Second Love

by Gould, Judith

  Nothing was in Hunt's name, not even the mansion in Pacific Heights. It too was Althea's—along with the furnishings, the paintings, and the cars.

  Hunt's only real asset was his state senator's salary.

  'I'm sorry,' Raoul Mankiewicz informed her solemnly. 'I call it as I see it.

  The short, bald lawyer, all liver spots and big, black-rimmed spectacles and bespoke tailoring, was a sharp, stringy old bird.

  She heaved a deep sigh, grateful that at least he didn't try to beat around the bush. 'And there's no way around it?' she asked.

  He shook his head. 'Absolutely none. So long as your mother-in-law is alive, you'll get zilch.'

  'And when she dies?'

  'Now you're talking a whole new ballgame. As an only child, your husband stands to inherit the entire kit and caboodle. You ask me, that's the time for you to sue; then your chances of breaking the prenup in a court of law and getting a handsome settlement are anywhere from fair to good.'

  Gloria brooded in silence. Hoping for Althea to drop dead was a lost cause. She thought, That old dragon will outlive us all. Just for spite.

  'However,' he said, 'I did find two rather . . . ah . . . most illuminating points in the prenuptial agreement. Both of which are, happily, very much in your favor.'

  'Oh?' Gloria's ears perked up and she sat a little straighter. 'And what might those be, Mr. Mankiewicz?'

  'First, should your husband demand a divorce, you're entitled to an unspecified financial settlement. One mutually agreed upon by the Winslow attorneys and counsel of your own choosing.'

  'In other words . . . '

  He half smiled. 'That's right. If your husband instigates the proceedings, and his mother wants him to get the divorce badly enough, you've got them by the beytzim.'

  'Mmm . . .' Gloria murmured, 'that does put a different spin on things . . .'

  She stared unseeingly past him, out the wall of windows, at the smoggy world beyond. After a moment, she drew her eyes back in.

  'You said there were two things, Mr. Mankiewicz,' she said softly.

  'That I did.' He folded his liver-spotted hands on the mirrorlike surface of the bureau plat and leaned forward. 'As you know, your husband is an only child; thus, your mother-in-law has only one direct heir. Apparently, she seems obsessed on keeping Winslow Communications intact after her death. So obsessed, in fact, that should your husband predecease you, the sole beneficiary changes.'

  'Of course it would,' she said irritably. 'Dead men can't inherit. Even I know that.' Then she frowned. 'But who would she choose?'

  He answered her question with a question: 'Who do you think, Mrs. Winslow?'

  She shrugged. 'Beats me.'

  His voice was hushed. 'Would you believe—you?'

  She stared at him. Me? she mouthed silently, pointing at herself in disbelief.

  He chuckled. 'And your mother-in-law is worth in excess of two billion dollars.'

  'Two billion!' Gloria stared at him. 'So much!'

  He was silent.

  'I knew she was wealthy, but . . . that wealthy? I had no idea.'

  He held her gaze. 'Well? Do you still wish to file for divorce?'

  Gloria rose from her seat. 'I'll have to think this over very carefully; I see that now,' she said. 'Good-bye, Mr. Mankiewicz. I can't thank you enough. You've put a whole new perspective on things.'

  As the elevator door slid shut, Gloria's gray cells were spinning. Not that any thinking was called for.

  Her mind was already made up. She'd decided to stick it out with Hunt—no matter what.

  Why try for a mere settlement when she could have the whole shebang? The two-billion-dollar jackpot that was Winslow Communications?

  Why indeed.

  So she would have to contend with Hunt and Althea on a daily basis. So what? All it meant was finding a means of escape.

  Thus it began. The magic combo of vodka, Percodan, and Xanax. They provided just what she needed.

  Booze and pills. She'd been on them for two years now.

  They made life bearable. They fuzzed the hard edges and killed the pain.

  As she finished dressing, Gloria heard the intercom in the bedroom click back on. 'Mrs. Winslow,' her butler's disembodied voice announced, 'your car is waiting.'

  Quickly Gloria popped some Percodan and Xanax and washed them down with a last slug of vodka. Then she stuck an emergency flask in her purse, popped a breath mint in her mouth, and sallied forth.

  Lunch with Althea. She wondered what the old buzzard wanted this time.

