The Gatekeeper's Son

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The Gatekeeper's Son Page 6

by C. R. Fladmark


  After the waiter took our orders, we sat in silence. Lin appeared to be content with that—after all, the only thing we had in common was Edward.

  I checked out the other diners, who arrived in pairs or groups of four, all well-dressed and reeking of money. I noticed several people glance our way, probably because of Lin.

  Our appetizers arrived after an agonizing wait. I grabbed the proper utensil from the cluster around my plate, happy to have something to do.

  “Good, you know how to use cutlery,” Lin said. “That’s one less thing for you to work on.”

  I grabbed a lemon wedge and squeezed. Instead of squirting onto the raw oysters, a stream of juice shot straight into my eye. I yelped and attacked my eye, mopping up the tears with my napkin, sputtering and squirming. When I got things under control, Lin was staring at me with a blank expression.

  “I see this will not be without its challenges.” She burst out in that funny laugh of hers.

  My filet mignon was delicious, but I was having trouble enjoying myself. I couldn’t help noticing the people watching us. Lin was halfway through her meal and on her second glass of wine when she pointed her fork at me.

  “You look so nervous,” she said. “Relax.”

  I leaned toward her. “Everyone’s checking me out,” I whispered. “I feel like the newest panda at the zoo.”

  She nodded to the tables around us. “There are some very important people in this room. They know who I am and they’re figuring out who you must be.”

  I crossed my arms. “Did you bring me here on purpose?”

  She put her knife down and gave me a look I didn’t like. “Yes.” She lowered her voice. “Look, he’d never admit it, but I can tell your grandfather’s scared. Something’s eating away at the company like cancer. The losses are spreading from one department to the next, and with this credit problem …” Her face was dead serious now. “Your grandfather wants to show everyone that with or without him, the Thompson Group has a future.”

  I plunked down my fork. “So I’m the savior of the company?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Not quite, but you are the crown prince. And everyone knows it.”

  I let out a deep sigh. I’d probably never be able to go to school again.

  “You can never forget you’re his grandson.” She signaled to the waiter for more wine. “I’d like to let loose in a nightclub once in a while, go dancing with the girls, but I won’t. Everyone the Chairman does business with knows me, so any bad behavior reflects back on him.” She paused as the waiter refilled her glass. “And you know how he’d take that.”

  I had to ask. “But what about dating and stuff? He can’t control your personal life.”

  She paused, her wine glass suspended halfway toward her lips.

  “It’s hard to know where work ends and personal life begins.” She took the sip. “Like now—is this business or pleasure? People are always watching, so I must adhere to higher standards. And you must, too.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “Do you like being his assistant?”

  She got an odd expression on her face. “He’s the best boss I’ve had—demanding but fair.” She smiled, but it seemed sad. “He’s given me one hell of an opportunity, no matter what his reasons for hiring me might be.”

  I winced. “You heard what he said?”

  She toyed with her food. “I’ve never heard of Tomi, but he named his yacht after her, so she must be pretty special.” She frowned at me. “Have you ever heard of her?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, apparently I’m just like her.” She kept her voice neutral. “I hope he’s enjoying her memory.”

  A frozen silence followed and I stared down at my plate. I wiped my face with the napkin and looked up at her. “I’m sorry, Lin. Grandpa wasn’t himself, all the medication and stuff …”

  Lin’s eyes were shiny, but her jaw muscles were set tight. “Don’t worry, Junya, I’m a big girl.” She emptied her wine glass and the waiter reappeared to refill it, as if that were his only purpose. “And you and I both know I wouldn’t still be here if my body was my only asset.” She took another sip of wine and put the glass down with a thump. “I’m a businesswoman now, the right hand of Edward Thompson. The experience I’ve gained and the contacts I’ve made are a gift that’ll last long after this asset”—she indicated her body—“is gone.”

  “You think he’d fire you if you … lost your looks?”

