The Gatekeeper's Son (10 page)

CHAPTER

9

We got back to the hospital just after seven and rode up the elevator in silence. When we entered Grandpa’s room, we stopped dead. Walter Roacks stood over Grandpa’s bed, a stack of papers in one hand, a pen in the other. When he saw us, something changed in his eyes.

Lin and I exchanged glances.

“Hey, you two,” Grandpa said in his normal booming voice. “I hoped you’d come back.” He looked and sounded much better. His intravenous lines were out and the monitors were unplugged and silent.

“Yes, finally.” Walter scowled as he moved away from the bed. “Why weren’t you at the office today?” he asked Lin in a low voice. “I need you there.”

“The Chairman wanted me here.” She said it loud enough that Grandpa heard her.

“Yes, I want her here, Walter,” Grandpa said. “Are you complaining that I’m a control freak again?”

“Our situation’s getting worse,” Walter said. “Without one of you in the office, it’s becoming overwhelming.”

Grandpa eyed Walter with disappointment. “Look, you know how to fix this. Do what you have to.”

“I’m trying.”

Walter turned to go, but Lin blocked his path. “Where did you eat dinner tonight?”

“Downstairs in the cafeteria,” he said. “Why?”

Lin’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I just wondered…”

Walter stared at the top of her head for a long moment and smiled. “The food is terrible. You may need to get used to that again.” Then he turned and walked out, leaving a cold silence in his wake. A moment later, Lin followed him.

I walked to the bed after the door closed. “When did he get here?”

Grandpa frowned at me. “Yes, James, I’m feeling great. Thank you for asking.”

I moved closer. “I don’t want to worry you … but something’s going on.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“When did Mr. Roacks get here?”

“Not long before you did, no more than five minutes. Why?”

I glanced toward the door. “Lin and I had dinner at that fancy Italian place you like. We’re both sure we saw Mr. Roacks having dinner with a man Ms. Lin thinks was Mr. Müller.”

Grandpa’s eyes went wide. “He went begging? I’ll kill that bastard!” he yelled.

The door burst open a second later. It was John.

“No!” I grabbed Grandpa’s arm.

He turned to look at me, surprised.

“What have you always taught me?” I whispered.

He stared at me a moment and then nodded. “Right.” He looked up at John. “We’re fine here, John.”

John scanned the room one more time before backing out. Grandpa waited until the door shut again before letting out a sound like an unhappy grizzly bear would make.

“You need to get out of here and find out what’s going on with
my
company.” I grinned.

He nodded. “We’ll look into it, real close and real quiet.” A slow smile spread across his face, the first real smile I’d seen in a long time. “You see? That’s why I chose you.” He grabbed my hand. “We don’t talk about this with anyone, got it?”

Lin came in a few minutes later and walked past me toward the bed.

“I need to get out of here,” Grandpa told her.

“Why, do you miss me?” She giggled. Grandpa smiled up at her.

She leaned over the bed and whispered something into Grandpa’s ear. He laughed and put his hand on her bare thigh, well above her knee. Then I watched, eyes wide in astonishment, as Lin kicked off her high heels, climbed onto the hospital bed, and sat on her knees, facing Grandpa, her dress slipping to the tops of her thighs.

Grandpa grinned at her. “Red or white?”

“A nice dark cabernet sauvignon, from Chile.” She grinned at him, her hands on his. “But I think I had a bit too much.”

I didn’t know whether to look away or stare. I felt like a boneheaded, oblivious kid. They were
together
.

I sighed. The world kept getting more complicated.

I sat in the chair by the window and gazed outside. I couldn’t help it—there was too much in my head and it spilled out.

“Grandpa,” I said loud enough to interrupt them. “When you said the gold in my watch was special, what exactly does that mean?”

His hand, moving up Lin’s back, froze. He looked past her at me.

“What?”

I took a deep breath. “You said Tomi gave you the gold, in the desert … or someplace.”

He pushed Lin off his lap. “When did I tell you that?”

“You’d be surprised what comes out of your mouth when you’re medicated,” Lin said, her arms crossed in front of her. “I’m
so
happy I have a better body than
Tomi
.”

Grandpa ran a hand down his face. “Oh, God.”

I tapped my watch. “There’s something strange about this gold.”

He blinked a few times, avoiding Lin’s gaze. Finally he turned toward me.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I guess I’d better finish what I started.” He gave Lin a quick look. “My dad had a map that he showed me a few times when I was a kid, usually when he was drunk. He said he got it from a buddy, a Navajo Indian that he’d fought beside in the South Pacific—my dad saved his life, I think. Anyway, Dad visited him on the reservation several times after the war. The last visit, it turns out the man was dying and he gave Dad a map, written on buckskin. Supposedly, it showed the way to an amazing treasure.” Grandpa shifted himself up a little higher. “My dad took the map—didn’t want to offend his friend—but he wasn’t the type to believe in fairy tales.”

“But you said—”

“Wait.” He held up a hand. “My dad died of lung cancer my last year at college. The map was among his personal papers, so the summer after I graduated I borrowed a friend’s truck and drove to the desert. I was broke—I’d worked my butt off getting through college, so I was inclined to
hope
for buried treasure.” He hesitated for a moment. “I asked around. The local Indians set me on the right track, but they wouldn’t go near the place. Said something about ‘those who come from below’ and if they felt the earth shake, they wouldn’t leave their dwellings until the next day.” Grandpa let out a snort. “Of course, I didn’t believe any of that crap. I was a university graduate. I figured I’d be back in San Francisco in a few days, probably still penniless, enjoying the summer of love.”

