had dubbed it the most secretive consulting firm in America. When we finally got around to discussing Wilson, I told him that I’d done some probing and discovered that Wilson exhibited the same tendencies of mental instability as his father. I also said that he had serious problems with authority figures, in general, just as we discussed. I informed him that Wilson was seeing a psychologist about his extreme behavior and growing irrationality.”
“He believed you?” Quinn’s eyes grew wide.
“Let’s just say it’s impossible to disprove a negative,” Tate said, enjoying the drama. “One threatening cloud can convince anyone of an impending storm.”
“You’re sure he’s convinced?”
“Kresge amp; Company’s presentation has been postponed indefinitely,” Tate said with a wily smile. “Jules and I will make some summary comments next week, but I think the project is going to be permanently buried. MacMillan seemed particularly concerned when I informed him that Wilson had been seeing a clinical psychologist. Of course, I didn’t mention that the psychologist was his girlfriend or that they broke up several months ago. By the time I was finished, he began discussing avenues of redress against Kresge amp; Company.”
“Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful,” Quinn said, reaching over and squeezing Tate’s shoulder. The three of them burst into mercenary laughter, tinged with relief in Quinn’s case.
When their laughter died down, Quinn became serious again, wanting more assurances.
“Did he seem at all suspicious or reluctant?”
“Not at all,” Tate said. “He thanked me for doing my homework. You were right. The fact that I had recommended Fielder amp; Company instead of Kresge amp; Company a few months ago made me even more credible.”
For the next hour, the three of them strategized about the timing of Musselman’s next public stock offering and how to put J. B. Musselman on Fortune’s top ten list of most admired companies. To Tate’s pure delight, Quinn was spinning into executive bliss.
After dinner, Tate invited Quinn to the Banff retreat.
“My most memorable day of skiing was at Banff fifteen years ago,” Quinn said before pausing a moment, “Until today, that is.”
“I heard about your figure eights in the powder above the Diavolezza Bowl,” Tate said with raised eyebrows. “Here’s an opportunity to do it all again next week. We can finalize everything, America’s Warehouse grand opening and the Musselman stock offering.”
Quinn was silent for a few moments before he grinned broadly and said, “I’ll be there.”
There was another round of toasts to skiing and lavish corporate retreats before they decided to call it quits for the evening. Tate excused himself from Quinn and Kamin who were sharing a few last minute thoughts on how to reduce Musselman’s ballooning debt in the next stock offering. As soon as Tate had left the dining room, he called Vargas to inform her that their dinner had concluded and that Quinn was feeling rather euphoric. Then he dialed Morita’s cell. “It’s 11:40 and I’m on my way.”
“I’ll be ready and waiting,” Morita said seductively.
Fiery melodies and exotic rhythms from a Spanish guitarist and his band wafted beguilingly through the hotel lobby, as Quinn returned to his room. Still on cloud nine, he decided to stop at the Club Bar and enjoy the music. The crowd was abuzz as he slowly made his way to the bar and ordered a scotch. While surveying the scene around him, he spotted Vargas alone at the end of the bar.
She looked up in feigned surprise when he sat down next to her. Quinn’s suspicions about Vargas’ true intentions were gone. And despite his occasional discomfort with Tate’s aggressiveness and unpredictability, he knew that Tate was the only member of Musselman’s board who could have accomplished what he did today. For that, Quinn was deeply grateful to Tate and his entire organization.
Quinn and Vargas enjoyed the romantic music, the drinks, and each other until the band stopped playing around two. As they said goodnight in the foyer, Vargas leaned in to kiss Quinn on the cheek, the way friends do when saying hello or good-bye. At the last second, Quinn turned slightly and kissed Vargas on the lips.
She responded with a soft and sensual “hmmm.” Then she stroked his neck lightly with her fingers before leaving for her room. They agreed to meet in the lobby at eleven to share a limo to the airport.
14
Wilson — Cambridge, MA
It took three calls for Wilson to track down the former head of covert ops for the CIA and founder of Greene Mursin International. After an exchange of pleasantries and a heads-up from Wilson about the telephone scrambler he was using, Hap Greene assured him that his end of the conversation was also protected. Wilson gave Hap a ten-minute summary of everything that had happened during the past few days. Then he asked, “How long will it take you to clear the decks?”
“Give me a week. I’ll meet you at the Bostonian Club next Thursday for lunch,” Hap said. “But I need to warn you, this could get expensive.”
“Not an issue. I’ll see you Thursday. In the meantime …”
Hap cut him off. “An advance team will arrive tomorrow to perform an initial assessment and begin surveillance. I’m also going to send you a package of surveillance busters. You’ll have them in the morning. And don’t move your father. My guys will keep him protected. I want to assess the entire situation first. Moving your father will send a message that you’re preparing for battle. We need to be ready before we send that message.”
“Just make sure nothing happens to him.”
“My guys will be there by morning. Don’t do anything rash. I can hear the anxiety in your voice. Focus on deciding what you’re going to do with Fielder amp; Company. Let me worry about protecting you and your family. If you need to reach me, call this number. Otherwise, my people will be in contact with you as soon as they arrive.”
When they hung up, Wilson left Brattle House to join his mother and sister who were already at the hospital. There still had been no change in his father’s condition. Dr. Malek was slightly more optimistic after the latest round of tests, but with a disturbing caveat: his father might remain in his present condition for years.
A reclining chair next to his father became Wilson’s bed, after his mother and sister left at midnight. Two police officers and two security guards from Weintraub, Drake, Heinke amp; Redd remained on duty all night, monitoring every medical interaction and procedure. This had greatly reduced Wilson’s lingering concern about not moving his father. At seven o’clock in the morning, as he watched his father breathe, Wilson began a one-sided conversation, expressing a flood of concerns and questions.
“Why didn’t you tell me about what you were doing at Fielder amp; Company? Thanks to your strict instructions, Daniel only gave me bits and pieces. And now, Carter’s doing the same thing. Everyone’s going to be dead before I figure it out. How can I correct your mistakes if I don’t understand them?” Wilson asked, frustrated at the impossibility of a response.
Suddenly, there was movement in his father’s left hand. Wilson squeezed his hand and cried, “Dad, it’s me.” But there was no more movement. He called for Dr. Malek, who’d just arrived at the hospital. He came within minutes. A battery of pupillary reflex tests was performed to determine any changes in his condition. The room quickly filled with nurses, policemen, and hired security personnel. But there was nothing. Only the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his father’s chest, his perilously shallow breathing. Wilson asked Dr. Malek to call him immediately if there was any further sign of movement or consciousness.
“We’ll keep him under close observation for the rest of the day,” Malek said. “This is a good sign though. I think he likes having you here. Did you say anything especially stimulating? Something he would definitely want to address?”
“I had an entire conversation with him about things he needs to address,” Wilson said nervously.
“He may have heard everything. But the slight movement in his hand was all he could do to communicate,” Dr. Malek said.
Wilson stared at the doctor, wondering whether his father had tried to encourage or restrain him.
An hour later, the door to his father’s room opened. One of the security guards informed Wilson that two men
