The Exhibition (An Executive Decision Trilogy) (26 page)

Chapter Thirty

‘This is getting to be a goddamned habit,’ Al Marston said. The big man had just arrived from New York for meetings with Dee and for the opening exhibition at New World Gallery West tomorrow night. ‘Wade, if you’re planning on taking up entertaining, you really ought to see if you could hire Beverly’s decorator back. The place is a dump.’

Wade ignored him, settling into his ratty recliner as though he were about to hold court. Dee, Ellis, Flannery, and Kendra were already there as Marston settled onto the sofa next to Harris with a grunt. ‘What the hell’s going on? How’s Stacie?’

‘Stacie’s fine,’ Wade said. ‘She’s just fine. But the one thing Stacie Emerson is not is broke.’

There was a collective intake of breath, and then the room went silent. ‘It took some serious doing to track down the woman’s resources. Whoever set up this scheme for her was a bloody genius.’

All eyes were on Kendra. She shook her head. ‘She’s K. Ryde’s client, so don’t ask. What you’ve found, you’ve found, but don’t ask.’

Harris exploded. ‘Goddamn it, Kendra, this is Stacie we’re talking about!’

‘I fucking know who we’re talking about, Harris. So let me do my job, for Stacie’s sake.’

Wade only looked from one of them to the other as though they bored him, and then he said, ‘It doesn’t matter who did it. So far I’ve traced down enough liquidity to buy the gallery outright several times over and still take half of Portland out for big party after the exhibition.’

That got everyone’s full attention. He continued, ‘I don’t know what the woman’s playing at, but she sure as hell doesn’t need Jamison’s money. She doesn’t need anything from him.’

‘It doesn’t matter what she needs from him,’ Ellis said. ‘If he harasses Stacie through threatening her friends and through vandalizing her gallery, the odds are in his favor, and he knows it.’

‘But why?’ Flannery asked. ‘Why would he do it? Ellis, do you think it could have something to do with you? I know you say not, but I can’t think of any other reason.’

‘That little lady got the best of him.’ Marston shook a thick finger at everyone. ‘And she did it in front of the whole goddamned world, including the press and his rich associates. Ya’ll know Jamison has an ego bigger that the whole fucking state of Texas. Don’t you see? He can’t let that slide, even if it takes him, say, ten years.’

Wade nodded slowly. ‘That may well be, but that doesn’t explain why all of Stacie’s money has been hidden away over the past five years until it looks like she’s living off her dwindling savings. Jamison had nothing to do with that. Jamison doesn’t know that or he wouldn’t be pumping money into an account Stacie just recently set up, now would he?’

‘All I know for certain,’ Ellis said, ‘is that Ingrid Watson was, for all practical purposes, kidnapped, beaten, and probably raped, and Kenny Hearn is dead because of this man’s obsession with Stacie. Now whether the woman says she’s safe or not, she’s not.’

‘I want her out of there.’ Harris had been listening quietly to all the facts, the knot in his stomach getting tighter and tighter each second and the urge to storm the gallery and take Stacie by force growing stronger and stronger. ‘I don’t care how we have to do it. I don’t care what we have to do. I don’t want that bastard laying another hand on her.’

‘I’m with Harris,’ Flannery said.

‘Hear, hear!’ Marston added. ‘We have to get her out and get her away from that sack of shit.’

‘Then we’re talking kidnapping,’ Kendra said. She raised her hands as though to deflect the multiple glares of the people around her. ‘Stacie Emerson’s not Ingrid Watson. She’ll have to be taken by force. You’ll be taking her away from her gallery, from her home, from her friends.’

‘I don’t care,’ Harris said. ‘I’ll go with her. We can find a way to keep the gallery open, or hell, buy her another one, I just want her safe! I just want her safe.’

‘If we can get her away to someplace safe just for a little while, perhaps we can build a case against Jamison,’ Dee said. ‘I mean, there has to be a way.’

‘We can try,’ Wade responded. ‘But it’ll take time, and we’ve got to deal with Valderia or there’ll be the biggest clear-cut of virgin forest in history.’

‘First we get Stacie to safety,’ Harris said. ‘Then I’ll do whatever you need me to do where Valderia’s concerned.’