Lin was smiling again. “You
were
a hippie!” Then she poked Grandpa’s arm. “So who’s this Tomi girl with the big butt?”

Grandpa looked sheepish. “I’m sorry I said that, I truly am.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m sure the whole thing was a delirious dream, a hallucination caused by sunstroke. There was no girl out there … couldn’t be, not in the middle of the Mojave Desert.”

“It was a good enough dream to name your yacht after her.” Lin sounded sarcastic.

“And what about the gold?” I said. “You didn’t dream that.”

“No, you’re right.” He glanced at me and then back at Lin. “I knew I was in trouble, I wasn’t used to the desert … At some point I passed out, and when I woke up … there was a girl—a woman. She said her name was Tomi. I told her about the map and she led me to the gold.”

I glanced at Lin. I got the feeling Grandpa was leaving a lot of things out.

“Anyway,” he said, “I ended up back at my truck with a stack of these strange gold disks. But once I got home, I didn’t have a clue how to sell them. I couldn’t just walk into a pawnshop. At the time, I was working at an exclusive businessmen’s club, so I started asking around, real casual, pretending I was an aspiring novelist, and I learned two things. First, Geneva was the place to go, especially if it was gold of a questionable source. And time and time again, one man was referred to, but no one would say his name.”

“Bartholomew?”

He shot me a look. “Do you want to tell the story?”

“Sorry.”

He cleared his throat. “There was a man who visited the club once or twice a year. The managers treated him better than they treated anyone else. He had a certain … commanding presence. One night he got incredibly drunk and the manager assigned me to keep him hydrated and off the floor. When he mumbled that he was from Geneva, I started asking questions. He didn’t have much to say at first, but when he sobered up he asked more about the gold. The next day he took me to Geneva to see Bartholomew, all expenses paid.”

“Wow!” Lin said.

“He didn’t want the gold, not at first, but he offered me a
lot
of financing. He became a mentor or sorts and encouraged me to start my Committee.”

“Your investment club?”

“It’s far more than that,” Lin said. “True power comes from the production of intended effects.”

I blinked. “What?”

“We
create
the market, James, and we control it.” I’m sure I heard a hint of pride in Grandpa’s voice. “Everyone else has to ride the currents we create.”

“Isn’t that … a little like cheating?” It sounded a little like
illegal
.

“Anyhow,” he said with a dismissive wave, “Bartholomew never gave up asking about the gold. He became obsessed. I wouldn’t sell it to him and he started putting financial pressure on me, so I paid him back, every cent with interest, and I cut off all ties—and that was the end of it.”

“Until now,” Lin said.

I looked from one to the other. “You had to know that Bartholomew was bad news from the beginning, right?”

Grandpa gazed at me in silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and cold.

“Your dad knows all this, but he still takes my money. I don’t give a damn if you approve of my methods.” Then he forced a smile. “It’s just gold, James, bought and sold. Don’t worry about it.”

And so I sat staring out the window at the darkening sky as Lin snuggled beside Grandpa, trying to calm him. The more I learned, the less sense it made. The only thing I knew for sure was that the days of sandwiches and stories on Saturday afternoons were over.

CHAPTER

10

I sat slouched in the back of Grandpa’s Bentley, half-asleep, gliding toward my house. The driver had the stereo on, something classical and vaguely familiar.

Lin had persuaded me to let Grandpa’s driver take me home, and I’d agreed once I realized how late it was. If I took the bus, I’d have to walk four blocks from the stop to my house. I hated being out alone at night.

Suddenly I sat up and looked out the side window. We’d stopped at a light, and across the intersection I saw three guys under the green awning of a coffee shop, just outside the reach of the street lamps. My face, reflected in the glass window, seemed more real than they did.

They were in their twenties, and the way they were pushing and staggering, I assumed they were drunk. My first reaction was to sink back into my seat. I was safe in the car and they weren’t my problem. But something out there, maybe Okaasan’s stream, demanded my attention.

The car lurched forward after the light turned green. As we passed through the intersection, I saw someone walking alone, almost at the end of the block.

“Stop!”

The driver slammed on the brakes. I flew forward and hit the back of his seat—my seat belt was already off.

“What is it?” he yelled over his shoulder as the car jerked to a stop in front of a narrow yellow building. He looked around, searching for the threat.

“I’m getting out here.”

He spun in his seat. “Close the door! I’m taking you home!”

Our eyes met. My door was open wide now, and I had one foot on the sidewalk. I glanced outside. Across the wide sidewalk, a staircase rose into the yellow building, the steps disappearing into the darkness above. A shudder passed though me.

I heard the driver’s seat belt click open.

“The Chairman’s gonna kick my ass if I don’t get you home,” he said. “Now get back in!”

I shook my head, still staring into the darkness at the top of the stairs. Something awakened deep inside me, something urgent.

“Forget about me!” My voice was firm, clear, commanding. “
You
go home. Now!”

My other foot had barely hit the sidewalk when the car peeled away. I jumped back and tried to close the door but couldn’t. The car door hit a tree and slammed shut. The driver kept going.

I stared down the street until the car disappeared into the distance. Then I turned and ran back the way we’d come.