Ambient (30 page)

In an hour we reached the estate. As we came to the gates,
Jimmy switched on the intercom.

"Approaching, Martin," he said.

"AO."

We parked in front of the house after we drove up. The place
appeared deserted, as it usually did during the week. The chapel
gleamed an unsavory pink in the afternoon light.

"Come in with me," I said, prompting him with my gun. Jimmy
was acting altogether too agreeably, as if by humoring me, allowing me to push him along through a display he cared not to see,
he would, at journey's end, be granted some trivial though satisfying reward. Stepping onto the slate ledge leading to the door of
the Old Man's house, I felt ready for whatever might come, having reached-even as I worried-that state of blessed equanimity
wherein I could accept all that might befall me, knowing that
these actions either worked toward the purpose of my own devising, or else toward a purpose of another sort, about which I would
have no say, over which I should have no control. Even so I
wavered as I lifted my mind to the doorknob, feeling lightheaded
by the effort of exuding such false calm, as if I were a salesman
come to convince the purveyor of my competitor's supplies that
henceforth he should do business solely with me. I touched the
door gently, prepped for the alarm to sound. It creaked open,
unlocked.

"Something's funny," I said.

"So laugh," whispered Jimmy, going ahead of me.

"What about Biff and Barney?" I asked. They usually stayed
within the house during the week.

"Not to fear," he said. "Where'll he be?"

"In the study, I'm sure. Go on."

We edged our way through the long wide hall, toward the study,
in the rear just before the back stairs. The study's door proved
not so yielding.

"Locked," I said, touching it.

Jimmy leaned forward, knocking; the door slid open. He stood
to one side, allowing me entrance. I vizzed the room highlow, seeing at once that Mister Dryden had spoken true; nothing more
scarring than dust marred the room's composure. the TVC was
on, the vol was down. Those three file cabinets, unscratched,
stood as they always had, across from his spotless desk. The Old
Man sat behind his desk, aglow with charm and delight. To his
right sat Avalon.

"Get on in here, O'Malley," he said, motioning that I step
forward. "We've been waitin' for you."

Jimmy, calmly pushing me ahead as if to reassure, gently slid
the gun from my hand as if disarming a child at play. It seemed
pointless not to let him have it. As I came into the room, I stared
at Avalon, at once overwhelmed and disturbed by her presence
here. She'd changed her clothes; she wore a long green tee and
black over-the-knee socks. She held a tumbler filled with a pink
drink, which she sipped through a straw. A tiny paper umbrella
sheltered it from the room's dust. She appeared comfortable.

"I've been expected?" I asked.

"I figured you'd be the one showin'," said the Old Man. "So'd
Avalon."

"Glad I didn't disappoint you."

"If you'd disappointed us, you wouldn't be in much condition
to complain, now would you?" His voice crackled as his good
will burned freely. "You look like you've been through the wringer, O'Malley. What happened to your ears, son? Somebody take
a likin' to 'em and bite 'em off?"

"I lost them," I said. "But I hear perfectly well."

"Hangin' around your sister and her friends too much, if you
ask me. Well, if you don't need 'em, I sure don't." He looked
at me, his eyes atwinkle. "My boy's dead, isn't he?"

"He is," I said. Closing his eyes, he turned toward Avalon,
slapping his knees.

"You won that one, goddamnit," he said to her. "We'll settle
the score later, of course."

"Better believe we will," she said.

"I've always been a bettin' man," he said. "Long as I make
sure all the horses're wearin' my colors."

"You're all right, then?" I asked Avalon-but I didn't mean
it as a question, and she, evidently, meant to give no reply. She
toyed with the umbrella shielding her drink, looking into the patterns in the ice as if she might discern the future. My look she
avoided, as if by our eyes meeting one of us might turn to stone.

"She's fine and dandy," said the Old Man, standing and
stretching his arms over his head. "Aren't you, hon?"

"Sure am," she murmured.

Imagining no possible use I might have for my hands in the
foreseeable future, for gestures either of love or of death, I slipped
them into my pockets as if, unseen, I might forget that they were
mine, and thus feel no regrets for so not using them. "Would
anyone like to tell me what's going on?" I asked.