  Not that it mattered. She'd simply do what she'd done for the past two years. Tune her out.

  10

  Around the world, times and dates vary. Noon in California is four a.m. in southeastern China. But due to the international date line, in China it is also a day later; December 8 in San Francisco is December 9 in Shenzhen.

  And it was on this date, and at that ungodly hour, that the six elders met again. They sat on folding chairs around a circular folding table, sipping tea in the dining room of an otherwise empty, newly completed house.

  By Western standards, it was a modest suburban split-level. But here, in the booming, sky's-the-limit, free economic zone of Shenzhen — gateway to the world's fastest-growing economy and single largest consumer market, where millionaires made their fortunes overnight—such a house carried much 'face,' as well as a hefty price tag.

  Half a million dollars.

  No matter. Demand far outstripped supply, and the entire development had been snapped up by eager buyers before it was even off the drawing board.

  Such is the boomtown mentality and buying frenzy that is Shenzhen.

  Now, each elder's armed bodyguard kept vigil in the nighttime shadows outside. To avoid arousing the suspicion of security patrols, the various Mercedeses in which the elders had arrived were parked in the garages of neighboring houses.

  They had chosen to meet here expressly because the development was still uninhabited. No prying eyes could observe their furtive arrivals and departures. No alert ears could overhear their discussion.

  Honorable Horse spoke English. 'Your tea has the fragrance of a most delicate garden, Honorable Snake,' he said graciously as he put down his tiny china cup.

  The government minister from Beijing gestured negligibly. 'A mere hasty effort undeserving of praise,' he replied humbly, also in English. 'A thousand pardons that I could not tempt the palates of such illustrious company more worthily.'

  Honorable Horse nodded approvingly. 'And I beg a thousand pardons for the temerity of calling this meeting so hastily.' Now that they had refreshed themselves, it was time for serious business to commence. 'Honorable Ox brings news of our endeavor. We must decide upon how to proceed.'

  The five of them looked at the wispy-bearded lung tao from Hong Kong, who inclined his head courteously. 'The gods of fortune attend us,' he said softly. 'The woman's husband was on board an airplane that has crashed.'

  'Bad joss,' Honorable Dragon said automatically.

  The others clucked their tongues and nodded in agreement, carefully hiding their smiles.

  Honorable Ox continued. 'It is believed that he is dead.'

  'Believed? Ayeeeeyah!' Honorable Tiger could not contain his shock. 'Many pardons, but how in the name of the Heavenly Whore is 'believed' supposed to help us?'

  'There was a blizzard at the time,' Honorable Ox explained calmly. 'The aircraft crashed high in the mountains of the state called Colorado. Search parties have been unable to go in quest of possible survivors. Until they find the crash site'—he shrugged—'it will be impossible to verify his death.'

  'Ah.' Honorable Tiger felt himself relax. 'And the motherless whore who arranged the poor fornicator's inauspicious flight?'

  'He is a man known only as the Sicilian, but his talents appear to be formidable.'

  'No one has an inkling as to the Sicilian's identity?'

  'None whatsoever.' Honorable Ox hawked deeply, turned his head, and spat on th
e floor. 'No pictures, nor even descriptions, of him exist. It is said his given name is Carmine, but that could easily be explained by his calling card.'

  'Eeeeeh!' Honorable Tiger was beside himself with excitement. 'He leaves behind clues?'

  The old lung tao nodded. 'He drops a carmine-colored necktie at the scene of each assassination. Sometimes it was used to strangle his victim; more often he deliberately leaves it to taunt the authorities.'

  'Ayyeeyah!' Honorable Snake exclaimed breathlessly. 'By all gods great and small! He truly farts in those turds' faces this way?'

  Honorable Ox nodded. 'He signs his work as proudly as any artist signs a masterpiece.'

  'Carmine . . . the Sicilian . . . ' murmured Honorable Rooster. 'I beg for your indulgence, Illustrious Elder, but if he is so formidable, why is it we have never heard of him, heya?'

  The old lung tao grunted. 'Do you not see? That is his greatest strength! It gives him the ability to move about like a specter. Besides, you know the authorities. I'll bet those eaters of turtle shit are afraid to lend him credence, for fear of appearing outwitted. Also, they must be keeping the matter of the neckties from the public as a means to ferret out false informers.'

