By the time Wilson’s legs got the message to get up from the table and leave the private dining room, he was already freefalling into the abyss. He opened the door to the corridor and ran his fingers along the textured wallpaper until he reached the bathroom where he retched repeatedly. Afterwards, he washed his face, rinsed out his mouth and braced himself before returning to the private dining room. Refusing to sit down, Wilson asked Tate for a written copy of his plan to spin off corporate restructuring.
“I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you, Wilson. Are you okay?” Tate said as he stood up.
“Get me your plan by tomorrow. Let Damien Hearst know that neither he nor his clients and partners will be exposed,” Wilson said as he turned and left the dining room.
Walking back to Fielder amp; Company by himself, he felt depleted and numb. Why hadn’t his mother and Carter told him the truth? Did they actually believe they might never have to?
Tate’s story was too compelling and too complete for him to ignore or deny it. One way or another, Wilson had no choice but to cooperate with Wayland Tate. Emily’s life depended on it, and right now that was the only thing that made sense or mattered.
46
Tate — Boston, MA
Tate walked down the long wide corridor from where he and Wilson Fielder had just finished their luncheon meeting to a room where Robert Swatling, John Malouf, and Carter Emerson sat silently, nursing drinks and picking at a platter of cheeses, seasonal fruits, and mixed nuts. Jules Kamin joined them by phone, having listened to the luncheon dialogue along with the others.
Rolling back the burgundy leather executive chair at the head of the imposing walnut conference table, Tate sat down while the others watched and waited for him to speak. “What do you think, Carter?” Tate asked.
“He’s obviously going to need additional explanation and encouragement. But all things considered, I think we can count on his cooperation,” Carter returned.
“You’re not at all concerned?” Tate probed.
“Of course I’m concerned. Emily’s been kidnapped and you just told him that he can’t trust anyone, including his own mother. What choice does he have but to cooperate?” Carter said, sitting back and taking a sip of his drink.
“I don’t trust him,” Kamin said over the speakerphone.
“Neither do I,” Swatling agreed.
“John?” Tate said, leaning over the table and waiting for Malouf’s response.
“Time will tell,” Malouf said finally.
“Let’s give him a few days. If he doesn’t cooperate, we’ll take further action,” Tate concluded.
The meeting was over. As the others left the room, Tate slipped Swatling a folded note:
Swatling read the note and then left the room with Tate. “I’m concerned about Carter,” Swatling whispered as they walked down the corridor.
“He’s proven his loyalty, Bob. That’s why we cancelled the contract on him, remember? I think you’d feel differently if you had been there that night,” Tate said, dismissing Swatling’s comment as elevated anxiety. He recalled that fateful evening in Sun Valley when Carter had saved his life by taking the gun away from Charles. And if that wasn’t enough, Tate mulled, Carter was the one who pulled the trigger. No one would do such a thing for the sake of appearances, no matter what was at stake. Carter had more than proven his loyalty to him and the partnership. If he were going to betray them, he would have already done it. Besides, they all had much more to gain by forgetting about the disclosure and expanding the partnership. If only Charles had come to recognize the utter futility of disclosure.
47
Wilson — Boston, MA
Once back at Fielder amp; Company, Wilson told Anne that he didn’t want to see or talk to anyone except Hap Greene. Then he took the leather wing chair from the head of the gray stone table and pushed it to the wall of windows where he sat down and stared out over the Charles River. Five minutes later, Hap entered the office without knocking. He closed the door behind him and walked to the gray stone table.
Wilson remained adrift in thought, trying to make up his mind about which of Wayland Tate’s revelations were true and which were not.
“Swatling, Malouf, and Emerson were in a room down the hall listening to everything. Someone was patched in by phone, probably Kamin,” Hap finally said. “They met briefly with Tate afterwards, but not long enough for us to break their nullifiers.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Wilson said sarcastically as he turned around.
Hap stepped to the wall of windows and stood next to Wilson. “We need some clarity, Wilson. And we need it soon.”
Wilson didn’t respond, but of course Hap was right.
“For whatever it’s worth,” Hap said, “No amount of intelligence or data mining would have uncovered this scheme. Nothing is what it seems. Manipulation is a way of life for these people. Every word has multiple meanings, every action points to a range of possible outcomes. And everything could change in an instant.”
Wilson held his silence. Manipulation and contingency.
“When are you going to talk to Emerson?” Hap asked.
Wilson didn’t respond.
“The sooner the better, Wilson. Whether it’s Hearst or Tate or someone else in the partnership who’s holding Emily, they won’t give you much time to convince them that you’re cooperating.”
Just then Anne’s voice came over the telephone speaker, “Wilson, I know you didn’t want to be interrupted, but Emily Klein is on line one.”
Wilson moved immediately to the workstation. Before he pushed the button with the blinking red light, he looked back at Hap.
Hap was standing a few feet behind him nodding his head. “We’re ready.”
Emily sat fretfully in the straight-backed wooden chair listening carefully to the sounds around her while she waited for Wilson to come on the line. She was still blindfolded with her hands and legs strapped to the chair, but the tape over her mouth and the heavy earphones had been removed. The same woman who’d taken her to the bathroom and fed her vegetable soup and crackers a few hours earlier was once again holding a phone to her ear and mouth.
“Emily!” Wilson said as he pushed the button.
She could hear the emotion in his voice. “I only have a few seconds. I’m on a seesaw with my emotions but I’m fine. They let me call my parents to tell…”
There was a click on the line and the phone was taken away from her head. Within seconds, the earphones were replaced. The automated voice said, “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”
“No, thank you,” Emily said, shaking her head from side to side, feeling jittery and uncertain. But she’d done everything she could for the moment. With any luck, it would be enough. New tape was placed over her mouth.
“Emily? Emily?” Wilson said into the phone, but he knew she was already gone.
“That’s all for now, Mr. Fielder.” It was the same computerized voice from before. “Remove yourself from our affairs and you’ll have her back.”
The line went dead and Wilson hung up the phone, racking his brain to figure out what she meant by “I’m on
