Dr. Knox (34 page)

“And I'm supposed simply to believe you? I am not a trusting person, doctor.”

“I can't help you with that.”

Bray nodded slowly. “So you've discussed this with no one? Not with the people at whatever lab you used? Not with anyone at your clinic, or your friends, or your lawyer?”

I shook my head. “No one. But I promise—if you push me, I will. Now talk to me about Elena.”

Bray stretched and smiled minutely. “I find that I
do
believe you, doctor, but I don't think I have anything to say to you about Elena. In fact, I believe I've finished talking altogether. Now it's your turn. You are going to tell me exactly where I can find Alex. What happens to you afterward depends entirely on whether you've told me the truth.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You don't think I'm serious? You don't think I'll give the DNA analysis to…let's say Kyle, Mandy, and your wife, for starters, not to mention the press?”

“On the contrary, I'm certain you'd put those results on the front pages of every paper in the country if you could. If I let you.”

“But you're not going to let me.”

“That is correct, doctor.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“Do you have to ask? Mr. Conti and a half-dozen of his men are one call and perhaps fifteen seconds away.”

I shook my head. “You sure about that?”

Harris Bray sighed, and took a phone from his suit jacket. He tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear, and smiled thinly at me while he waited. The smile faded as his wait grew longer, and finally morphed into a look of sour annoyance. He frowned and tried his call again. And again. He stared down at the phone, as if there was something wrong with it, and then he looked at me.

“Conti's not picking up. Neither will your other men.”

“What the hell—”

I held up a hand. “Wait,” I said, “that's not the worst news.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Tiger took one phone, but he left me with this other one, and I've used it to record our little talk.”

Bray's face reddened and his thin lips parted, but no sound came out.

“And if that's not bad enough…” I said. I went to the old map hung behind his desk. I pointed to a small black disc mounted above the frame. “You're on video too.”

His lips moved noiselessly for a while, and then he pried some words free. “That's not…The video system is off. I made sure of it.”

“Apparently, those controls don't work anymore. Apparently, it's always on.”

“Tiger.”

“Tiger got a better offer, Mr. Bray. I think he was worried about his future.”

Bray was white now. “An offer—from who?”

There was a muted click, and the little door I'd come through swung open again.

“From me, Uncle Harry,” Amanda Danzig said. “Tiger got a better deal from me.”

Harris Bray stood silently, looked from Mandy to me, and swayed.

“Worse and worse,” I said.

Mandy wore black trousers and a black blouse, and she circled the office like a seal—sleek, eager, and sure.

She smoothed her hair. “Long time no see, Dr. Knox,” she said. I nodded, and she looked at Bray.

“Let's make this quick, Uncle Harry. I've got a lot to do, and you're going to need a drink. Or several.”

“What the hell—”

Mandy waved off his words. “You are going to announce your pending retirement. You're going to do it today, and you are going to name me as your successor. You're not going to leave right away—we don't want to spook our customers, or, God forbid, the bankers or the bond market—so the press release will talk about a graceful, gradual, and above all orderly transition plan. I'm thinking a twelve-month period—starting with me becoming COO, then president in four months, CEO four months after that, and chairman at the end. In reality, I'll start running things immediately.”

Harris Bray took a deep breath. Red patches spread on his face and neck. “Amanda…” he said. He shook his head and managed a disbelieving smile. “Your arrogance and entitlement have finally cut you loose from reality. The only change I'm making with immediate effect is to fire you.”

Mandy put her hands on her hips. “Really, Uncle Harry, I'd have thought you'd be able to read the tea leaves better than this. The doctor here is prepared to hand over everything he's got to the press. That's Elena's statement, plus the DNA tests, plus your little video. If you think that you, or the company, can survive all that, then you're the one who's seriously out of touch. As in:
fucking crazy.
”

Bray smiled and shook his head. “Dr. Knox isn't going to give anything to anyone. Call Tiger back in here, and I'll have his audio recording, the DNA tests, and Alex, and the doctor will have”—Bray looked at me and nodded conspiratorially—“whatever he wants.”