  'Then he does have credentials?' asked Honorable Dragon.

  'Indeed he does.' Honorable Ox permitted himself a modest little smile. 'If what is whispered is only half true, his assassinations are legion. The head of the Bundesbank in Germany, the closest advisers of Yassir Arafat, the heads of international corporations on behalf of business rivals. All these can be laid at his door. So long as he is paid in advance, there is no one he will not eliminate.'

  'His services must be expensive,' mused Honorable Snake.

  'Three million dollars U.S. per contract. However, for guaranteed results I do not find that unreasonable.'

  The barrage of questions continued.

  Honorable Rooster: 'But there is no way the barbarian's handiwork can be traced back to us?'

  'Absolutely none. Sonny Fong, my wife's fifth cousin twice removed, lives in New York. It is he who recruited the third party, through whom we contacted the Sicilian this last time.'

  Honorable Dragon: 'Then now is the time to strike? While this airplane crash is fresh, and the woman is at her most vulnerable?'

  'No,' Honorable Ox said softly.

  The others turned to him. As the eldest, he was deemed the wisest, and was thus the most worthy of their respect.

  'From where comes this need for such haste?' He lifted a hand, the pinkie and forefinger raised in caution. 'Think of the master carver who has in his possession a piece of the rarest, finest white jade. If he is a wise man, does he rush to fetch his tools and begin to carve?'

  He shook his head.

  'No. He understands that a priceless stone demands exacting study and forethought. Undue haste has turned many a masterpiece into worthless trinkets peddled to the devil-borne tourists.'

  'Illustrious Ox speaks most wisely,' Honorable Dragon agreed. 'Men of wisdom put thought before action.'

  The old Chiuchow inclined his head graciously, adding, 'we must never forget what Confucius once said: "The cautious seldom err." So too must we wait for the most auspicious moment. Before we put forth an offer, the fornicating whore must first sample a taste of our thunder.'

  'But how, Esteemed Elder?' Honorable Snake inquired. 'Hers is a private corporation. There is no public stock that can be manipulated.'

  The old lung tao sipped his jasmine tea delicately. 'Ah, but think of a duck and its many uses, Honorable Snake.'

  'Ayeeyah! What do you mean, think of a duck, heya? What use does it have other than to be cooked and eaten?'

  'True. But in the hands of a skilled cook it may be prepared a multitude of ways, can it not? Imagine the hundreds of succulent dishes that can be made from a mere lowly duck.'

  'Of course! There is no single way to cook it!' Honorable Snake clapped his hands, then bowed his head humbly. 'A thousand pardons for my ignorance, Illustrious Ox. Your mind truly has the cunning of a fox.'

  'I am honored by your graciousness, but unworthy of such praise. A mighty tree relies upon an abundance of strong roots.'

  They all knew what he meant. United, their strength had multiplied geometrically; divided, each individual's power would diminish accordingly.

  The old lung tao looked around the table. 'Is there one amongst us who could have purchased the Pan Pacific Commonwealth Bank on his own?'

  'Your words have the brightness of a thousand suns,' said Honorable Snake, the government minister from Beijing. 'There is strength to be found in numbers.'

  The old Chiuchow stroked his wispy beard. 'As one of Asia's most respected and venerable institutions,' he continued, 'Pan Pacific is our greatest asset as well as our most potent weapon. It alone made it possible for us to acquire eight percent of the voting stock in AmeriBank.'

  'The gods of fortune have indeed attended us,' murmured Honorable Rooster, the Thai chemist who processed raw opium into heroin.

  Honorable Ox nodded. 'And may they continue to do so.' Again, he took a delicate sip of tea. 'As you know, the woman who stands in our way has suffered much bad joss. Her efforts at rapid expansion in the late eighties have led to what the Westerners call being overleveraged.'

  'A fancy euphemism for incurring debts!' snorted Honorable Dragon, whose underground banking system was the largest in the Golden Triangle. 'Fornicate all euphemisms! Why the round eyes cannot call a debt a debt surely baffles the most patient of the gods!'

  The old lung tao permitted himself a rare smile. 'Aside from the mealy-mouthed whore's debts, she has yet to recover from the so-called Black Friday in the Year of the Ox. Twice already AmeriBank has had to reschedule her loans.'