  Her eyebrows arched. “He’ll move me somewhere else and get another, younger assistant. It’s the way of things. You’ll do the same.”

  “I won’t.”

  Lin raised her eyebrows and, with a shake of her head, went back to her meal. I took a few more bites.

  “May I ask you a personal question, Lin?” As if I hadn’t been grilling her all night.

  “Shoot,” she said, but I sensed apprehension in her voice.

  “When you were my age, what did you think you’d be doing now?”

  She smiled. “I wanted to be a famous model, working in Paris and Milan, traveling to exotic places for photo shoots.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  Her smile disappeared. “It didn’t work out.”

  “But …” But you’re gorgeous.

  “There are thousands of beautiful girls in the world.” She stopped and stared across the restaurant. “But the truth is, I didn’t even try. Everyone said to get my head out of the clouds, and my father expected me to go to law school and help my uncle with the family’s law practice after I graduated.”

  “You have a law degree?”

  She frowned. “A pretty girl can’t have a brain, too?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I’m just thinking … my grandpa said he met you when you were a stewardess.”

  She sighed and gave me a half-smile. “My father won the first battle, I won the second. It wasn’t quite like being a model, but I got to see lots of different places, and that degree is coming in handy now, isn’t it?”

  “So, you’re happy with the choices you made?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  I plunged ahead. “What I mean is, do you like your life? Are you happy?”

  She gave me a hard look. “Do you want to make me feel like crap?”

  I flinched, caught somewhere between embarrassment and frustration. “I’m sorry, Lin.” I held my palms out in surrender. “It’s just …” Deep breath. “I don’t want to be a businessman.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “Then what—”

  “I want to be an architect, design houses and stuff.” I sighed. “Grandpa decided this whole thing without asking me.”

  “But you know so much about his business.” She looked confused. “You’re the perfect choice.”

  All of a sudden I was mad. “I like being with him!” I said. “I don’t care about the business. Besides that bookstore project, everything else is mind-numbing.”

  She looked worried. “It’ll kill him to hear that.”

  “That’s what worries me.”

  The rest of the meal passed in polite silence. After we finished dessert—warm chocolate cake with vanilla custard and ice cream—I excused myself to go to the restroom. On the way, I passed the cellar room and saw Walter Roacks and another man at Grandpa’s usual table. Walter slouched at the table, but the other man sat tall and straight in a stiff blue suit.

  “My employer is losing his patience,” the man said. He had an accent—German, maybe?

  “And my employer is getting suspicious,” Walter said. “This credit freeze isn’t necessary. The Bayview Project is already dead.”

  The man made a sound that might have been a laugh. “You can pick at the bones later—after you deliver.”

  Walter nodded. “Tell Bartholomew he’ll get it and …”

  My ears started ringing, and then my stomach rebelled. I ran to the bathroom and burst through the door with my hand pressed against my mouth.

  I stopped dea
d. It was cold and dank, and the air smelled of mold. Water leaked from the top of the urinal, dripping down and pooling on the cracked floor tiles.

  I walked to the grimy sink, turned on the water and splashed my face with cold water. That made me feel a bit better, but the noises coming from the only toilet stall were threatening to change that.

  I was washing my hands when a man came out of the stall. He was old, frail and stooped, dressed in a dark suit and a thin black tie. He sniffed the air and his eyes caught mine in the cracked mirror.

  He looked like the old man in my dream.

  “You are something special!”

  I couldn’t move. Darkness closed around me and blocked out everything else. I felt my heart speed up as I stared back at him.

  “And you have the gold in your watch.” He stared at me with hungry green eyes—I was sure they’d been brown a minute ago.

  I pressed back against the counter.

  “I … I got it as a present.” I reached to undo the strap. “Here, you can have it back.”

  “Keep it.” Then he chuckled, although it sounded more like a cough. “But you’re very perceptive—it is mine.”

  The watch suddenly felt tight and heavy. I couldn’t get it off my wrist. I could barely breathe.