Mandy sighed. “Jesus, could you be more heavy-handed? Not to mention tone-deaf. Don't you see that the doctor has his own agenda, and it isn't served by selling out to you? And, in case you haven't noticed, the same holds true for your Praetorian Guard. Tiger knows that if this shit hits the fan it's going to fly all over him, and he knows he can't buy the same legal talent that you can. He sees the writing on the wall, even if you don't.”

Bray took a step toward Mandy and raised his hand, but Mandy didn't budge. Her eyes were hard and defiant; her voice was goading. “Go ahead, take a swing,” she said quietly, “but don't forget to smile for the camera.”

I stepped between them and put a hand on Bray's arm. He jerked it away. “You can't seriously believe I'd turn this company over to you. To
you
?”

“Why not? You've been training me to run the thing for years now. That's what you've said, at any rate, even if you've had a hard time actually letting go of anything. But I'm not waiting anymore.

“Besides, what's your other option—Kyle? For chrissakes, do you think anything you said on that tape was a surprise to me? Or to anyone who knows Kyle? He can't run anything more complicated than his mouth, and that gets him into trouble on a regular basis.”

“I'd burn the business to the ground before giving it to you.”

“Which are exactly your choices. But make no mistake, if you don't take graceful retirement, I'll be out there with the good doctor pouring gasoline all over Bray Consolidated. I'll corroborate anything and everything the doctor says, and add some narrative of my own—maybe about our political contributions and the cash that goes astray when it flows through some of our subsidiaries, and where some of it ends up. You think there'd be an audience for that with the media, or the Democrats on the Hill?”

Harris Bray's shoulders slumped again. “You are—”

“Believe it or not, Uncle Harry, I'm trying to save your ass, and this company too. Because there's no way this doesn't explode on you. It's leaking in too many places, and any attempt you make to cover it up will only get you in deeper. The drapes are burning. Time to find the exit.”

Bray tried for a laugh, but it came out like a strangled bark. He shook his head some more, walked to the sofa, and dropped on it like a sandbag. “You have lost your mind, girl. Completely. If you think the board—”

“Your board doesn't give orders, it takes them. You set it up to be irrelevant, and so it is. The people who aren't irrelevant are our bankers. Short-term financing, long-term financing, debt issuance, M-and-A support—without those guys, we've got serious problems. Fatal problems. Now, what do you suppose they'd say if all this shit went public? You think that the boys at Melton-Peck, for example, would still be happy to do business with you if all of this was front-page news?”

Bray whisked her question away with an angry sweep of his hand. “They want our business—they love it. As long as we generate revenue for them, they don't ask questions.”

Mandy crossed her arms, and her eyes gleamed. “Don't kid yourself, Uncle. Those guys have actual boards and actual shareholders that they actually answer to. Believe me, they'll do more than ask questions.” Bray made another dismissive sweep. Mandy smirked, and took out her phone.

“You disagree?” she said. “Fine—let's take a poll. Let's see, we can call…” She studied her phone. “How about Steven Berger, over at Melton-Peck? He's our senior banker there; his view should be instructive. How about we run this by him?”

“Don't waste your time,” Bray sneered. “That dirty Jew would crawl over broken glass for our fees.”

Mandy smiled, tucked her phone into her pocket, and strode to Bray's big desk. “Very eloquent, Uncle Harry, but I happen to disagree. I really think we should consult Steve. And—surprise—it won't even cost us a phone call.”

Mandy went around Bray's desk, opened the narrow drawer, and tapped a button inside. Bray's ancient map slid silently into a slot in the ceiling. Behind it was a flat-screen monitor, and the head and shoulders of a fair-haired, handsome man, sitting in what I recognized as Mandy's office. The man wore an immaculate pinstriped suit, and his face was pale and taut with barely suppressed rage.

Mandy looked at the screen and smiled sweetly. “Steve, I'm sorry that our lovely lunch had to end like this. And I'm so sorry for my uncle's vile comments. I hope you know those views are his and his alone.”

Berger took a deep breath. “I appreciate that, Amanda, but you're not the one with something to apologize for.”

Mandy nodded gravely. “I hate to put you on the spot, Steve—more on the spot, I suppose—but I wonder if you heard the discussion my uncle and I were having?”

