Amaryllis (33 page)

“There is something you should know,” Calvin said quietly. “Shortly after the conclusion of the Western Islands Action, a reporter came to see me at my office.”

Lucas stopped massaging his neck. He folded both hands on his desk. “Nelson Burlton?”

“Yes.” Calvin's mouth twisted. “Burlton said he had some information about Jackson's death. He wanted to discuss the matter.”

“I hope you threw him out the door.”

Calvin's gaze was unblinking. “I did. Eventually. But I made the mistake of listening to what he had to say first. It was … upsetting.”

“Forget Burlton. I dealt with him in the islands. The man is an opportunist. He'll say or do anything to get a story.”

Calvin got to his feet and went to the window. He stood there looking down at the street below. “He certainly told me a pack of outrageous and insulting falsehoods.”

“I'm not surprised.”

“He claimed that during the period in which he covered the Western Islands Action he heard talk of an affair that had supposedly gone on between Jackson and your wife, Dora.”

“You should know better than to listen to a reporter's lies, Rye. Burlton was just trying to goad you. He hoped you'd become emotional and blurt out some tantalizing tidbit he could have used on the ten o'clock news.”

Calvin's shoulders stiffened. “He also informed me that he had heard rumors that Jackson actively conspired with the pirates. He said that there was a strong possibility that my son had betrayed you not just with Dora but in a business sense as well. Burlton said Jackson may have sold you out in exchange for the promise of becoming the sole owner of Lodestar Exploration.”

“I'm glad you didn't give any credence to Burlton's lies.”

Calvin fell quiet again for a long moment. Then he turned slowly to face Lucas. “I didn't believe a word of what he had to say, of course.”

“Of course not.”

“But I have always wondered if he approached you with the same disgusting gossip.”

“He did. But I reminded him that I was the one who found Jackson's body. And I was the one who searched the records and files of the pirates' leader after it was all over. I know the truth.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose you do.”

“Nelson Burlton hasn't bothered you again since that one visit, has he?”

“No.”

“I didn't think so. When he came to see me, I warned him that if he attempted to go public with his lies, he would answer to me. It all happened three years ago, Calvin. I know Burlton's kind. There's no profit for him now in
resurrecting ancient gossip. He'd only lose ratings if he went on the air with unfounded, three-year-old rumors.”

Calvin watched Lucas intently. “It occurred to me at the time that the only person who had the clout to refute Burlton's accusations was you.”

“You're right. As the president of Lodestar and the one in charge of the defense of the islands, my account of events is unassailable. Burlton could do nothing without my cooperation.”

“And you refused to give it to him?”

“Why would I bother to help him put together a story filled with lies and innuendoes?” Lucas leaned back in his chair and braced his hands on the arms. “There was certainly nothing in it for me. Lodestar didn't need that kind of publicity.”

“You're telling me that you forced Burlton to drop the story because you feared it would be bad for business?”

Lucas smiled humorlessly. “You know me as well as anyone, Rye. Can you think of any other reason why I would have bothered to kill Burlton's story?”

A deep flush suffused Calvin's patrician cheekbones. He held Lucas's gaze for a long moment, but eventually his eyes slid away. He began to pace the office. “You have acknowledged that your actions are grounded in reasons of expediency. Can you blame me for wondering why you chose to rescue Dillon the other night?”

“No. But you'll have to take my word for it that I had no ulterior motive. If Dillon had not chosen to tell you the truth about his situation, you would never have heard it from me. I promised him that I wouldn't discuss the subject with anyone. Whatever else you may think of me, I'm a man of my word.”

Calvin paused to study a photograph of Port LeConner that hung on one wall. “Dillon tells me that he wants to go to work for Lodestar.”

“I know.”

“His mother is opposed to the idea.”

“I'm not surprised.”

“She blames Lodestar for Jackson's death.”

“You mean she blames me.”

Calvin did not respond. He stared at the photo.

“She can't protect Dillon forever,” Lucas said quietly. “He's twenty-three years old. You and I both know he needs a chance to become a man. He can't do that if you and Beatrice keep him tied to home and hearth. I realize you don't want him to work for me, but there are worse alternatives.”

“You refer to that damned huckster who's trying to get him to invest in a fire crystal exploration project?”

“Yes. One way or another, Dillon will seek his own path. He's got spirit and ambition, and he hungers for adventure. Don't kill those qualities, Calvin. He'll resent you for the rest of his life if you try.”

“I don't need your advice on how to rear my son.”

Lucas said nothing.

Calvin put his hand on the knob. “I owe you sixty-five thousand dollars.”

“No. You don't owe me a damn thing. I won't accept your check. Dillon owes me the sixty-five grand. Someday he'll repay it.”

“It's a huge debt for a boy his age.”

“If he's as ambitious as I think he is, he can pay it off in three years working for Lodestar.”

Calvin's jaw tightened. “I tried to make him take money from me to pay you off. He refused.”

“That and the fact that he confessed the truth about the debt should tell you something important about him.”

Calvin drew himself up. “And just what would that be?”

“That you've done a fine job raising him,” Lucas said softly. “It's time to show him that you have some faith in him. Let him become the man he wants to be.”

“My wife is terrified that he'll come to the same end that his brother did. We don't need another dead hero in the family.”

“There are no more pirates in the Western Islands,” Lucas pointed out dryly. “And I can assure you that, as president of Lodestar, I've taken measures to protect the islands and the people who work there.”

Calvin's hand clenched around the knob. “I wish I could be certain that you didn't believe anything Nelson Burlton had to say about Jackson.”

