'It's not all that surprising,' Win said.
'How do you figure?'
'None of the Lex family holdings are public. They are fiercely protective of their privacy. Security around them is around-the-clock and the best money can buy. Everyone who works with them must sign confidentiality agreements.'
'Even you?'
'I don't do confidentiality agreements,' Win said. 'No matter how much money is involved.'
'So they never asked you to sign one?'
'They asked. I refused. We parted ways.'
'You gave them up as clients?'
'Yes.'
'Why? I mean, what would have been the big deal? You keep everything confidential anyway.'
'Exactly. Clients hire me not only because of my brilliance in the ways of finance but because I am the very model of discretion.'
'Don't overlook your startling modesty,' Myron added.
'I don't need to sign a contract saying I won't reveal anything. It should be a given. It's the equivalent of signing a document saying that I won't burn down their house.'
Myron nodded. 'Nice analogy,' he said.
'Yes, thank you, but I'm trying to illustrate how far this family will go to maintain their privacy. Until this inheritance feud erupted, the media had no idea how extensive Raymond Lex's holdings were.'
'But come on, Win. This is Raymond Lex's son. You'd know about a son.'
Win pointed to the top of the clipping. 'Notice when the child was born—
'You really buy that?'
'Do you have a better explanation?'
'So where is the kid now? How can the son of one of America's wealthiest families have no paperwork? No credit cards, no driver's license, no IRS filings, no trail at all? Why did he change his name?'
'The last one is easy,' Win said.
'Oh?'
'He's hiding.'
'From?'
'His siblings perhaps,' Win said. 'As I said before, this inheritance battle is rather nasty.'
'That might make sense — and I stress the word 'might'—if he'd been around before. But how can there be no paperwork on him? What is he hiding from? And why on earth would he put his name in the bone marrow registry?'
'Good questions,' Win said.
'Very good,' Esperanza added.
Myron reread the article and looked at his two friends. 'Nice to have a consensus,' he said.
Chapter 13
The mobile phone blew him out of his sleep like a shotgun blast. Myron's hand reached up blindly, his fingers bouncing along the night table until they located the phone.
'Hello?' he croaked.
'Is this Myron Bolitar?'
The voice was a whisper.
'Who is this?' Myron asked.
'You called me.'
Still whispering, the sound like leaves skittering across pavement.
Myron sat upright, his heartbeat picking up a little steam. 'Davis Taylor?'
'Sow the seeds. Keep sowing. And open the shades. Let the truth come in. Let the secrets finally wither in the daylight.'
Ooookay. 'I need your help, Mr. Taylor.'
'Sow the seeds.'
'Yes, of course, we'll sow away.' Myron flicked on the light. 2:17 A.M. He checked the LCD display on the phone. The Caller ID was blocked. Damn. 'But we have to meet.'
'Sow the seeds. It's the only way.'
'I understand, Mr. Taylor. Can we meet?'
'Someone must sow the seeds. And someone must unlock the chains.'
'I'll bring a key. Just tell me where you are.'
'Why do you wish to see me?'
What to say? 'It's a matter of life and death.'
'Whenever you sow the seeds, it's a matter of life and death.'
'You donated blood for a bone marrow drive. You're a match. A young boy will die if you don't help.'
Silence.
'Mr. Taylor?'
'Technology cannot help him. I thought you were one of us.' Still whispering but sad now.
'I am. Or at least I want to be—'
'I'm hanging up now.'
'No, wait—'
'Good-bye.'
'Dennis Lex,' Myron said.
Silence, except for the sound of breathing. Myron wasn't sure if the sound was coming from him or the caller.
'Please,' Myron said. 'I'll do whatever you ask. But we have to meet.'
'Will you remember to sow the seeds?'
Small chunks of ice dropped down his back.
'Yes,' Myron said, 'I'll remember.'
'Good. Then you know what you must do.'
Myron gripped the receiver. 'No,' he said. 'What must I do?'
'The boy,' the voice whispered. 'Say one last goodbye to the boy.'
Chapter 14
Sow the seeds?' Esperanza said. They were in Myron's office. The morning sun striped the floor with Venetian slits, two cutting across Esperanza's face. She didn't seem to mind.
'Right,' Myron said. 'And something about that phrase keeps gnawing at me.'
'It was a Tears for Fears song,' Esperanza said.
' 'Sowing the Seeds of Love.' I remember.'
'Wasn't that the name of the tour too? We saw them at the Meadowlands in, what, 1988?'
'Eighty-nine.'
'What happened to those guys?'
'They broke up,' Myron said.
'Why do they all do that?'
'Got me.'