“I wish I hadn't,” Berger said. “But I heard it and saw it, and if you're asking whether I agree with your assessment of things—I'm afraid I do. If a fact pattern of the sort that's been laid out here became public knowledge, and if it included video of the sort I've just been watching, our firm would have no choice but to curtail our business with Bray Consolidated considerably—
quite
considerably—while your uncle was still involved in day-to-day management. And I'm confident that any financial institution comparable to ours would reach the same conclusion.”

“And by
quite considerably
you mean…?”

“Entirely.”

Mandy nodded again. “I appreciate your candor, Steve. Now, if you'll just sit tight for a little while longer, I'll be back up to discuss future plans, and maybe to buy you a few drinks.” Mandy didn't wait for an answer, but pressed a switch in the drawer and watched the map descend.

She turned back to her uncle and smiled tightly. “All those rounds of golf, up in smoke,” she said.

There was a gray sheen of sweat on Bray's forehead, and he wiped his hand across it. “You fucking bitch,” he said softly. “My lawyers will eat your bones.”

“Sure they will, Uncle Harry. While you spend your golden years fighting God knows how many criminal charges, testifying before God knows how many congressional subcommittees, and dealing with a nonstop media feeding frenzy—all while your company goes down in flames—your lawyers will have plenty of time to snack on my bones, and Steve's, and whoever else's. Plenty of time, I'm sure.”

Bray shook his head. “You bitch,” he said. He went to the windows again and paced before them, head down, like a bull looking for something to charge. Finally, he stopped, returned to the sofa, and massaged his temples.

He looked at Mandy. “I'm supposed to turn things over to you, and then what? What am I supposed to do after that?”

Mandy shrugged. “Whatever you want. The foundation, the think tanks—you can run any or all of them, I don't care. Or go on the speaking circuit, or write a book. Or go play golf.”

“And Alex?” Bray asked. “What happens to Alex in your master plan?”

“Alex goes with his mother,” I said, “wherever she wants to go, and with enough money to do whatever they want when they get there, for as long as they want to do it. That's the deal.”

Bray shook his head. “He's my son.”

“Yeah, well, you've got to forget about that, Uncle Harry.”

Bray opened his mouth to speak, but the noise interrupted him. It came from the hall beyond the small doorway—a flat cracking sound—and I jumped when I heard it, and felt a cold rock land in my gut. Mandy didn't recognize it, and neither did Bray, but I knew what it was. I was halfway to the door when Kyle staggered through, gun-shot and bleeding.

His jeans were dark with blood, from the left thigh down, and he grimaced when Elena screwed the gun barrel into the back of his neck. She grabbed Kyle's shirt collar and kicked the back of his leg, and he whimpered and collapsed to his knees before her. Her tee shirt and her hands were smeared with blood, and so were her sweat pants.

She was still for a moment, panting, as if she'd run a long way to get here, and the sound of her breath was all I could hear. Then Elena looked up at Harris Bray, pointed the gun at him, and smiled.

“Uncle Harry,” she said mockingly. “Yeah, you better forget about stealing my kid, Uncle Harry.”

Mandy gasped and Bray grunted, and I took a step toward Kyle. And stopped when Elena leveled the gun at me. The stone in my stomach turned.

“Sorry, doctor. You stay there for now.”

“He's hurt, Elena.”

She nodded. “Oh yeah. He's not good for much now, but he knew where to find his daddy, and how to get us up here without stopping. He was good for that, and just scared enough.”

Kyle's shaking hands were pressed over his wound. There was no spurting, but there was a lot of blood, and I wondered if she'd nicked his femoral artery.

“He's bleeding badly, Elena,” I said.

Another nod, and a little smile. “Oh yeah.”

“He could die if you don't let me look after him.”

She shrugged. “Happens to everybody, right?”

“Let me stop the bleeding,” I said, but Elena shook her head.

“Christ,” Mandy whispered. Bray hauled himself off the sofa, and took a step toward his son.

Elena snarled, and raised the gun. “You think I won't shoot your face, old man? It's not my plan, but it's okay with me.”

“Elena, take it easy,” I said.

“Doctor, you want to leave now, it's okay. You take the girl cousin and go. Otherwise, you keep quiet and stay out of things. Either way, it won't be long.”

