Flashback (1988) (30 page)

In the years that immediately followed, his conflicts with the Judge fell off markedly, due in part to Frank’s mastery of of his new craft, and in larger measure to his athletic accomplishments. Then, with Franks repeated failures prior to Ultramed-Davis, their relationship again became strained.

Now, after four years of relative concord, a clash between the two men—possibly a monumental one—seemed to be in the making. And as always in the past, at the very heart of the matter were the Judges expectations. Franks performance had to be the very best, his conduct above reproach.

The foursome ahead of them finished putting and left the green. The Judge addressed his ball, but after several seconds he checked back down the fairway to ensure that no one was approaching, and stepped away.

“Zachary, you look troubled,” he said. “What is it?”

“I’m not troubled. It’s just that …”

“What?”

Zack shook his head.

“It’s nothing, Judge. Go ahead and hit.”

“You’re worried that Tin taking sides against Frank. Is that

“He
is
your son.”

“And you think that because of that, I should turn my back on the possibility that he might be involved in something unethical, or even dishonest.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What, then?”

Zack stopped himself at the last moment from sharing details of Guy Beaulieu’s legacy, of his encounter with Maureen Banas, and of his mounting distrust of Ultramed. There were still simply too many uncertainties to open those cans of worms before he had had the chance to discuss them with Frank.

“Judge,” he said, carefully choosing his words, “Guy Beaulieu was trying his damnedest to bring down Ultramed. If Frank fell with it, that was no concern of his. I appreciate your commitment to doing what’s right, but—”

“But what?”

Again, Zack hesitated. One slip, one misplaced thought, and the Judge would be off and running on another of his crusades.

In Franks eyes, the two of them would be aligned against him and Ultramed, and any chance of enlisting his help, either in exposing the corporation or in solving the mystery of Toby Nelms, would likely be lost for good.

“Judge, Frank has his quirks and his faults,” he said finally, “just like the rest of us. But considering the expectations and the pressures he’s had to overcome since those days at Sterling High, I think he’s done some things we should both be proud of. At the very least, we should lie going out of our way to give him the benefit of the doubt in this business.”

“So you think I’m being disloyal by wanting to know whether my son and the corporation he works for are making a profit at the expense of my community?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“And you think it’s disloyalty to question whether Frank might have had a role in the destruction of a man’s reputation?”

“Judge, please.”

“I’m sorry, Zachary, but I’ve spent more than thirty years as
a lawyer, half of them as a judge. As far as I’m concerned, doing what is right is far more important than any of that kind of so-called loyalty.”

“I’m not arguing with that. It’s just that from what I can see, this whole business isn’t all that simple. Did you know that if it weren’t for Frank’s using his influence at the hospital, Beaulieu would have been suspended some time ago?’

The Judge looked shaken.

“No, ‘ he said. “I didn’t.”

“Well, it’s true.”

Of course, the story of Frank’s intercession had come from Frank himself, but Zack saw no point in sharing that piece of information, or for that matter, his displeasure with Frank’s behavior on the day of Beaulieu’s death. He was enjoying the chance to play his brothers advocate. He also sensed that in arguing on Frank’s behalf, he was, in some ways, making a case for their father’s recognition of his own accomplishments in life.

The Judge seemed surprised and upset by his stand.

Again, he addressed his ball, although Zack could see from his stance and his bloodless knuckles that his concentration was broken. And suddenly Zack understood: his father had done something, or at least was contemplating doing something, that would not sit well with Frank, and now, all at once, he had doubts.

His swing was rushed and awkward. The ball, never really leaving the ground, skimmed across the fairway and slammed into the recently vacated sand trap. Clayton Iverson barely reacted to the horrible shot.

“You know,” he said as they trudged toward the bunker, “from the day your mother and I first learned she was pregnant with Frank, we began to share visions of greatness for our children. I don’t suppose that makes us unique, but I tell you, son, we spent many an hour by the fire that winter sharing our dreams. We even named Frank, and then you, after presidents—little-known presidents, but ones who did leave their marks on history.”

Inwardly, Zack sighed. This talk was one he had endured many times over the years. Franklin Pierce, the only president bom in New Hampshire, and Zachary Taylor, the much-maligned warrior who, despite four historically undistinguished years in office, established the Department of the Interior, were special favorites of the Judge.

“Believe me, Judge,” Zack said, in what had become his
Standard response to the discussion, “both Frank and I appreciate the values and the drive you instilled in us.”

He paused to chip his approach shot onto the edge of the green and then watched as his father, now totally off his game, took two shots to get out of the sand trap.

By the end of the hole, Zack had cut his deficit to six dollars, and following two ties and a disastrous seven by the Judge on the thirteenth, he had pared it by three dollars more.

“Judge,” he said, motioning to the small refreshment kiosk by the fourteenth tee, “let’s take a break. Anything that could upset you enough to play like this ought to be talked out.”

“I’m not upset,” Clayton Iverson said.