"You're one helpful man, O'Malley," he laughed. "Damnation. Easy to see why my boy always liked to keep you around."

"I'm very happy. Now would you please-"

"Oh, lighten up, O'Malley. Hell, take a goddamn compliment
for what it is. Strong men never know how to take compliments,
usually. Course I never had any trouble-"

Glancing at the TVC's monitor, he laughed loudly.

"Here goes," he said. "Watch this. There's always some asshole has to give it a try. Look at this now."

A game show was on. In the foreground of the show's gaudy
set, an oversized, transparent cylinder stood; into it, from the
sides and back, ran several clear pipes. The host opened the door
leading into the cylinder, enabling the finalist-a middle-aged
man wearing a light green jumpsuit-to step in.

"He's supposed to grab as much money as he can in one minute," said the Old Man. "Now watch."

The man, driven hyperactive by good fortune, leapt around in
the tube as if attempting to fly off with it. Bells rang; rolls of quarters shot through the pipe as if they were missiles. The first
one he grabbed for snapped his fingers; they hung, dangling from
his hand. For a brief second, an air of puzzlement came over him,
as if he realized something hadn't been explained when he signed
the release. Another roll ricocheted off his right knee, shattering
it. He slumped against the tube's curving wall; one nipped him
between the eyes, felling him. Rolls fired through at higher velocity, targeting him over and over. The host bared his teeth; the
camera cut away, panning over the raucous audience. The camera
returned to the now-opaque cylinder.

"I got a helluva lot to thank you for, O'Malley," laughed the
Old Man, shaking his head, shutting off the monitor with his
remote. "You know that?"

"No," I said, "Why?" I took a seat in a large chair close by.
My ribs ached when I breathed; the support bandage I'd pulled
on while yet in Mister Dryden's office alleviated only the sharpest pains.

"Drink?" he asked, ambling over to his cabinet, extracting a
flagon of intricate form. It was shaped in the guise of E, portraying his late, heavy period, so that the bottle might hold twice as
much. Kissing the decanter in restrained supplication, he unscrewed the head from the torso and poured two tumblers full.

"May as well," I said.

"Ice?" I demurred; if I was going to drink, it should be done
to effect. The Old Man grinned. "My old Daddy always told me
you could push an Irishman into a vat of whiskey and he'd drink
his way out before he drowned. "

"I wouldn't know," I said, taking the glass. I gulped; Jack
Daniels, and it tasted no more terrible than it ever did. "I was
born in New York."

"Thanks again, O'Malley," he said, extending his hand so
that I might clasp it. When I did, he gripped tightly, holding as
if to see when I would give. I didn't; he let go.

"What is this?" I asked. Once again I looked toward Avalon, as if I might yet draw her glance and thus gain, if not strength,
then at least release. She raised her head, inadvertently, I believe,
but even so she kept her guard. Her face, pulled tight, showed
nothing; her eyes appeared as cold stones.

"Sometimes you have to take things subtle, O'Malley. It's not
easy to just run out and do what you want to do. That causes a
lot of talk later on that nobody needs to hear. That was the problem with the boy. Everybody knew how he'd gotten to feel about
me. Sometimes a sickness takes hold of a person and until you
can get a cure to 'em you just got to take certain steps if you want
to make sure nobody else catches it."

"So you'd have cured him by killing him?"

"Hold on there," he said, lifting his hands as if to protect
himself from the splatter of thrown mud. "Did I lay my fingers
on him? You ought to know, I'd think. I know for a fact he was
aimin' after me. Right?"

"He was."

"Uh-huh. Now doesn't it make sense that if somebody's out
to get you it becomes kinda necessary to get them first? That's a
pretty clear rule of thumb, O'Malley. That's where bein' subtle
comes in. Some of the ones that wanta get me are kinda subtle
themselves in an obvious kinda way. Course, most everybody
goes after me thinks they're so damn smart for doin' it they never
see when they do somethin' stupid, and believe me, they always
do somethin' stupid. Now, I didn't get this far bein' stupid myself, don't you know. Once they get rollin' I can always reach
out and hook 'em."

"What if you hadn't had Stella under the desk?" I said, taking
another drink; it didn't taste nearly so bad by the third swallow.
"That would have surprised you, I think."