  'Ayeeyah!' Honorable Snake reached for the pot and poured more tea for his guests. 'Then she is like a tree full of fruit, ripe and ready to be plucked!'

  'Riper and readier than you think!'

  'Eh?' Honorable Snake stopped pouring and blinked.

  'I am pleased to announce that as of yesterday, Pan Pacific's negotiations to purchase her outstanding loans from AmeriBank have been finalized. The notes and their collateral now belong to us. Although she has yet to realize it, the foreign devil is already in our power.'

  'Eeee, then the Golden Country dogmeat is already trapped!' exclaimed Honorable Tiger.

  'Like a fish in a floating basket,' Honorable Ox cackled, 'still in its water, swimming happily, and unaware of the fire heating the wok, heya?'

  'Best of all,' the old lung tao announced quietly, 'only recently she added two hundred and fifty million dollars to her debt. Incurred by trying to turn a pile of dung in the sea into a resort.'

  'Interesting,' Honorable Dragon observed. 'When are her next notes due?'

  'In less than five cycles of the moon. Fifty million dollars on the fifteenth of May.' The old lung tao smiled coldly. 'This time her request for an extension shall be turned down.'

  'And we shall seize her collateral!' marveled Honorable Snake. 'Ayeeyah, the gods have bestowed a thousand summers upon us!' He bowed respectfully to the old lung tao. 'I was wrong, Esteemed Elder. You not only have the cunning of a fox, but the accumulated wisdom of your honorable ancestors.'

  The old lung tao made a casual gesture. 'If so, it is only because when I move among the foreign devils, I keep my eyes and ears open and my mouth firmly shut.'

  'Is it true,' asked Honorable Tiger, the Laotian general who protected the rich poppy fields of his country, 'that the men of the wide eyes are worse chatterboxes than a brothel full of harlots?'

  'Yes, far worse. Which reminds me; I have been as stupid as a water buffalo treading in its own dung. . . .' Honorable Ox's voice trailed off. Then he was silent, staring past the men seated directly across from him. It was a far-seeing stare, and the others knew he was not looking at the wall or the covered windows, but past them, into some distant realm only he could see.

  'What is it, Illustrious Elder?' inquired Honorable Ro
oster with agitation.

  'Yes, honor us with your esteemed wisdom,' urged Honorable Dragon, sitting stiffly immobile and attentive.

  The old lung tao sighed and drew his eyes back in. He took a sip of tea from his refilled, lotus-shaped cup and set it carefully back down. His deceptively gentle, dried-apple face was knit with unease.

  'My gravest concern,' he said slowly, 'is the involvement of the third party, for which I am to blame, may all gods protect me from my own stupidity!'

  'How so?' asked Honorable Rooster, ever the alarmist.

  'If the Sicilian deserves the esteem in which he is held, then he is a strong link in the chain that stretches between him and ourselves, heya?'

  The others listened intently and glanced uneasily at one another.

  'But this third party through whom my wife's fifth cousin twice removed passes along all communication. I asked myself, Who is this barbarian intermediary? More to the point, what do we know of him?'

  Honorable Tiger said, 'You told us he is nothing. A mere greedy, expendable barbarian with a weakness for games of chance. That Sonny Fong recruited him specifically to exploit this weakness, since he could not settle his debts.'

  Honorable Ox grunted. 'The barbarian owed large sums to the long-nosed Sicilians, as well as to our own people in Chinatown. Since Sonny Fong paid those debts, and therefore holds the man's markers, I was certain he could easily be controlled.'

  He looked around at the inscrutable faces, expecting reproval, but none was forthcoming.

  The old lung tao sipped some more tea. 'According to Sonny Fong, the kwai lo has not only made the connection between Carmine and the airplane crash, but is actually demanding an increase in pay!'

  'Ayeeyah!' Honorable Horse stared at him. 'May the blackmailing thief's secret sack rot and shrivel and fall off!'

  'And mine also!' the lung tao spat angrily. 'I believed he was as clay in our hands, forgetting the intrinsic properties of that substance!'

  'But how so?' inquired Honorable Snake. 'Clay can, after all, be molded and shaped and formed by one's own hand—'

  'Fang-pi!' the old man swore, his flinty eyes narrowing. 'You see? You have fallen into the self-same dung-filled trap! By all gods great and small, clay breaks!'