If Leonard believed that, he was kidding himself. In less than a week, disappointed shareholders would begin filing lawsuits against Vaxtek's management and, with AV/AS producing no more than the modest royalties approved by Judge Farnsworth, Warshaw would put the company up for sale for whatever he could get from one of the large multinationals.
“I wouldn't count on it, Lenny.”
Leonard winced. “Why not?” He took the hassock by the fire and tilted the green bottle to his mouth. Seeley took the couch opposite him.
“Your chairman's going to be spending more time talking to his lawyers than running his company.”
“Criminal?”
“That depends on how high the DA thinks he can go. The killer, Baptiste, is going to try to make a deal by implicating Dusollier. If he does, and if Dusollier's got anything on Warshaw, I'd say your boss is in trouble.”
“Joel always lands on his feet.”
“I don't think the DA is going to give him special treatment for being a juvenile.”
A light snapped on in the entryway, and Seeley started.
“The timer,” Leonard said.
“What about you?” Seeley said. “Did you do anything the DA would be interested in?”
“You mean that crack you made about my pushing Pearsall in front of the train? I thought you were kidding.”
“You tell me.”
“Come on, Mike. Sure, I lied about Steinhardt. I knew about the collusion. But I don't go around killing people.”
It wasn't Seeley's best judgment, but he decided to believe his brother.
Leonard drained the beer. “Stay for Thanksgiving. Mom will really be excited to see you.”
“You've got to give up on this, Len. It won't work.”
“What do you mean? This is family.”
“What family?”
“You. Mom. Me. Renata. It's not perfect, the way you always want things, but it's good enough.”
“There never was a family,” Seeley said.
“Whose choice was that?”
“Why is this so important to you?”
Leonard slumped on the hassock, and Seeley caught a glimpse of what his brother would look like as an old man.
Leonard said, “After everything else is gone-your job, your friends-who else is there but your family?”
“Why does there have to be anyone?”
“I suppose that's the difference between us.” For an instant, a spark of acceptance flickered into Leonard's tired eyes, then disappeared. “The story in the Chronicle — that was your idea, wasn't it?”
Seeley had told no one, not even Palmieri, what he had done to sabotage Vaxtek's case, and he was not going to start with his brother. “On Friday the judge is going to approve a settlement agreement that will commit Vaxtek to licensing AV/AS to any company that wants to produce it. It's not why I took the case, but I can't say I'm unhappy about the result.”
“Why did you take the case?”
Seeley started to answer, but the memory of his brother hiding behind their bedroom door stopped him. “Because you asked me to.”
Leonard's spirit recovered. “So family does count for something.”
“I thought I owed you after walking out thirty-two years ago.”
“You count the years, too.”
“Did you know that I had my finger on the trigger? That if it weren't for the safety catch, I would have killed him?” Not Father, or even Lothar. Him. Seeley reached for his rage-at Leonard, at his father-but found nothing there.
“I didn't know that.”
Seeley rose. “I need to go.”
Leonard followed him into the hallway. “You realize,” he said, “leaving was the best thing you ever did for me.”
That jarred Seeley. “How's that?”
“Do you think I liked being your kid brother? You judging me all the time? Always being measured against you? Why do you think I went out for tennis? It was the only sport you didn't play.”
“I was only trying to protect you, Len.”
“Well, if you want a doctor's opinion,” Leonard said, “that's the worst thing you can do to someone. If he messes up, let him fix it for himself.”
Seeley smiled to himself. Leonard hadn't lost his alchemist's ability to turn his own faults magically into someone else's responsibility. Seeley looked around the large glass room. The wind had picked up, rattling tree branches across the skylight. He moved to the brightly lit entry, but Leonard was quicker and blocked the door.
Leonard appraised Seeley with the same clinical eye as when he had examined the bruises from his Chinatown beating. “Did you ever think that maybe it was us who abandoned you?”
When Seeley didn't answer, Leonard said, “No, you only think about things that you can fix.”
“I'm nothing if not practical.”
Leonard grinned. “If you believe that, you're a dreamer. You're the most romantic idealist I'll ever know.”
“Then that's another difference between us.”
“Are we going to see each other again?”
“I don't know,” Seeley said.
“Whatever happened, Mike”-Seeley didn't know if Leonard meant the trial or what happened thirty-two years ago-“it was good to see you. It was good for us to get to know each other again.”
Seeley reached out a hand, as did Leonard, but at the last moment-a boxer's fake-Leonard threw his arm around Seeley's neck and drew him into a clumsy embrace. When Seeley tried to pull back, Leonard's lock on him was that of a wild man. Seeley thought, Was this in fact why I came to California? To reconcile with my brother? He looked about, as if the house might reveal an answer, but the windows, the skylight, the hall mirror all reflected back the same baffling image: a grasping thing; some prehistoric being; a benign beast from a dark fable.
