Dead Wrong (30 page)

“Now”—Nash adjusted the oxygen tube and inhaled deeply—“you should have everything you need. You know the whole story. You know what the threat is, and you know who the players are. But you’re the dealer now, and you can call the game.”

It was something like a last will and testament; in spelling out the priorities, the testator reveals much about himself. Charles Nash laid bare his priorities. They came as no great surprise to his son.

In all probability, Nash had never really cared for Maureen. She was just one of many pleasant diversions. Nor did he give a damn for their offspring, Mary Lou. Even without the bombshell of Maureen’s pregnancy, Nash would have dumped her eventually, whenever the relationship became inconvenient. But he would have tried to make the split far more amicable. He would have had the luxury of time to engineer an unhurried break.

Nash did not care for his wife. But every respectable tycoon should have one. So he got one.

Nash did not care for his son. The son’s purpose in the scheme of life was to preserve, enlarge, and perpetuate Nash Enterprises.

That’s what he cared about. The care and feeding—the survival and prospering—of his company; that was his sole and abiding concern.

And, upon reflection, Ted had to admit that he himself was not far removed motivationally from the old man. This reflection became clear as Ted clutched to his bosom the sheaf of papers his father had just committed to his care.

Ted wanted to save and protect the company every bit as much as did Charles. Perhaps more, if not for the same reason. Nash Enterprises was Charlie’s baby. No matter how many human children he had sired, the only one that truly counted was the company.

For Ted, the company was a most comfortable vehicle through life. And the span of his life was a prime concern. If the company were to perish after he had entered into his eternal reward, that would be unfortunate. That would also be a major problem for those he left behind, principally his wife and children. Those who survived him could make or break what he bequeathed them. But as long as he lived, by God, Nash Enterprises would remain dominant in the development field.

Another major difference between father and son was the matter of an interest beyond the company. For Charles, there was none. For Ted, there was Brenda.

Nash never understood why his son had become so obsessed with another human being. It was, for Nash, a defect in his son’s character. But as long as Teddy could keep the store going, that was enough.

And Nash was positive he had just given his son all the weapons Ted would need for the upcoming battle.

Nash had but one more base to touch. Then he would be able to rest. “Now, Teddy, why don’t you go into the next room with Chan for a while? Give you a chance to look through those files. Maybe you’ll have a question or two … you never know.”

“If it’s all the same with you, Dad, I think it would be a good idea for Father Art and me to leave … that is, if you haven’t got anything else to tell me.”

“I don’t have anything more for you. I got something for the deacon here. I didn’t know he was coming, but now that he’s here, I want to talk to him a bit.”

“But I can stay—”

“No, you can’t. I want to talk to him one on one. If you hadn’t brought him along, I’d’ve sent for him soon anyway. Now you go on. I’ll let Chan know when we’re done. Go on. Git!”

Ted gathered up the papers, packed them back into the portfolio, and left the room.

Nash studied the priest intently. But before he could speak, Father Deutsch said, “You’re going to ask me to do something—a favor, aren’t you?”

Nash almost smiled. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“That’s because you don’t ask for many favors, if any. You give orders. And I’ll bet they’re carried out. But what you’re about to do is ask a favor … right?”

“Well, what makes you so sure?”

“I don’t work for you. I don’t owe you anything. You’re not in a position to order me or even threaten me.”

“What if I was to say that you’re off the payroll of the company? What if I was to take away your office, the secretary, the whole shebang—your TV Mass?”

Cool confidence emanated from the priest’s face; clearly he did not feel threatened. “I am a retired priest of the archdiocese of Detroit in good standing. I did a good job saving my pennies. I’ve got a home in Boca Raton. I was very comfortable down there before Ted asked me to be chaplain here. I could return to Florida. I could return there very easily. So we’re getting back to what you’re about to say to me. It’s what people call a favor. It has to be.”

Nash’s body shook ever so slightly. He might have been chuckling. “Okay, okay, if it’ll help us get on with this, I’ll admit it’s a favor. I’m gonna ask you a favor, okay?”

“Not quite. Before I consider whatever you have in mind, I’ll ask a favor of you.”

“A bargain! That’s nice.” He
was
chuckling—mirthlessly. “You’re a little different than I expected. Most of you guys—you priests—if I ask a favor, you’d do it. You’d just do it. That … what’s his name?… Kelzer—”

“Koesler?”

“Yeah, Koesler. He’d probably just do whatever favor I’d ask.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s pastor of a broken-down church in the middle of this miserable city and I’m very comfortably retired.”

“Well, I like it! You wanna strike a deal. Okay. I can understand that. Whaddya want? You want my immortal soul? You want me to confess? That it?”

“Oh, I’d like you to make your peace with God. I’d even like to be the one who absolves you. But that’s not it. I don’t believe you can sell your soul either to the devil or to God. That’s not the stuff that a bargain can be struck over.”

“Then?”

“Quite simple, really. From now on, for as long as we live, as often as we are in contact with one another, you will address me as ‘Father.’ And you’ll do it with respect.”

“Hey … nobody talks to me—”

“Have it your own way. Maybe I’m demanding something more important than what you have in mind to demand from me. If so, you’d be justified in refusing my request. In that case, I’d say what you want to ask of me can’t be of much importance to you.

“Up to you, Mr. Nash.”