Harris Bray looked nearly as bad as his son. He was sweating, and his skin was waxy and beige. He managed to square his shoulders, but his attempt at a fearsome look became something pained and reeling. When he spoke it was to Elena, but he couldn't meet her eyes.

“What do you want? Is it money? If that's what it is, you can have however much you want.”

Elena's laugh was acid. “And if I don't want money—then what? What else you got for me, old man?”

“Just tell me what you want, I'll get it for you.”

“What I want is easy,” Elena said, and she took a step back from Kyle. She reached into a pocket and came out with a cell phone. She tapped at it and held it up and looked at Bray and at the screen. “You just stand there and tell a story to the camera and to your boy—your oldest boy. You tell him about us, about the time we met, and what you did to me that day. You tell it just like it happened, but I warn you—you lie at all, you leave out things or make yourself look better, or say anything not true, I'll kill him right here, right now.”

Harris Bray swallowed hard. “I…I don't know—”

Elena pointed the gun at Kyle's head. “You tell the fucking story, old man!”

Bray stepped backward, stumbled, and steadied himself against his desk. He wiped sweat from his forehead and looked at Kyle, who was looking at the floor. “I…I met her at the Carol Parc Hotel in Bucharest. I had come there to see you and—”

“He doesn't care about this,” Elena said, impatient. “He knows all this. Talk about what happened after—when you sent him away. When you sent everyone away, and I am alone with you. Tell him, old man!”

“We…we talked.”

“Talked!” Elena spit. “Yes, we talked, while I am trying to cover myself in the bed. Tell him what I am saying.”

“You…you talked about Kyle.”

“Tell him what about!”

“You told me that I should…You said that he wasn't cut out for this kind of work, and that I should leave him alone.”

“And what you say after that? What you call me?”

“I…I told you to be quiet. I called you a…whore.”

Elena nodded, and the gun bobbed up and down. “You said,
Shut up, you dirty whore.
You said,
I'm not going to take advice about my son from a dirty whore.
That's what you said. And what did I say after?”

“You…you told me that your advice…You said I should listen to your advice, because you knew Kyle better than I did.”

She nodded and glanced down at Kyle, whose chin was lolling on his chest. She tapped his cheek lightly with the back of her hand. “Hey, wake up. You better listen to your daddy—he's getting to the good part.” She looked at Harris Bray again. “And you said what after that?”

Bray pleaded. “I…I don't remember what I said.”

She steadied the gun on his chest. “You better remember, old man. But, here, I remind you. You said,
You're a dirty whore, and all you want is my money.
You remember now?” Bray nodded slowly. “And you remember what I say after? No? I ask you if every woman who tells you something you don't like to hear is a whore. You remember what you say then?”

Bray leaned against the desk, and I saw his legs shake. I moved toward him, but Elena glared at me and shook her head.

“You remember what you say?” Elena barked.

“I said…I said that…I don't remember.”

“Bullshit! You remember! Now, say it, old man!”

“I…I said that all of the women I knew were whores, one way or another.”

Mandy drew a sharp breath, and Elena laughed. “That's a surprise to you, cousin?” she said. Mandy didn't answer. Elena laughed more. “And then what I say, old man?”

“You said…you said…”

“I said maybe no woman could stand to be in the same room as you unless she was getting paid for it. You remember?” Bray nodded. “And you remember what next?” Bray was silent for a long time, and breath sounds—frightened, rapid, desperate—were all I heard. Then Elena laughed.

“No? You don't remember hitting me? Across the mouth with the back of your hand? You thought it was so funny when I hit my head on the wall and fell out of bed. You laugh when I try to cover myself with the pillow. Remember it?” Bray kept quiet and Elena smacked Kyle in the head with the gun barrel.
“Remember?”

Bray nodded.

Elena's grim smile faded, and her face stiffened. She looked down again at Kyle, whose eyes were clouded with pain, but who was staring at his father. “You paying attention? That's good—because now is the best part.” She looked back to Bray.

“And I know you remember the next part, yes? How could you forget? How could you forget what you did? And if you do, just look at Alex.” Bray shrank beneath her gaze and her loathing. “You remember, old man?” she shouted. He nodded. “Then say it! Say it so everybody hears.”

