally, you're stunted--you're as immature as a tantrum-throwing brat."
"You've got no right to speak to me this way," he warned, "unless you're gonna give me equal time about what I think of you."
"No right?" She laughed, then got up and began walking in a slow circle around him. "You prey on boys because you think you can bamboozle someone like poor, gullible Jeremy into believing you actually have something to offer him. But what is it, exactly, that you possess? While he is the picture of nobility and youthful promise, you're an unemployed, forty-year-old houseboy! Why, he's so out of your league, you're not even playing the same sport!" She cackled. "What could you possibly offer him, except for an aging, puffed-up body and some occasional bad advice?"
"That's not fair, Katharine. I've done a lot for him, and for you. I would give my life for him!"
"Oh, so now you're the big noble man willing to give his life for his 'lover'?" She laughed. "Taking the bullet is the easy part, in my book; strangers do that for each other all the time in liquor store robberies. The real test of a man"--she pointed her finger at him--"is how far you'll tax yourself, push yourself and stretch yourself to please your lover, and to provide for him while always doing what's in his very best interest."
"You know I'd do anything for Jeremy, whether he was my lover or not. Any of the things you just mentioned I'll do."
"Is that really the case, Mr. Blauefee?"
"Of course!"
"Good. Because I intended to ask you what your plans were with him, after dropping that bomb on me today. Did I hear something about the two of you running off to my mountain chalet to frolic in the woods?"
"Jeremy wanted to go there," Arthur stated defensively. "And what does that have to do with what I'd do for him?"
"Of course you've missed my point, which is, exactly how long did you plan to live off my money?"
She paused, waiting for an answer, but he did not reply.
"Just as I thought. You'd never given gainful employment a moment's thought, so long as you could languish here by the sea, while occasionally running to the dry cleaner for us and vacuuming our carpets. Well, let me tell you that a real man would never, ever stand around on someone else's dime. And I'd sooner give everything I own to a dozen drunken hobos than to allow someone like you to deplete what's mine, or to take away from Jeremy anything that's coming to him.
You're an embarrassment of a man, Mr. Blauefee. And someday you'll thank me for what I'm doing now, as will poor Jeremy. Now, pack your paltry belongings and get out of my sight."
He looked down at the floor, feeling like an idiot; she was right, and he knew it.
"You love him very much, don't you?" she asked him in the most condescending tone he'd ever heard. "And he thinks he loves you, as well."
"That's what he tells me," he muttered bitterly.
"Then I want you to listen very, very carefully to what I am about to say, because I'm going to make it very, very easy for you to do the right thing." She was almost whispering now, as she clutched the corners of her desk. " If you do not leave here tonight with the promise you will end this illicit relationship, never to see or speak with him again, I will strip from him everything he has. I will disinherit him; I will revoke his trust. I will cast him from this house, seize that monstrous Range Rover he's so proud of, drain his college fund, and empty his savings and personal checking accounts. And when he returns to that gutter from whence he came, it'll be all your fault. "
He felt the blood drain from his face as he looked up at her. "You wouldn't do that to him."
"It would kill me to do so. Believe me, it would kill me. But as I see it, this is the only way to be rid of you." She shook her head. "And you'll never tell another soul on this earth that I was responsible for what happened to him in Brazil, because you love him too much to have him find out I nearly killed him, for money's sake.
It would crush him, destroy him, obliterate him--more, I dare say, than it'll hurt his foolish pride when he discovers you've run off." She placed her hands on her hips and raised herself up to her usual Victorian posture. "After all, we know how fickle teenage boys are when it comes to 'love.' Why, just yesterday, he was out there poolside holding hands with poor, jilted Carlo."
Arthur's eyes shifted from side to side as he tried to make sense of it all.
"Katharine, you can't do this. Somehow, and it won't be from me, but he'll find out what you're doing--what you've done. And he'll never forgive you."
"Oh, but I can do this, and I am doing this," she stated calmly. "This is a matter of life and death for me; I've never forgiven you for your role in Jonathan's demise, but I was willing to look the other way, so long as you washed our dirty dishes and served as our 'protector' and adhered to what I considered to be rather obvious rules of propriety." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You've overstepped your bounds gravely this time, Mr. Blauefee, so you've given me no choice. You will vanish, disappear--and in the spring, Jeremy will be off to school, where I'm certain he will meet a charming individual his own age and build a real life with him-- or her." She strode across the room, opened the door and held it wide. "I suggest you do the same," she suggested brightly. "And unless you are completely, absolutely lacking in common sense and integrity, you'll do the correct thing for once and leave us be."
He pushed himself up out of the chair and made his way to the doorway, where he stalled momentarily. "What...should I say to him?"
"I'll keep him sequestered while you pack. And you'll say nothing, but you may...send him an e-mail, which you will cc to me. One more, only. But you'll reveal absolutely nothing of what we've discussed, and you will do your absolute best to consider his feelings, and to give him peace about this very correct decision of yours to leave his life. Is this understood?"
He nodded, then quietly turned to leave. "This'll kill me, Katharin
e."
"Better you than I."
Chapter 50
Mom?"
"Hi, Artie. What's wrong?"
Numbly, he looked around his quarters for the last time, at his bags packed on the bed and the ocean roiling outside his window. "Nothing. Everything. I mean...I'll tell you when I see you. But I'm OK. I just need a place to stay for a couple days."
"Where are you?"
"Down the beach. Can I, uh, come stay with you?"
She sighed. "Of course...I've got some stuff piled in your room, so it'll take me a while to clean off the bed."
"Don't, Mom. I'll do it when I get there." He couldn't believe he was going back there, after all these years, after all he'd been through; but he wanted at least to say goodbye to her. "I just wanted to make sure it was OK without just showing up."
"I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon, so I might not be home when you get here."
"Is the key still there?"
"Where it's always been."
"Thanks, Mom."
"It's all right. I'll see you in a little bit."
He ended the call and grabbed his bags, fished his keys out of his pocket, pulled off the trio that belonged to the Tylers, opened the door to his quarters and looked out.
Neither Jeremy nor Katharine was around. Good. He needed to make this quick.
After leaving their house keys on the counter, he stole out through the kitchen door, hoping and not hoping to see him, then decided it was better not to; he needed to ensure a break, and anything lingering would only serve to depress him further.
After backing his old Taurus out of the stall, he headed up the cobblestone drive toward the gates, which he opened with his clicker. After he passed through the gates, he stopped, got out of the car and slipped the device inside their bomb shelter–like mailbox. Then he belted himself back in, drove down to Zumirez Road, and waited for traffic to clear before making a slow left into the opposite lanes.
As the Taurus wheezed lethargically up to speed, he realized he didn't care about going slower than the rushing traffic. He also didn't care about seeing his mother.
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