‘The exhibition would be the ideal time to take her,’ Flannery said. ‘My people set up one hell of an impressive security system for the gallery, so I know it inside-out. We can get her out right after her closing speech. The festivities’ll go on for a while, and it’ll be easy to get her away. I’ll have a plan ready in a few hours, if you want me to go with it.’

Everyone was staring at Kendra again. She forced a huge sigh and said, ‘Speaking strictly for Kendra Davis, I want her out of there.’

‘We all agree then,’ Ellis said. ‘We need to get her to safety. There’s no doubt.’ He turned his attention to Flannery. ‘Martin, do what you have to and let us know what you need us to do.’

Harris said nothing. His mind was already made up, regardless of anyone else’s consent. He had no intention of leaving Stacie in Jamison’s hands one second longer than necessary. That everyone was now in agreement, that powerful forces were in on the plan, made him feel marginally better. But ultimately, he knew he wouldn’t really feel right until he had Stacie away from Jamison and safe back in his arms.

As she always did on the night of a big exhibition, Stacie had taken extra time to get ready. And if anything, in this case, she had taken even more time. Jamison had wanted to buy her a new gown for the evening, but she already had one of her own choosing and she had bought it with just this event in mind. This was a big night and she would not preside over it looking anything less than perfect.

She was nearly ready when Jamison came into her room without knocking. He never knocked and that took some getting used to. But it was a small thing, really. Not worth her notice when there were so many bigger things pressing. As he stood in the doorway, admiring her in the black sheath, which hugged her curves and caressed her breasts in a shimmer of silk, for a moment she was struck by how stunning he was in his tux and black tie. She never saw him that way any more. After New York, for her, the outside charm and good looks could never again be enough to disguise what lie beneath. She was just settling Al’s pearls into place around her neck when he stepped in close behind her and took them off.

‘Pearls aren’t worthy to rest around your lovely throat, my darling.’ He pulled a padded box from his breast pocket and took from it an elegant choker heavily set with diamonds and rubies. ‘These stones are exquisite, each one hand-chosen for this necklace, each one perfect. And you, my beautiful Stacie, outshine them all.’ She watched in the mirror as he hooked the choker around her throat. ‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s beautiful, Terrance.’ It was all she could do to keep from gritting her teeth. She didn’t want his gifts, she didn’t want his blatant show of ownership. She wanted Al Marston’s string of pearls and what they represented for her. But she said nothing.

‘I’m so glad you like it.’ He didn’t move from behind her, but continued to look her over through the mirror. All the while, he stroked the nape of her neck just below her left earlobe with the back of his index finger. ‘And I have another surprise for you darling.’ He didn’t wait for her to ask. ‘After the exhibition’s over tonight, I have the jet on standby to take us back to New York. I find Portland so provincial and a little too claustrophobic for my taste. And really, Stacie, I think the best way to keep you out of trouble is to remove you from the temptation.’ He offered her a conspiratorial smile. ‘Oh come now, I’m not a fool. I know that as long as you’re here, and Mr. Walker’s here, you’ll be tempted, so you see, I’m doing this as much for his safety as I am to protect what’s mine. Jenny seems competent enough. I’m sure she can run the gallery here for you, and it’ll be in very good hands. So I’ve taken the liberty of having a bag packed for you, darling, and I’ve arranged to have my usual suite at the Plaza. You’ll love it. And once we’re there, we can celebrate your triumph together.’

He continued to gaze at her in the mirror, standing so close that she could feel the press of the dressing table up against her thighs. She made no attempt to move, but allowed him to admire his acquisition. She knew that’s how he saw her.

‘My goodness, you are exquisite,’ He ran a hand up over her belly to cup her breast. His eyelids grew heavy, and his breath caught as he raked her nipple with his thumb. ‘So very exquisite.’ He brushed a kiss against her nape, then another below it, on her shoulder. Then he sighed and smiled up at her in the mirror. ‘Oh, and one more thing, Stacie. When we get to New York and when we’re comfortably ensconced in my suite at the Plaza, I’ll expect my reward. Your misfortunate illness the other night may have bought you a night or two’s reprieve, but after tonight, you’ll have no excuses, nothing stressing you, nothing upsetting your … delicate system. And I promise you this time I will fuck you even if I have to do it while you’re bent over the toilet retching. Now hurry along, sweetheart. The limo’ll be arriving shortly.’