Bray shook his head, looked to the window, and saw only himself. His head bent, and his voice came from the bottom of the sea. “I…we had…sex.”

“No!”
Elena yelled, and grabbed a handful of Kyle's hair. She jammed the gun into his neck, and my arms and legs quivered with adrenaline.

“No,”
she shouted, “we did
not
have sex. We did
not
fuck. You say what happened really, or I swear, old man, I'll blow his head off.”

“Don't—please!”
Bray cried, and stretched out his arms. Then his voice fell to a whisper. “I…I'll say it. It was…rape. I…raped you.”

“How many times, old man?”

“I…Twice. I raped you twice.”

Bray's knees buckled then, and another silence fell over the room. There was relief in it, but also dread at what would come next. Elena was frozen, Kyle's hair and the gun still in her hands, a look of triumph and something else—sadness, disgust, maybe both—on her face.

She let out a long, exhausted breath and let go of Kyle's hair. He moaned and sank lower. Elena looked at me. “Okay, doctor, you and the cousin go now. You don't need more trouble, and you got to look out for Alex. I know you will—you were good to him, to both of us.”

I shook my head and managed to speak over the pounding in my chest. “Let's go together,” I said. “You got what you came here for, Elena, and so did I. Let me see to Kyle, and then you and I will go. And you'll have everything you need to take care of Alex and yourself forever—new lives for both of you, anywhere you want.” I took a step toward her, but she stepped back.

“I got one more thing for the old man.”

“You can't kill him, Elena.”

“Not him, doctor. I'm going to do to him what he did to me. I'm going to take away his son, and he's going to watch.” Elena took a step back from Kyle, and held the gun in two hands and extended her arms.

“Jesus,” Mandy hissed again, and gripped my wrist. Her hands were cold and damp and shaking. Bray made a sobbing noise.

I twisted free and stepped forward. “What the hell are you doing? After everything you've been through for Alex, you're going to throw it all away?”

Elena glared and her voice was shrill. “This is
for
Alex—for him, for my Nico, for my
bunica
—this is justice for them.”

She took another step back and tightened her grip on the gun. Her arms quivered, and my throat closed as something moved in the darkness behind her. Conti stepped unseen and silent into the hallway and leveled a small black gun at Elena. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I shook my head minutely, but his weapon did not move.

I took a deep breath and forced out the words. “You're full of shit, Elena.”

She squinted at me. “You think I won't do it?”

“I think your justice talk is a load of crap.”

“Then the hell with you, doctor! You know what they did—to my family, to Alex, to
me
—you heard it all. They took everything. Now we're going to get something back.”

“I know what they did, and I know they're evil shits—both of them. But don't tell me killing Kyle is justice for your grandmother and your brother. The dead don't care about justice—that's for the living. And don't say that it's for Alex either—he's too young to give a damn about anything but being with you, Elena. So let's be clear: any justice you get by doing this would be for you. And I'm saying it would be selfish.”

Her arms stiffened, and shook some more, and her voice was ragged. “You don't know—”

“I know Alex wants his mother. It's all that matters to him—what he needs more than anything—and you're the only one who can give it to him. Or take it away. You told me once that there was nothing you wouldn't do for him. Were you lying to me then?”

Elena's face softened, and went from bone white to red. Her eyes were red and wet. “It's…It's too late, doctor—it's already too late. I shot him already.”

“It's not, Elena. The Brays can explain away gunshot wounds—am I right, Mandy?” Mandy nodded vigorously. “We can work things out for you and Alex, as long as you don't shoot Kyle any more and you let me take care of him.”

Elena was quiet for a long while, and sweat rolled down my back and soaked my shirt. I could feel the pulse throbbing in my neck, and I tried not to look at Conti, who was motionless in the foyer. Then Elena pivoted quickly and pointed the gun at Harris Bray, who flinched and shrank back.

“You can't shoot him either,” I said.

Elena looked at me and smiled and let her hands drop down. “I'm not going to shoot him, doctor, but I think I made him piss his pants.” She dropped the gun on the floor, and I knelt by Kyle.