  “What … do you what?”

  “To see you.”

  “Who are you?”

  His lips parted and a long flat forked tongue flicked out at me.

  I bolted past him, through the door, and into the hallway.

  I collapsed against the opposite wall and stared at the door, shaking so hard I couldn’t get a full breath. Sweat poured out of me and vomit rose in my throat again, but no way was I going back in there. I closed my eyes.

  Then Antonio was beside me, his hand on my arm.

  “James, are you sick?” He lifted me and steered me toward the bathroom. “Come inside and have a seat.” I heard him snap his fingers. “Get some ice water!”

  “I’m fine,” I whispered, but he’d already pushed me through the door and lowered me onto something soft.

  I opened my eyes. This room was clean and luxurious, with granite floors and shining fixtures. I looked up at Antonio.

  “This is way better than the other bathroom.”

  He frowned as he handed me the water. “There is no other bathroom.”

  I waited for Lin outside the restaurant, breathing in the cool evening air while I tried to understand what had happened. Antonio had found me in the hall. Maybe I’d passed out for a second. The old man, the cold bathroom—it was probably just a weird dream. It had to be.

  Lin came outside a few minutes later and looked at me with concern.

  “Are you OK, Junya? You’re as white as snow.”

  I gave her a half-smile. “I’m fine.”

  She glanced back at the restaurant. “I thought I saw Walter Roacks. I only saw his back, so I can’t be sure, but—”

  “Did you recognize who was he with?”

  She hesitated. “He looked familiar … very well-dressed.” She snapped her fingers. “Yes, he’s Mr. Müller, from Gen—”

  “That’s Bartholomew’s assistant! We gotta tell Grandpa!”

  Lin sat on the edge of a concrete planter while the valet stood beside her car, waiting with the car door open.

  “Yes,” she said, “but—”

  “But what? Isn’t having Mr. Müller in town enough? And I know it was Walter. I saw him, too.”

  She touched my arm. “I don’t want Edward upset right now.”

  “He needs to know about this!”

  Lin let out a deep sigh and turned toward the valet. “Can you call a cab? I drank too much and I think I’m seeing things.”

  CHAPTER

  9

  We got back to the hospital just after seven and rode up the elevator in silence. When we entered Grandpa’s room, we stopped dead. Walter Roacks stood over Grandpa’s bed, a stack of papers in one hand, a pen in the other. When he saw us, something changed in his eyes.

  Lin and I exchanged glances.

  “Hey, you two,” Grandpa said in his normal booming voice. “I hoped you’d come back.” He looked and sounded much better. His intravenous lines were out and the monitors were unplugged and silent.

  “Yes, finally.” Walter scowled as he moved away from the bed. “Why weren’t you at the office today?” he asked Lin in a low voice. “I need you there.”

  “The Chairman wanted me here.” She said it loud enough that Grandpa heard her.

  “Yes, I want her here, Walter,” Grandpa said. “Are you complaining that I’m a control freak again?”

  “Our situation’s getting worse,” Walter said. “Without one of you in the office, it’s becoming overwhelming.”

  Grandpa eyed Walter with disappointment. “Look, you know how to fix this. Do what you have to.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Walter turned to go, but Lin blocked his path. “Where did you eat dinner tonight?”

  “Downstairs in the cafeteria,” he said. “Why?”

  Lin’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I just wondered…”

  Walter stared at the top of her head for a long moment and smiled. “The food is terrible. You may need to get used to that again.” Then he turned and walked out, leaving a cold silence in his wake. A moment later, Lin followed him.

  I walked to the bed after the door closed. “When did he get here?”

  Grandpa frowned at me. “Yes, James, I’m feeling great. Thank you for asking.”

  I moved closer. “I don’t want to worry you … but something’s going on.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “When did Mr. Roacks get here?”

  “Not long before you did, no more than five minutes. Why?”

