The Insiders

a seesaw with my emotions.”

Hap was already on a cell phone to his people, listening to the replay. “What’s she trying to tell us with on a seesaw,” Hap asked, looking at Wilson.

“I have no idea,” Wilson said, pushing back the strands of black hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “Is it a name? A place? Is she trying to tell us she’s by the sea? God, I have no idea.”

“We’ll track down and analyze the call to her parents. Hopefully, it will give us more to go on. In the meantime, I suggest you meet with Carter Emerson. We’ll be monitoring everything.”

After Hap left the office, Wilson called Carter.

“I’ve been waiting for your call, Wilson,” Carter said with an emotionless voice after his assistant put Wilson through to his office.

The realist in Wilson had known for some time that Carter was intimately involved, but his innocent wisdom still didn’t fully comprehend why Carter hadn’t confided in him. Carter had been withholding the whole truth from him for reasons only his father and Carter knew. “How could you do this to me and Emily?”

“I know how you must feel.”

“You have no fucking idea how I feel!”

“It’s time to talk,” Carter said.

“So you can tell me more lies?”

“I’m prepared to explain everything. I will be home in an hour. Elizabeth is in Montreal visiting friends. Your man Hap already knows about it. The house will be ours.”

“You sure about that?”

“Hap’s people already sterilized the place and I’m sure they’ll have a van outside. Bring your nullifiers, if you like. See you in an hour.”

Wilson stayed at the office for another thirty minutes, waiting until Hap returned with word on Emily’s phone call to her parents. When Hap entered the office, he set the handheld recorder he was carrying in his hand on the gray stone table. “They must have placed calls tying up the line to make sure she only got the answering service,” Hap said.

“How did you get this?”

“Don’t ask. Emily’s parents remain unaware of her kidnapping,” Hap said. He pushed the play button on the recorder. Emily’s voice seemed enthusiastic and upbeat:

Mom and Dad, it’s me. Sorry I missed you. Just wanted you to know that we’re back. We had a glorious time. When we arrived by sea at the San Marco port and I saw the Campanile d’Oro and the Palazzo Ducale, I started crying because it was so wonderfully beautiful. And where we stayed was only minutes from San Marco. Never fear, I’ll tell you all about it when we visit you next week. I love you.

They listened to it two more times before Wilson said, “That’s not the right name. There’s the Cap-d’ Oro and the Campanile, but no Campanile d’ Oro. She’s definitely trying to tell us something. It’s got to be the Oro.” Wilson looked up at Hap, who was standing on the other side of the table.

“The ‘sea’ and the ‘saw’ are there again. What about the word ‘port’?” Hap said.

“Seesaw and Oro. It’s got to be Teterboro Airport in New Jersey,” Wilson exclaimed as he jumped to his feet.

Hap nodded with a glint of realization. “We have a group of decoding experts working on possible interpretations right now. Teterboro will go to the top of their list, but they’ll want to know if anything else seems strange or out of character, besides the misnaming?”

“She didn’t cry when she saw San Marco Square; she kissed me in front of everybody on the water-taxi and then laughed. And, it’s unlike her to overstate things like wonderfully beautiful.”

“Good. We’ll be working on it while you’re at Carter’s. Another team will be jamming and recording your conversation from the street. They can be inside within ten seconds if you need them. Make sure Emerson knows that.”

Wilson nodded to the one person outside Emily he still trusted, and then he left for Carter’s house.

48

Carter — Cambridge, MA

The stately Victorian home, only a few blocks away from Brattle House, was originally built in the late 1880s for one of Harvard’s presidents. Wilson struck the front door three times using the brass knocker. Carter opened the imposing walnut door and ushered Wilson into his eclectic den where a fire was flickering beneath an ornate Italian mantle. Wilson chose the old brown leather couch while Carter took one of the tapestry wing chairs. Neither one of them said a word. Wilson had no intention of making this easy for Carter, so he waited.

Carter finally broke the silence, “Where would you like to begin, Wilson? With your father? Your mother? Tate? Or me?”

“You.”

“Your father had a penchant for contingency, Wilson.”

“I said you, Carter.”

Carter shifted his position. Wilson could tell he was uncomfortable. “The week before your father was shot, he made two requests of me in the event that something happened to him. First, secure a full and complete disclosure, no matter what, and second, tell you the entire story, once it was over. I promised him I would do both.”

As much as Wilson wanted to, he decided not to express the depth of his disgust or feelings of betrayal, at least not yet. He wanted more answers first. “Did he have reason to believe disclosure was in jeopardy?”

“We both did. Our partners had lost their conviction in our ultimate purpose.”

“So what Tate told me at lunch was a lie? Everything the partnership did was illegal?”

“Of course it was illegal. And unethical. And immoral. We merely rendered it legally defensible. There’s a considerable difference. That’s what the burgeoning complexity of our legal system has allowed. And no, not everything Tate told you was a lie. For the most part, his memory and perceptions are surprisingly consistent with my own. What he kept from you were his motives.”

“You were listening, weren’t you?”

“Along with Malouf, Swatling, and Kamin.”

Wilson worked to keep his frozen exterior from melting, despite Carter’s apparent honesty. “What are their motives?” Wilson asked.

“They want to expand the partnership internationally.”

“No final disclosure?”

“None.”

“And, if I try to stop them, they’ll kill Emily and then me.”

“They will stop at nothing to achieve their ends,” Carter said, shifting his position again.

“Exactly where do you stand in all this?” Wilson asked.

“With your father. Always with your father, Wilson,” he said with a distant look in his eyes. “Even when I have to defer to the other side.”

“What does that mean?” Wilson asked in frustration.

“It means I must finish what your father and I began, without the cooperation or knowledge of our partners.”

Wilson hesitated for a moment then asked the only question that really concerned him at the moment. “Is Damien Hearst the one responsible for shooting my father and kidnapping Emily?”

“No. Damien Hearst was a rogue attorney who disappeared to South America a few months ago.”

“Who then?”

Carter looked at Wilson, his eyes full of what Wilson assumed was sympathy. “Professionals contracted by Wayland Tate.”

“Will I ever see Emily alive again?”