Once he’d left the room, she grabbed Al’s pearls from the dressing table and stuffed them into her bag for luck and for courage. Tonight she would need all she could get of both.

Chapter Thirty-one

‘Damn, Stacie Emerson really knows how to throw a party,’ Kyle Waters said, moving to Harris’ side and lifting his champagne glass in salute. ‘And she knows how to make her exhibitors feel like they own the world, I’ll say that for her.’ He looked back over his shoulder at the woman in a tiny gold cocktail dress he’d just been chatting up and smiled.

‘Have you seen the Japanese exhibit?’ His eyes took in the woman’s backside when she turned and sauntered off toward the main exhibition hall. ‘I felt like I was transported right back into the time of the Shoguns. And from the looks of the Japanese contingent, and Mr. Fukuda’s little speech, I’d say they’re pretty pleased too.’

He nodded his head to a woman in blue who was talking to Dee and Ellis. ‘That’s the reporter from the
New York Times
. Has she spoken to you yet? And over there, the guy who looks like his tux has been too heavily starched, he’s from
Time
Magazine. It’s a regular who’s who of the biggies in here. How the hell does she do it?’

Harris shot a glance at Kendra, who was dressed in red satin, her arm laced through Garrett’s. ‘She has a good PR firm,’ he said. Though he couldn’t see Stacie at the moment, he knew she was in the small lounge speaking to the Japanese reporters. He could see Jamison hovering near the door, making sure Stacie didn’t escape him. The desire to do the man serious bodily harm washed over Harris like a wave of nausea, and he barely heard what Waters was saying about the reporter from
The Oregonian
.

Harris had already spoken to the press, and the evening had been a torture chamber of handshakes and making nicey-nice that he might have otherwise enjoyed had he not been constantly aware of Stacie’s every move and the fact that Jamison never let her out of his sight. She looked breathtakingly beautiful, and he desperately wanted to tell her that, to tell her what an amazing evening she had put together in spite of the horrible situation in which she found herself. But instead he ignored her, waiting on edge for the right moment when she could be snatched away to safety. Ellis’ pilot had the plane on standby to take her to a destination even Harris didn’t yet know, though he would be by her side wherever it was. In a few short hours, she would be safely away from Jamison, and probably mad as hell, but he could live with that. In a few short hours, nothing would delight him more than to throw himself at the mercy of Stacie’s anger. All that mattered was getting her to safety.

As she came out of the small lounge and Jamison latched onto her arm, it hit Harris: he had never seen Stacie truly angry. The women in his life had always been comfortable with anger, and he’d survived more than a few run-ins with both Kendra and Dee’s anger. His stomach clenched almost as hard as his fists when Jamison leaned in and kissed Stacie’s ear. Stacie made no sign one way or another how she felt about his unwanted affection.

Harris glanced down at his watch. Where the hell was Flannery? He was supposed to have been here when they arrived. His name was on the guest list by virtue of his friendship with both Stacie and Ellis. If their plan was to work, they needed Flannery, and if Flannery didn’t show up – well, Harris would take Stacie by force if he had to, but he’d get her away from Jamison one way or another.

Waters had moved back to chatting up the woman in the gold cocktail dress, plying her with expensive champagne he hadn’t paid for, and Stacie was talking to several of the Japanese contingent, when Marston came to his side, looking pale. His face was pinched into a tight frown.

‘Damn it. Where the hell is Flannery?’ he asked. ‘I need him. I need all y’all for a word.’ He nodded his head toward the small lounge, now deserted. Harris could see Ellis, Dee, and Wade heading that way. Kendra kissed Garrett on the cheek and left him to keep an eye on Stacie.

Stacie and Jamison had just disappeared into the Samurai Room with Garrett trailing discreetly behind, so neither of them saw the small party who now gathered around the computer screen as though they were totally fascinated by the film loop, which played for the hundredth time.

‘She’s planning to kill the bastard,’ Marston hissed without preamble, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected Stacie and Jamison to be listening in. ‘I think she may be planning to kill him,’ he repeated.

‘What?’ Harris and Kendra said at the same time.