"Why do you think I had her go under there?" he asked, rocking backforth on his heels as his son had so often done. "You
heard a few details, then. Well, I knew somethin' was up. I'd of
found out one way or the other."

"You'd have found out when it blew."

When he laughed, he looked at me as if happy to have me
home after a long absence. "You never lose your sense of humor, do you? That's a good thing. There's nothin' that gets you
through life better'n a sense of-"

"Mister Dryden had been planning to kill you for four days,"
I said, anxious that he might get on with whatever tricks he wished
to play; hoping that he might be quick about it, doubtful that he
would be. "How long have you been planning to kill him?"

"Oh, 'bout a year or so. He started gettin' kinda problematic,
but I guess I don't have to tell you that. Avalon picked up on it,
all right. Now if he'd just stuck to doin' those reckers like they
was goin' out of style-and I must of told him a million times,
sell 'em, don't do 'em-that would've been one thing. I'd of still
had to take him out of his position 'cause he was really startin'
to lose my money, and toward the end he started schemin' business deals like a junkie tryin' to buy a plane cause he heard that
clouds are made of smack. But no, he had to set out on his own
way, tryin' to get into places he didn't belong, tryin' to find out
things he didn't want to know and knew he didn't want to know.
Got mad at me when I wouldn't let him go on with his shit. So
he decided he was gonna get me. Must have wanted to for years,
down deep, O'Malley. I bided my time to see. Didn't want to
overreact unless I had to. "

"So he was after you and you were after him."

"That's about it."

"I know what his plans are-" Were, I repeated to myself;
were.

"I'd hope so."

"What were yours?"

"Let me freshen that drink for you," he said, pouring another
draft into my glass. "How's that?"

"Fine. You were saying-"

"I wasn't but I will. It was so simple. I hunched that some thing was up soon. When Stella found that blaster under there I
knew right off I was gonna have to move fast-not lettin' him
know, of course. He didn't waste any time layin' the blame on
you two, but I guess that wouldn't surprise you. So I threw him
off the track first by sendin' out a bunch to get ahold of you. Let
him think that was as far as I was takin' it."

"He said you threatened him."

The Old Man paused in his ramblings, as if to consider how
best to phrase the next anecdote. His smile remained so benign
as it had been when I entered.

"Hell, O'Malley, you know lately you could say hello to him
and he'd think it was a threat. In any case I got the Army to send
a few out after you."

"Why the Army?"

"Cause I figured they'd be about as effective catching you as
they were. I knew I'd need you later the way things were shapin'
up, but I knew it wouldn't look right unless I tried to get you.
So-'

"What if they'd caught me, though?"

He laughed. "I'd've worked it out," he said. "But I knew
they wouldn't. So I could put you to good use."

"Without my knowing it."

"Would it have made you happier if you'd known?" he asked.
"Delegatin' your work force is the key to success, you know.
Now I had a hunch you'd get back together with him at some
point and I knew eventually that he'd be back after me. I'd be
kinda more ready for you, next time, at least. But then luck started
comin' into it. Amazin' how well things work out sometime if
you just stand back and let 'em roll."

"And what luck did you have?" I asked, looking at Avalon. I
became aware, I thought, of what had happened as he went on,
but even so I wouldn't say that I hated her for it, then-for hate
you need so much understanding as you do for love, if only two
people are involved, and I could not understand why she'd done as she did. Her face revealed no sign, augured no wisdom; whatever she kept incog within her did not even break the surface.

"Once Avalon snuck out of wherever it was you all were hidin'
she gave Jimmy a call. He came over from Downtown and picked
her up. She was here probably before you even woke up. She
told me what she'd left behind for you to find. Said she knew
you'd be sure to be in touch with him about it. Had an idea of
what sorta mood you'd be in when you saw him."

Jimmy ignored us all; stood looking out one of the unshuttered
windows, gazing out over the grounds.

"She was right. When I heard what she'd done I knew you'd
take care of my problem for me. Saved me all kinds of trouble,
O'Malley. I'm in control again. The company's safe. I'm safe.
You're a helpful man, specially when you don't realize it."