  I glanced toward the door. “Lin and I had dinner at that fancy Italian place you like. We’re both sure we saw Mr. Roacks having dinner with a man Ms. Lin thinks was Mr. Müller.”

  Grandpa’s eyes went wide. “He went begging? I’ll kill that bastard!” he yelled.

  The door burst open a second later. It was John.

  “No!” I grabbed Grandpa’s arm.

  He turned to look at me, surprised.

  “What have you always taught me?” I whispered.

  He stared at me a moment and then nodded. “Right.” He looked up at John. “We’re fine here, John.”

  John scanned the room one more time before backing out. Grandpa waited until the door shut again before letting out a sound like an unhappy grizzly bear would make.

  “You need to get out of here and find out what’s going on with my company.” I grinned.

  He nodded. “We’ll look into it, real close and real quiet.” A slow smile spread across his face, the first real smile I’d seen in a long time. “You see? That’s why I chose you.” He grabbed my hand. “We don’t talk about this with anyone, got it?”

  Lin came in a few minutes later and walked past me toward the bed.

  “I need to get out of here,” Grandpa told her.

  “Why, do you miss me?” She giggled. Grandpa smiled up at her.

  She leaned over the bed and whispered something into Grandpa’s ear. He laughed and put his hand on her bare thigh, well above her knee. Then I watched, eyes wide in astonishment, as Lin kicked off her high heels, climbed onto the hospital bed, and sat on her knees, facing Grandpa, her dress slipping to the tops of her thighs.

  Grandpa grinned at her. “Red or white?”

  “A nice dark cabernet sauvignon, from Chile.” She grinned at him, her hands on his. “But I think I had a bit too much.”

  I didn’t know whether to look away or stare. I felt like a boneheaded, oblivious kid. They were together.

  I sighed. The world kept getting more complicated.

  I sat in the chair by the window and gazed outside. I couldn’t help it—there was too much in my head and it spilled out.

  “Grandpa,” I said loud enough to interrupt them. “When you s
aid the gold in my watch was special, what exactly does that mean?”

  His hand, moving up Lin’s back, froze. He looked past her at me.

  “What?”

  I took a deep breath. “You said Tomi gave you the gold, in the desert … or someplace.”

  He pushed Lin off his lap. “When did I tell you that?”

  “You’d be surprised what comes out of your mouth when you’re medicated,” Lin said, her arms crossed in front of her. “I’m so happy I have a better body than Tomi.”

  Grandpa ran a hand down his face. “Oh, God.”

  I tapped my watch. “There’s something strange about this gold.”

  He blinked a few times, avoiding Lin’s gaze. Finally he turned toward me.

  “Well,” he said slowly, “I guess I’d better finish what I started.” He gave Lin a quick look. “My dad had a map that he showed me a few times when I was a kid, usually when he was drunk. He said he got it from a buddy, a Navajo Indian that he’d fought beside in the South Pacific—my dad saved his life, I think. Anyway, Dad visited him on the reservation several times after the war. The last visit, it turns out the man was dying and he gave Dad a map, written on buckskin. Supposedly, it showed the way to an amazing treasure.” Grandpa shifted himself up a little higher. “My dad took the map—didn’t want to offend his friend—but he wasn’t the type to believe in fairy tales.”

  “But you said—”

  “Wait.” He held up a hand. “My dad died of lung cancer my last year at college. The map was among his personal papers, so the summer after I graduated I borrowed a friend’s truck and drove to the desert. I was broke—I’d worked my butt off getting through college, so I was inclined to hope for buried treasure.” He hesitated for a moment. “I asked around. The local Indians set me on the right track, but they wouldn’t go near the place. Said something about ‘those who come from below’ and if they felt the earth shake, they wouldn’t leave their dwellings until the next day.” Grandpa let out a snort. “Of course, I didn’t believe any of that crap. I was a university graduate. I figured I’d be back in San Francisco in a few days, probably still penniless, enjoying the summer of love.”

 

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