A Powerful Secret

by Dr. Kevin Leman

  Drew had been right. The Arctic crisis indeed would alter the trajectories of all three Worthington kids’ destinies. More deeply than any of them could have known, until now.

  His next call would be to Sarah. Other people underestimated her, but Will never would. He knew what she was capable of. She didn’t have to prove it to him.

  As an advocate, she was die-hard loyal and would fight to the end. But do something dirty or fight against her? You’d lose every time.

  63

  CHAUTAUQUA INSTITUTION

  The sun was slipping into the horizon when Bill Worthington, clothed in walking attire, approached the house.

  Sean spotted him, stepped out the screen door, and waited with tensed muscles. On the drive to Chautauqua, he’d run every potential scenario of this meeting through his mind. Now his head ached. He and Will had already agreed that tonight was not the time to inform Bill about the photos with the Polar Bear Bomber.

  Sean’s heart ached at how old his father suddenly appeared. At that moment, Bill looked up. Seeing Sean standing only feet away, he halted.

  Sean’s heart sank. Was that it? The end? Would his father not even greet him? Would he turn away?

  Bill tottered for a minute, as if uncertain. Then he stumbled forward, his face a torment of emotions. “Sean!” he called and reached out tentatively to hug him.

  The two men stood in an awkward embrace as the tension drained from Sean’s body.

  All is not lost. Perhaps we can rebuild. Or maybe we can build for the first time. Sean could never remember his father hugging him. Showing any physical affection was rare.

  “I understand now—what I hadn’t understood as I was growing up,” Sean began when his father stepped back. “I know who my birth father is, and that explains a lot. About me. About you. It must have been hard for you, wondering and not knowing until now.”

  “But—”

  “You treated me differently. Well, I am different. I didn’t know how much so until now. I didn’t understand you or why you were so hard on me. But I’m beginning to.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sean. I have already apologized to your mother for that, but I want to apologize to—”

  Sean plunged on. “But Thomas Rich is not my father. He’s not the one who raised me. You are. We haven’t often seen eye to eye. But Dad, I still love you and will always love you.”

  “My son!” It was a strangled cry of anguish and love. This time he wrapped his arms around his son with passion, as if he never wanted to let Sean go.

  For the first time ever, Sean felt accepted by his father. He returned the embrace, standing on equal footing at last with the man he respected more than any other. The man who had been the solid backdrop of his life, prompting him to stay on the path. The man he’d butted heads with, even avoided at times, but whom he now understood.

  What would it be like, for over three decades, to not know if one of your children was truly your biological child or your best friend’s? And still to treat that child as one of your own? The depth of his father’s sacrifice was unfathomable when Sean glimpsed it from that perspective.

  The screen door creaked, and Ava stepped out. Bill gathered her close until the trio formed a circle, standing in the embrace of a dazzling Chautauqua sunset.

  The man watched the reunion from his boat on the lake. No matter what the end would be, he had to allow time for this scene to play out. Focusing the binoculars on the two men’s faces, he saw the tension between them. He couldn’t hear the words exchanged, and that grated on him. There hadn’t been enough time or advance warning to tap into the Worthingtons’ extensive security system to get a listening device planted.

  He saw the flutter of the screen door opening, and then a woman stepped out. Ava. The man refocused the binoculars on her as she moved toward her husband and child. When Bill reached out to include her in the circle, the man decided he’d seen enough.

  He powered up the boat to head for shore.

  The three Worthingtons stood together, watching the last of the brilliant sunset before retiring inside.

  “I have something to give you,” Ava told Sean after Bill headed for the shower. She crooked a finger toward her green room.

  Sean followed. It had always been his favorite place in their summer house—the palms, the koi pond, the waterfall. Perhaps someday he’d give up city life, work from the tropics. With the kind of work he did for Worthington Shares, his base could be anywhere. Strange how he’d never thought of that before. It was as if the time on the mountain had torn off the veil covering his mind. Now the possibilities seemed broader. Even the colors of the green room were more vibrant.

  Ava moved toward the corner and her beloved sea chest, the weathered antique that had belonged to her grandmother. Since she’d been a girl, Ava had adorned it with shells and other sea treasures from Ireland and other countries where she’d traveled. It was a work in progress, she said, and a good reminder that life was an odd assortment of experiences found along the way, not a perfect masterpiece whose pattern was distinguishable from the beginning.

  She opened the chest, removed a small item, and handed it to Sean. It was a baby shoe that didn’t even fill the palm of his hand.

  “Turn it over,” she murmured.

  On the back of the shoe was handwriting he recognized as his mother’s. The shoe was inscribed with “Sean,” and then below it, “A Gift.”

  “When you outgrew this first pair of walking shoes,” she said, “I turned them upside down and wrote on them ‘Sean Thomas, A Gift of Love.’ I wanted you to know, no matter what, that you are a gift of love and that you are very loved. I want you to have it now.”

  He nodded. “I understand.”

  Pain flickered over her regal face. “I no longer have the other shoe. I wish I did.”

  64

  NEW YORK CITY

  Sarah had been pacing her apartment, waiting for Will’s call. “About time,” she shot at him after answering her phone.