Not giving anyone else time to comment, Marston continued. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think about it, why I didn’t make the connection early, but that night in New York when he beat her –’ Marston’s face reddened; it was hard to tell if he was embarrassed at having to bring up such a time in Stacie’s life or if he was angry at Jamison. ‘That night, I rode with her in the ambulance. She was sedated and, well, she must have been delirious. She kept saying over and over again that he’d killed Zoe Hanson and that she’d see he paid for it. Mind you, she never said who
he
was. She just kept saying she’d make him pay for what he’d done. Course, I thought she was talking loan sharks or Mafia, something like that. As I said, I never made the connection.’

‘Al, the woman had just been beaten half to death,’ Kendra said. ‘What would you expect her to say? That doesn’t mean she’d actually … That doesn’t mean she’d …’ Her voice drifted off, not sounding too sure any more. ‘And besides, Zoe Hanson’s death was a suicide.’

‘Hell, I know that,’ Marston said. ‘But you can understand why Stacie would blame Jamison for it. And think about it. Think about the set-up here: the fact that Stacie suddenly and very convincingly is pretending to be broke; the fact that she turns to Jamison, a man she has more reason to hate than any of us do. It’s almost like she’s baited the trap for the man with the one thing she knew he couldn’t refuse. Jamison’s a sore loser, we all know that. And he lost Stacie outright in New York when she got the gallery out of debt in such a public way. It was like she thumbed her nose at him in front of the whole damn world. Come on, Ellis, you know the asshole better than I do. Does it make sense to you that he’d let an insult like that stand?’

‘It wasn’t an insult,’ Kendra said. ‘It was a woman getting her life back.’

‘Course it was,’ Marston replied, ‘but to Jamison it was an insult.’ He glanced around again. ‘Where the hell’s Flannery?’

‘Even if what you say’s true –’ Ellis said, and he looked like he might almost believe it ‘– we can’t do anything until after the big speech, and she certainly won’t ruin the event.’

‘She wouldn’t do that,’ Harris said. ‘Stacie would never do such a thing.’

‘I know for a fact she has a gun,’ Al said. ‘She told me so.’

‘Lots of people have guns, Marston, but that doesn’t make them killers,’ Harris responded.

‘Goddamn it!’ Marston’s patience snapped. ‘I’m not saying she’s a killer. I’m saying that’s the only explanation for this whole set-up, the money and all.’

‘The question is –’ Wade spoke for the first time ‘– if that’s what she plans, is she up for the task?’

‘Jesus, Wade,’ Harris said. ‘I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.’

‘No, listen to me. If that’s Stacie’s plan –’ Wade raised a negating hand to the protests. ‘I’m not saying that it is, but if that’s what she has in mind, then if she pulls it off, she’d be looking at a long prison sentence. But if it’s her plan, and she can’t pull it off, then she’s in even more danger. We already know Jamison’s capable of anything, and she’s at his mercy.’

‘This is ridiculous, Marston,’ Kendra said. ‘If she really wanted to kill him, she’s way too smart to do it in so public a place.’

‘She kept saying it would all be over tonight,’ Marston said. ‘I thought she planned to somehow pay him back. She did keep saying she’d pay her debts; she’d pay him back in full. What the hell else could it mean when she doesn’t even owe him anything?’

‘It means we have to get her out of here and away from him,’ Ellis said, ‘with or without Flannery.’ He looked down at his watch. ‘As soon as the closing speech is over, I’ll confront Jamison about Valderia. That’s a valid excuse for me to engage him, and then, Harris, you take Stacie’s arm and walk away with her. Jamison won’t want to make a scene. We just do it. Then anything else is a moot point.’

‘Jamison’s never gonna let it be that simple,’ Kendra said. ‘He has his guards all over the place.’

The sharp tinkling of a bell announced the closing remarks, and Jenny’s voice came over the mic, calling everyone to gather in the main exhibition room.

‘I’ll get her away,’ Harris said, as they all moved toward the main hall. ‘I’ll get her away, no matter what it takes.’ 

By the time they moved into the hall, Jenny was just introducing Stacie, who came to the podium as if she was above it all, as if Jamison standing nearby with his eagle eyes locked on her and his two guards standing at the main entrance had nothing whatsoever to do with her. She was glorious in a dress that looked like the black silk caressed her each time she moved. She wore her hair up, and the only jewelry was a string of pearls. Any goddess would have felt the urge to do homage, and Harris was pretty sure it wasn’t his imagination that the whole room felt that exact sense of awe as she smiled out over them, and silence fell.