“Okay, you’re not upset. You only went from shooting four over par for the whole front nine, to shooting eight over for the first four holes since you brought up this business about the hospital. Why don’t you have a seat at that little table over there and let me buy you a beer.”

The Judge started to protest, but then relented.

“Maybe I am a
little
upset,” he muttered.

Zack left him at the wrought-iron table and returned with two frosted mugs and two bottles of Lowenbrau.

“So, what’s going on?” Zack asked as he sipped at his beer.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Frank, Judge. I know you helped him get considered for the job with Ultramed. Is that why you’re being hard on him? Because you feel responsible?”

“Zachary, the mess your brother made of that damn electronics company of his wasn’t his first fiasco. He just didn’t have the patience for that kind of business. He was constantly trying to go directly from step one to step twenty. He was lucky the Ultramed opportunity came along when it did. I told him that when he—” Clayton Iverson stopped in mid-sentence.

“When he what, Judge?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“He asked you for a loan, didn’t he?” Zack said.

Suddenly pieces of conversations he had had with his brother over the years began falling into place. Although Frank had never shared the details of his company’s failure, he had made it clear that he felt their father was, at least in part, at fault.

“It was a foolish request. He was already in it up to here. It would have been throwing good money after bad.”

“Frank didn’t see it that way, Judge.”

“Well, I did. I agreed to help him out of the hole he had gotten himself in, but only on the condition that he get rid of that company. The hospital job gave him a chance to get out from underneath that nonsense and to show everyone in town just what he could do.”

To say nothing of bringing him back here, under your thumb
, Zack thought angrily.

“So, he got the job, and he’s done it well. What more could you want from him?”

“I could want him to bring the same values to his position that I bring to mine. That’s what I could want. I could want him to stand up for what’s right.”

Despite the warm afternoon, Zachary felt suddenly cold.

“What’s right?”
I’m the one with Beaulieu’s evidence
, he wanted to shout.
I’m the one who confronted Maureen Banas. How can you be so damned sure of what’s right?
“Dad,” he said, “exactly what have you done?”

“You know, Zachary, I don’t particularly like that tone of yours. You may be a big-shot surgeon, but you’re still my son.”

Zack sensed himself backing away from his father’s glare. He couldn’t remember the last time he had pushed against the man this hard.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Apology accepted. I think that thirty years on the bench more than qualifies me to tell when someone’s handing me a line of bull. There was just too much smoke surrounding Beaulieu’s complaints for there to be no fire. I … I didn’t know until you told me that Frank had intervened on his behalf.”

He hesitated, and then reached into the pocket of his golf bag, withdrew an envelope, and passed it over.

“Here,” he said, “read this.”

Zack was incredulous. Beaulieu’s widow and daughter had given him no indication that they planned to contact the board directly.

“Judge, just when did Mrs. Beaulieu call you?” he asked.

“Well … actually, she didn’t call me.… I called her.”

“And has she contacted other members of the board?”

“I, urn, suggested she might want to do so.”

“Oh, Judge, why?”

“Because ol’ Guy might have been right, that’s why.”

“But Frank said he wasn’t. Why couldn’t you have just given him the benefit of the doubt?”

“I … I felt that if he hadn’t done anything wrong, he didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Of course he does. He’s got to worry about how to explain to the people at Ultramed why his own father would be trying to sabotage their hospital. You don’t even know what kind of so-called evidence Guy had, do you? … Well, do you?”

Clayton Iverson shook his head.

“I didn’t think so. Well, I do, Judge. I know exactly what he had Clothilde Beaulieu gave it all to me at his funeral. And I tell you there isn’t enough proof of wrongdoing even to dent Ultramed. Circumstantial stuff. That’s all he had accumulated. Just a pile of inferential lists, anecdotes, and newspaper clippings.

“I’ll admit that I have some strong reservations about that company, but up till now there’s no hard evidence—not one person that I know of—who was directly hurt by the corporations policies Why couldn’t you have just gone to Frank? Talked to him? That’s what I had planned to do. Did he even see this letter before you sent it?”

The Judge took a long swallow of beer and wiped the foam from his lips with the back of his hand. Then he smiled.

“I haven’t sent it,” he said simply.

“What?”

“The letter is being held by my lawyer in Boston until I decide what to do. I was thinking about having him send it over to Ultramed on Monday. I wanted to talk with you first. Now I’m glad I did.”

Zack felt drained and exhausted—a yo-yo on the string of a master.

“You could have just told me what you wanted in the first place,” he said. “You can’t play with people like that, Judge.”

“Nonsense. I haven’t been playing with anyone. I needed your candid opinion, and I got it. I’m not committed to opposing turning the hospital over to Ultramed for good next week I’m just reluctant to totally give up our leverage. You never know when you’ll wish you had it. The truth is, it would take a hell of a lot more than anything I’ve learned so far to make me turn against Frank and send that letter There, do you feel better?”