  “It was a setup,” Will reported with no preamble. “But then you knew that already.”

  “Still, it’s good that’s confirmed. Carson?”

  “And how did you figure that?” he asked.

  “Give me some credit, big brother. I’m not as airheaded as you think.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve never thought that. And yes, you’re right. Jon still there?”

  “No.” She laughed. “He does have to work sometimes. He only rarely babysits. So tell me all you know, and then I’ll tell you what I know.”

  After a short briefing—something the Worthingtons were masters of in their rapidly moving universe—both had the information they needed.

  “We’re agreed then,” Will said.

  “Yep. Sandstrom and Carson go down, whatever it takes—and anybody else who decided to hitch their wagon to those two,” she proclaimed. “It’s time for a little justice, Old West style.”

  “So you did learn something from those Westerns you said you hated,” he teased.

  “I did. But you’re sidetracking the point. When I said anybody else, I meant anybody else.”

  “Even the president of the United States?” His tone was sober.

  “Yes, especially him.”

  “Then I have another phone call to make,” Will said.

  He didn’t explain. Then again, that was Will. He simply took care of things.

  Will paused only a minute before he connected to a phone number he’d been given but had never used. What he planned next could backfire terribly, but he had to act. Not acting would put his brother and sister directly in the line of sight of those who had no scruples. He’d thought through every angle for weeks.

  Will was surprised when Thomas Spencer Rich II picked up on the first ring. He’d expected to at least go through one or more assistants who would tell him Thomas wasn’t available, but that he could leave a message. Maybe Thomas only answered because it was late on a Saturday night. Will hadn’t realized until that moment just h
ow late it was.

  “Will Worthington,” Thomas said in a deep baritone. “What can I do for you?”

  “Mr. Rich, as you know, we’re old family friends. My mother doesn’t know I’m calling you. Neither does my father. They might not approve of what I’m about to ask you. But because of our connection—your friendship especially with my mother—I am requesting your assistance and your confidence on a highly delicate matter.”

  “Oh? And what might that be?” Thomas’s tone was curious but also a bit pensive.

  Was Thomas aware that he was Sean’s birth father? Will didn’t know and had decided not to bring it up. If Thomas knew, it would make what Will had to relate much easier. If not, it still needed to be said. Will would have to trust the deep friendship his mother and father had forged with Thomas at Harvard to encourage him to do the right thing.

  “It has to do with some photos that have come to my attention, and what they really mean.”

  65

  CHAUTAUQUA INSTITUTION

  Sean awoke late the next morning with the sun beaming into his bedroom. Stretching, he flung back the luxurious coverlet and caught a whiff of breakfast aromas. His mother was doing what she loved—cooking. It smelled like Swedish pancakes, one of his favorites. Nothing wheat-germ, too healthy, or cardboard-tasting today. He exhaled in relief.

  He was admiring the view out the window when his mom knocked on his door, then stuck her head in. Only mothers could get away with that.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead. I’m making Swedish pancakes. Come when you’re ready.”

  So he was right. His stomach rumbled in acknowledgment. “Fabulous. I just want to give Will a quick call first. Then I’ll be there.”

  “All right.” But she lingered. “Welcome home, son,” she whispered at last, then padded back down the hallway.

  He smiled. For the first time, he truly did feel at home among his family.

  NEW YORK CITY

  “Did you just get up?” Will asked when he heard Sean’s voice. “Come on. It’s past 11. My kids had me up at 7:00.”

  “Hey,” Sean said in a serious tone, “I only wanted to thank you—for having my back. I know this time it cost you a great deal, and I won’t forget it.”

  “That’s what big brothers do for annoying little brothers,” Will teased. For once he was the one lightening the mood. It still felt unnatural, but maybe Laura’s coaching over the years was paying off. “If you’ve got a minute, let’s loop Sarah in and figure out a plan.”

  “Three of us against the world. We can’t go wrong,” Sean teased back.

  “It’s really good to have you home,” Will admitted.

  “Okay, enough of the mushy stuff. Let’s get to business.”

  Will laughed. Their roles were still reversed.

  It only took about 10 minutes for the three siblings to conference and figure out next steps.

  “I’ll brief Jon. He knows he’s got the exclusive story on the full exposé of Sandstrom, once we’re ready, and we’ll be working with Darcy,” Sarah said. “It’ll happen fast. Jon’s got most of the story pulled together. He’s just been waiting for the final details and the go-ahead.”

  “So we’re good. Then I have somewhere to go,” Sean said.

  “Oh, where’s that?” Sarah asked.

  “Hey, sis, if I wanted you to know, I would have told you.”

  “Well, if you think for one minute you’re going to disappear again and not tell me . . .” Sarah started in on him.

  Will shook his head and chuckled. His brother was back to his enigmatic self. His sister was back in attorney mode. Both were back to bickering. Things were getting back to normal.

  It felt good.

  CHAUTAUQUA INSTITUTION

  After Sean’s stomach was full of Swedish pancakes and lingonberries, he had one more call to make.