Nash worked his lips silently. Then he nodded. “Okay,
Father
, you got it. Now hear me. I don’t know exactly what Ted’s gonna hafta do to protect the company or himself … or me, for that matter. Depends on what Maureen does. But I do know that thanks to the brainwashing my dear wife gave him, he’s gonna hafta justify whatever he does. Somehow he’s gonna need somebody to tell him God’s not sore about what he does. That’s where you come in—”

“Now, just a minute—”

“No, no, you’re good at it. I’ve watched you. We want to put up a high-rise or a mall and in the process we chase all the damn animals out of the wetlands to hell and gone. In my day, we’d just the hell do it. Nowadays we got the damn environmental freaks climbing all over us.

“On top of that, Teddy’s got a
conscience.
You do very well at manipulating that conscience. You do good work. I’m surprised all the time the way you can pull out a Bible verse that justifies the whole thing. A talent. And …” Nash spread his hands. “… that’s all I’m asking. Just keep up the good work. You know.” He winked.

“That’s impossible!” Deutsch’s dismay was clear. “How can I possibly promise that whatever Ted does will be morally correct?”

“You’re not listening. I didn’t say that what Ted does will always be good. I’m saying, he’ll ask you if it’s okay. Your only job is to justify whatever will protect or help the company.”

“You’ve got it backwards. You’re presuming that everything that aids the company is good while everything that hurts the company is bad. Morality is just the opposite. Morality is an objective norm: It measures what you have the company do and decides whether it’s good or bad.”

“Let me help you,
Father.
Think of all the good things the company does. Helps missionaries. Helps the poor every once in a while. Helps Ted to contribute to good causes that you pinpoint for him. Gives you a very meaningful TV pulpit.

“And—I was saving this as a surprise—we’re gonna set you up for network TV—just like those TV evangelists. Top quality and everything. You’ll have influence all over the nation … who knows, maybe even the world if it catches on like we figure it will.

“Now, how about that, Father! Did we or did we not sweeten the pot?”

Father Deutsch gnawed at a knuckle. “Well, I must admit,” he said finally, “so far it’s worked out that way. Everything Ted has done has been justifiable—though sometimes marginally. I suppose … given all the good Nash Enterprises can do, does do … that with the principle of the double effect—”

“That’s the way I like to hear you talk, Father. Now, one thing more: Ted can’t know what we’ve just talked about. He can’t know about the bargain we just struck.”

“I understand.”

“Because he can’t, he
mustn’t
have any doubts about any advice you give him. If he thought I’d talked to you about this, he could think you maybe were bending the theology a bit. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying you would do such a thing.” The old man’s expression was sardonic. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t asked you to do anything more than you’re already doing. I certainly didn’t ask you to do anything wrong. God almighty: You wouldn’t agree to do anything wrong! I just don’t want Ted to have any doubts. I don’t want him to think you’ve changed your standpoint in the way you advise him. So, not a word about our conversation. You can handle this, can’t you?”

“Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

Nash looked intently into the priest’s eyes, then nodded decisively several times.

Nash pressed the button on the chair. In a few moments, Ted and Chan reentered the room. After a few words of parting, Ted and Deutsch were dismissed.

The two men rode the elevator in silence. They did not speak until they were in Ted’s car and headed toward Deutsch’s residence.

“So, what was that all about? What did Dad have to say to you?”

“Ted, I can’t tell you.”

“What? I demand—wait: He didn’t go to confession, did he?” There was anticipation in his voice.

“Uh … almost. Not quite. What he said clearly falls into the category of a professional secret, which, as you know, is almost as inviolable and sacred as the seal of confession.”

“But surely you can tell me.”

“I can tell no one. All I can say is that your father put a lot of trust and confidence in my advice. I think he may be leaning in the direction of actually confessing to me. I can’t risk ruining that strong possibility. You wouldn’t want me to.”

“Hmmm.” Ted did understand. Unfortunately, he also was not getting his way. If there was anything Ted was very much used to, it was getting his way. The combination of wanting to know what his father had said to the priest in confidence and at the same time understanding that the priest would not—could not—reveal the contents of that conversation set up a mean little dilemma in Ted’s psyche. He could think of no better way to give vent to his conflict than to pout. And this he did in expressive silence all the way home.

C H A P T E R

24

B
RENDA CLOSED THE DOOR QUIETLY
. She always did when she was unsure whether Ted had preceded her to Nebo. He might be dozing. This was especially likely when, as tonight, she arrived in the late evening.

She heard music coming from the living room. It was classical, somebody’s symphony, so it couldn’t be Valeria working late. Valeria’s musical preference tended toward country and western or folk rock. It had to be Ted.

She put away her packages, purse, and coat and entered the living room. Something—an atmosphere, an attitude?—was profoundly different. Ted sat in the recliner facing her. There was no sign of a glass, empty or full. Apparently he had not had his relaxing drink, a ritual he called his “attitude adjustment hour.” He was brooding about something.

“Hi, honey,” she tried tentatively. “Sorry I’m so late. Work piled up.”

He gave no response.

“Is there … is something wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He paused. “Why didn’t you tell me that Mary Lou was my sister? You must have known.”

She stood as if struck. “How did you find out?”

“My father. He told me the whole story this evening.” His eyes bored into hers. “I’m living with someone who grew up with her, and I learn about this from my father! I felt like a fool. Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She sank down onto the couch. “It just happened,” she said after a minute. “That night at Marygrove—the night we first met … I knew who you were, of course. But something happened between us right from the start. There was no opportunity, no opening for, ‘Oh, by the way, I grew up with your sister.’ Maybe there was a time later when I should have told you but … I let it pass. After that, I just let it stay buried.

“I’m sorry your father chose to tell you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry you learned it from him and not me. But … it’s not the end of the world.”

She showed no sign of tears or any emotional stress. That was one of the many characteristics Ted loved about her. But …