‘This gallery, this particular exhibition, has been my dream for a long time,’ she said. ‘Learning the ropes of running a gallery from my dear friend Zoe Hanson back in New York filled me with dreams of having a gallery here in Portland, in my home town, having a gallery that reflected the art and the beauty and the life of the Northwest. Ever since those early days, those lean days, I’ve dreamed of coming home, of finishing what I started in New York.’

Was Harris mistaken or did she just glance down at Jamison?

She continued, ‘But everyone who’s here tonight knows the real reason for this exhibition. It’s my attempt to give something back to the place I love and the home that I may have left for a while, but that never left me. The Vigilant Trust is all about giving something back. It’s about restoring, reclaiming, and returning to nature what we’ve taken, what we’ve destroyed. Tonight, you’ve seen an exhibition of photos that you might not consider art, but I believe that in many ways is art at its most advanced level.

‘Art represents the consciousness of a culture and reflects it back. In many ways, art is the
conscience
of the culture that creates it, a constant reminder of what’s good, what’s bad, what inspires us, what horrifies us, what we are in our darkest moments and what we’re capable of becoming at our very best. That’s what we’ve seen tonight, what we are in our darkest moments.’

All at once, the pictures flashing on the big screens around the room were no longer Harris’ photos nor were they Kyle Waters’. They were the photos Stacie had taken at the Bald Hill clear-cut the day of the storm. ‘When I was a little girl, just moved back to the States with my family, I used to play in this place, watch the stars in this place, pick huckleberries in this place.’

As she continued to speak, the deluging streams, looking bloody in the run-off from the deforested hillside, flashed on the screen. The scars and gouges and the remains of high stumps, looking like specters ready to attack and devour, flashed on the screen. ‘You wouldn’t know it now to look at the devastation. No one would want their child to even see this place, let alone play there.’

The mammal carcass, so badly decomposed even Harris couldn’t tell what it was, flashed on the screen. ‘The cost of reversing such damage, of healing the wounds, is enormous, but not insurmountable.’

The logging road, buried by the mudslide, flashed on the screens. ‘And yet, for 12 years it’s been easier to turn a blind eye than to look at a place that can only cry out to us, that can only convict us.’ This time she most definitely looked at Jamison. ‘A place that can only demand that we don’t look away, that we acknowledge the things we’ve done, that we make restitution.’

Over the ocean-like roar in his ears, Harris could barely hear Stacie’s words, spoken in the silence of a room that held its breath. Knowing that Jamison was responsible for the Bald Hill clear-cut, knowing that he was being publically accused, sent another shot of fear-charged adrenaline through Harris’ body. Dear God, please let this have nothing to do with Marston’s fears. Stacie wouldn’t kill Jamison. She just wouldn’t.

It was only by the tight gripping of Jamison’s fists at his side that Harris could gauge his response to what he clearly had not expected. And that made Harris all the more nervous.

Stacie continued, ‘What we are in the darkest of our cultural consciousness, the most greedy, the most destructive, the most brutal parts of us, must be mirrored back at us so that we can see, so that we can understand and move beyond and heal what we’ve so badly damaged.’

The pictures she had taken of the mountain lions and of Harris photographing them flashed on the screen. ‘These shots are my own reflections on what art can do for us, how it can move us, inspire us, drive us to be more than we are. They were taken up on the Crooked River where I went with Harris Walker to watch him photographing one of the millions of reasons why organizations like the Vigilant Trust are so important. If you’ve not had the chance to speak to him and to Ellison Thorne about their conception of Vigilant Trust and about their exciting plans for the future, please make sure you do. And when you’ve talked to them, I’m sure you’ll be as convinced as I am that there’s never been a more worthy cause, and that you’ll be convinced to dig deep and help create a future where humans are a part of nature rather than the cause for its destruction. Thank you.’

There was a huge round of applause, and the film loop began again, but almost before Stacie could clear the podium, Jamison grabbed her arm and steered her sharply away from her clearly adoring audience. Even before Harris fully realized what had happened, two of Jamison’s thugs ran interference to keep him and Ellis from Stacie. While Jamison hurried her out of the room, Flannery showed up, looking the worse for the wear.

‘My people are on the door,’ he said breathlessly, nodding to where Jamison and Stacie had vanished. ‘They won’t leave without us knowing.’