  Elizabeth picked up immediately. “You working things out with your family?”

  Leave it to Elizabeth to go straight to the heart of any matter.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You okay?” Her warmth and concern poured over him like a balm.

  “I am. And I was wondering if you might have a little time.”

  “Sure,” she said, “I’m here. We can talk about anything you want. Take as much time as you need.”

  “I was thinking more a little visit out your way. I could catch a flight to Seattle in the morning. If you could carve out a few hours, that is.”

  “Wow! That would be fabulous!” Her voice was radiant, happy. “And it’s perfect timing. I just finished a huge research project for the boss—you know, my dad—and I bet the old salt would give me a couple of days off.”

  “We could even do the Space Needle, anything you want.”

  “You? Tourist stuff?” She laughed. “Things have changed.”

  “Maybe more than you know.”

  She sobered. “Okay, just tell me when your flight will land, and I’ll be there.”

  As soon as they ended the call, he booked the earliest Monday morning flight to Seattle that he could find.

  LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

  The late-night call was unexpected and startled the man.

  “Looks like it’s going to happen soon,” his contact said. “Tuesday morning, latest.”

  “And the other?” the man asked.

  “It’ll be a done deal by tomorrow noon.”

  66

  EN ROUTE TO SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

  Sean stored his carry-on and settled back in his first-class seat. He closed his eyes, putting the past behind him. Even though Sandstrom had messed with Sean’s life behind the scenes, Sean didn’t need to see the guy arrested. The photos couldn’t yet be proven, but Sandstrom’s criminal negligence now could. His sister had done her job well. Sean might never get any personal revenge for what Sandstrom had tried to do to him—and what Carson could still do to him—by revealing the photos, but Sandstrom would at least pay for some of what he’d done. He’d likely spend time behind bars, thinking about what he should have done differently. That was enough for Sean.

  He focused now on what was in front of him—the new plan that had been working through his head since his time on the mountain in Corvo. That plan had everything to do with a certain quirky scientist named Elizabeth Shapiro at the University of Washington.

  NEW YORK CITY

  CEO Eric Sandstrom looked like he was in shock. Now in handcuffs, he was being led out of the American Frontier headquarters under police escort. He would be arraigned for criminal negligence—knowing there were problems with the oil platform, drilling, and other procedures, and ordering the process to not only continue but be pushed ahead—and also for numerous counts of environmental abuses that had devastated international waters and communities along those waters since then. But it was the campaign cash violation that had triggered the arrest. Carson had turned on him.

  Will had joined the shareholder suit against AF, giving muscle and confidence to the other shareholders.

  With only a few texts, Sean had engineered the agreement of multiple ecological NGOs across the world to also file suit against Sandstrom. Their signed agreements had been scanned or faxed to Sarah and already were sitting on her desk this morning.

  At the very least, Sandstrom would face some jail time and stiff penalties that would strip him of any resources.

  Sarah and Darcy watched as he was urged into the backseat of the squad car. Sarah wished they’d also been able to prove he’d set up the bombing of his own building and perhaps also engineered the death of the Polar Bear Bomber. But she, Darcy, and Jon hadn’t been able to do that yet, nor could they touch Jason Carson, who was protected by the former attorney general’s deal with the president.

  As the squad car drove off, Darcy high-fived Sarah. “One down, more to go.” She grinned.

  “You got that right,” Sarah declared.

  It was her job to take the CEO down, but in this case she felt a personal satisfaction. The man who had tried to at
tack her family in multiple ways would now go through the due process of law. She’d closed the book on Sandstrom.

  Jon’s full exposé of Sandstrom’s criminal negligence in the Arctic fiasco would run online at the New York Times within the hour and then in hard copy on the front page Tuesday morning. The rumors of the end had given Sandstrom just enough hours to be nervous, try to lawyer up, and then realize he’d need to get out of the country pronto. He’d been throwing a thumb drive of key documents in his briefcase and erasing a sector of his laptop when the squad cars arrived.

  Sarah and Darcy exchanged a look of steely determination. Now that Sandstrom was wrapped up with a bow, Jason Carson was next in their sights.

  Will couldn’t help it. He didn’t need to be there officially. He was no longer a board member of American Frontier. But his long history with the company and his sense of justice won out. He had to see Sandstrom taken down. So he stood now just outside the AF building—the scene of one of the most notorious domestic terror incidents in American history—and watched as Sandstrom ducked into the backseat of the patrol car.

  What would happen to American Frontier next? Will had an idea, and it wouldn’t be pretty. If it was to survive as a company, AF would need to find new leadership, redirect their efforts, invest heavily in research before jumping the gun on any project, deal honestly with the media nightmare that would surround them, and push forward on any and all efforts to repair whatever environmental damage could be fixed. In other words, the company faced an overwhelming mountain.

  However, Will also knew that somehow the company would survive and press forward. It just wouldn’t be on his watch, as he’d thought. Things would have to greatly change in the mix of board members for Will to have the opportunity to assume the CEO position.

  When the squad car drove away, Will turned to leave. He caught a flash of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye, across the street from him. But it couldn’t be . . .