Lucas met Calvin's eyes across the width of the office. “I know the truth about Jackson.”

“So you say. Still, I can't help but wonder if you've got your hooks into Dillon in order to exact revenge for what you may think happened in the islands three years ago.”

“I'll be honest with you, Rye. Even if I believed all of Burlton's innuendoes and lies concerning Jackson, I wouldn't take my revenge out on Dillon.”

Calvin searched his face. “Why not?”

“Dillon is not Jackson. I don't believe in the old adage about making the family pay for the sins of the children.”

“How do I know that?”

Lucas smiled bleakly. “I guess you'll just have to have a little faith in an old friend of the family.”

Shortly before five, Amaryllis left the offices of her last client for the day, a gem-talent who had needed her services in order to ascertain the quality of the stones in a recent shipment.

A long, white limousine with ink-dark windows waited at the curb. She glanced at it curiously as she turned to walk toward the bus stop.

The rear door of the big car opened. Gifford stepped out of the limo. He was dressed in his trademark silver gray suit and red bow tie. He gave Amaryllis a wry, diffident smile.

“You're certainly traveling in style these days, Gifford.” Amaryllis came to a halt on the sidewalk.

“Amaryllis, I have to talk to you.”

“I'm on my way back to the office.”

“I'll give you a lift.” Gifford took a step closer. “Please. This won't take long.”

“I'd rather walk.”

“Wait.” Gifford put out a hand to catch hold of her arm. “I've got a problem. A big one. I need your help.”

She saw the desperate, beseeching urgency in his eyes and knew intuitively that it was genuine. “What's wrong?”

“I'll explain everything in the car. Amaryllis, if I ever
meant anything at all to you, please say you'll at least listen to me.”

“I don't have much time.” Amaryllis reluctantly allowed herself to be drawn toward the sleek limo. “If you promise this won't take long—”

“It won't. I swear it.”

She didn't see the other occupant of the car until she got into the rear seat. By then it was too late.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Lark,” Madison Sheffield said. “I can't tell you how much Osterley and I appreciate your willingness to help the cause.”

“What is going on here?” Amaryllis glowered furiously at Madison Sheffield. “I haven't volunteered for anything. Furthermore—”

She broke off as the limo door closed with a soft, solid
kachunk
. She whirled in the seat to confront Gifford. “Open that door this instant, do you hear me? I do not intend to go anywhere in this vehicle.”

Gifford grimaced but said nothing as the car slithered into motion.

“Did you hear me, Gifford?”

“Please calm down, Ms. Lark.” Madison's voice was soothing. Very soothing. He reclined on the opposite seat, a picture of sober, conservative elegance in his dark suit and discreet tie. “I am only asking for a few minutes of your time. I assure you it's in the interests of our beloved city-state.”

“This is kidnapping, which happens to be illegal in our beloved city-state,” Amaryllis snapped. “Stop this car and open that door at once or I'll notify the police.”

“Take it easy, Amaryllis,” Gifford pleaded. “Give Sheffield a chance to explain, will you?”

“Please, hear me out.” Sheffield's eyes were eloquent with
humble need. “I must have your help. Gifford here has done his best, but it has become obvious that he is out of his league.”

“You burned out another one of his prisms last night, didn't you?” Amaryllis did not wait for a response. She turned back to Gifford. “Just what league are you playing in, Gifford Osterley?”

“I can't supply Sheffield with a prism strong enough to work with the upper ranges of his talent,” Gifford muttered. “You're the only one I know who might be able to handle him. He's a class ten.” Gifford gave Madison an uneasy glance. “Maybe higher.”

“Considerably higher, I suspect,” Amaryllis said. “Gifford, how could you get involved in this situation?”

“I haven't done anything wrong.” Gifford tugged at his red bow tie as if it was too snug around his neck. “It's not a crime to provide focus services for a high-class talent.”

Amaryllis did not bother to conceal her disgust. “You must know how Sheffield is using his talent.”

“I am attempting to use my God-given talent for the good of my city-state, Ms. Lark.” Madison appeared to be deeply hurt by her implied accusations. “I will admit that I have trouble controlling it at times, but that is hardly my fault. I'm sure you are well aware that there are few if any mentors for class-ten-plus talents.”

“How would you know?” Amaryllis retorted. “You've never bothered to get yourself tested.”

“I consider it an invasion of privacy,” Madison said. “The founders would never have submitted to having perfectly natural, normal human abilities tested, certified, and ranked. But that is not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“I need you, Ms. Lark.” Madison's mellifluous voice reverberated in the confines of the big car.

“You want me to help you use your talent to raise campaign funds? Forget it. I do not consider that an ethical use of talent.”

Gifford shot Madison a shuttered glance. “I told you this wasn't going to be easy.”

“I would have been deeply disappointed if it had been.”
Madison's gaze warmed with admiration as he studied Amaryllis. “I have great respect for your reservations and ethical concerns, Ms. Lark. Gifford here tried to dissuade me from seeking your assistance, but the more I heard about you, the more I knew that you were the prism for me.”

Amaryllis glared at Gifford. “Just what did you tell him?”

“That you were a prissy, straitlaced, self-righteous full-spectrum prism who seemed to think it was her job in life to act as a goddamned conscience for everyone else.”

Amaryllis felt the heat rise in her face. “I see.”

“A conscience is precisely what I want, Ms. Lark,” Madison said gently.

Amaryllis blinked. “I beg your pardon?”