Pieces of the Puzzle

by Robert Stanek

  Scott laid the chopsticks across the top of his rice bowl. He was eating to be polite, not because he was hungry. His stomach was still bunched in knots, every swallow was forced, yet he made certain to maintain his composure to allay Mr. Wellmen’s expressed displeasure. He looked up at the array of mammoth video screens mounted on the wall directly opposite him—monitors that currently showed a man sweeping a floor. “And you do this for pleasure?”

  Mr. Kim snapped his fingers, signaling to the suits guarding the doors. Wellmen waved them back to their positions. “Put a man in a room, tell him to sweep it, make sure he believes no one is watching him, and see what he does. A shame that I can only relax like this on the weekends.”

  Scott chose not to respond. He had been on the ranch for two miserable hours, waiting in a dark room to be herded into the dining hall, and then made to feel about as tall as a gnat pissing on Wellmen’s oriental rug. If he had a gun, he would end this right now.

  Wellmen said, “I don’t suppose you would be interested in a position as Head of Household?”

  Scott looked uneasy.

  Wellmen chuckled, then said to Mr. Kim, “Dismiss him, send in the next applicant.” Mr. Kim stood stiffly and started to leave. Wellmen turned back to Scott. “At eighty-five thousand a year, they think they can be uppity, so I hand them a broom and tell them to sweep. Sometimes their reactions are quite comical—”“Did you call me here to talk about your household staff?”

  Mr. Kim lunged across the table and would’ve backhanded Scott if Wellmen hadn’t suggested he shouldn’t.

  Mr. Kim doubled over at the waist, his back nearly parallel to the floor. “Forgive my rudeness.”

  Wellmen nodded approval. Mr. Kim rose, waited a moment, then continued out of the room. There was a period of awkward silence. Wellmen said, “He is overzealous at times but his intentions are true.”

  Scott pushed his rice bowl aside. The ornate clock on the opposite wall said it was 3:30 p.m. He was pretty sure he was on Wellmen’s Colorado ranch. Denver time was an hour behind Dallas time; the flight to Honolulu had left long ago. He glared at Wellmen. “Exactly why am I here? Where is Helen?”

  Wellmen smiled politely and dabbed a gold-embroidered silk napkin to the corners of his mouth. The napkin was identical to the one Scott held beneath the table, mashed in a clenched fist. Only the certainty that one of the four suits that guarded the double doors at either end of the dining hall would kill him before he reached Wellmen kept Scott in the oaken chair.

  “You can tell a great deal about a man by watching him, Mr.

  Evers. You are a man who takes for granted a great many things. You insult me at my own table, pretend to be calm and focused, yet the flittering of your eyes tells me of a thousand ways of hatred. Once only royalty could eat white rice and yet you cast aside the base of life without thought.”

  “Are you American or Chinese? You make me sick, do you know that? You son of a bitch.”

  Wellmen seemed delighted at the release of Scott’s temper. He smiled without the usual self-restraint. Scott lunged from the chair, knowing in an instant he shouldn’t have, yet he found great pleasure in the fact that his hand came within inches of Wellmen’s neck before the suits grabbed him and dragged him back to the oaken chair.

  “A society that had gunpowder five hundred years before Europeans ever dreamed of it is not to be taken lightly, and without gunpowder, we would still be in the Dark Ages. Make no mistake, Mr. Evers, let there be no doubt, I am an American and my loyalties lie nowhere else. It should also be clear that I would not be the man I am today without the teachings of Eastern philosophy.”

  Wellmen turned back to his food. The meal continued quietly. Scott tried to speak several times, but Wellmen either raised a hand to tell him to stop or ignored him. When Wellmen finally cleaned his plate, he dabbed either side of his mouth and then turned back to Scott as attendants descended upon the table to clear it. “The only crime I have ever committed in my life, Mr. Evers, is the crime I carry out in my mind. I made a promise to my beloved wife as she was dying in my arms that I would exact revenge. While I believe in vengeance, Mr. Evers, I am not a vengeful man. I do not blame others for mistakes that I have made, I blame only myself. Do you understand?”

  It took Scott a moment to digest the cold casualness of Wellmen’s tone. He tossed the mangled silk napkin onto his plate as an attendant took it away. “Why am I here?”

  “This is about vengeance, Mr. Evers, not for me, for Glen Hastings. He blames me for something that happened many years ago, something that nearly destroyed his career and his life, but something I had no part in. I am a legitimate businessman, Mr. Evers, and if I were otherwise, I would be in jail, billions or no billions. You must know that most of my wealth came from family money and all I did was invest heavily in ventures that turned a profit, I ask you, is that un-American? Or is that the American way?”

  Scott bunched his eyebrows together. “If that’s true, then why in hell am I here?”

  “To end this harassment, here and now. I have many influential and persuasive friends in Washington; their reach extends all the way to the President. What’s left of Glen Hastings’ life is about to be flushed down the toilet, are you going to follow him?”

  “Let me see if I have this right, you kidnap me and bring me here to warn me and—”Wellmen cleared his throat. “We both know you came of your own free will. No one forced you onto my jet, you walked on. The reason you are here is that my daughter’s wedding is only a few days away and I will not have her happiness spoiled by false accusations and harassment. I have one daughter, Mr. Evers, my only living child. I want her wedding to be a day she will remember for the rest of her life. Jessica is all I have left, I have spared no expense on the preparations, and no one is going to ruin it. Do we understand each other?”

  Scott glared at Wellmen, suddenly seeing something he hadn’t seen before. “Helen’s not yours then?”

  “Of course, she’s not mine. She may have been illegitimate but I… “ Wellmen’s voice trailed off. “So you’ve made the connection, have you? You’re a bolder man than I thought then, Mr. Evers.” He stopped again, continued, “Do you know what it is like to lose children, Mr. Evers? Do you know how desperately it makes you want to preserve whatever you have left?”

  Scott sucked at the air, looked away. He knew, a ball of white-hot rage in his gut every time he thought about C and the baby and knew that Wellmen was just outside his grasp. “Where’s Helen?”

  “Do you think I would hurt Helen? I’ve always treated her as fairly as I could. I’ve loved her in my own way. But I can’t help that Jessica’s my daughter and she’s not.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I would imagine she has continued on to wherever you were bound for. You are welcome to leave anytime you wish, but first let me reiterate that this is about vengeance, Mr. Evers. Glen Hastings is trying to punish me for something that I had no part in and no knowledge of until recently. Even if it takes a presidential order, this harassment of me and my family ends here and now. If you want to follow him into the gutter, that is your choice.”

  Scott stood. “And the financial crisis is what then—hocus pocus?”

  “As you say, Mr. Evers.” He cleared his throat. “My Leer leaves for Kapalua in a few hours. It would be most unfortunate for both of us if I saw you during my stay in the islands.”

  Scott walked away. When the guards didn’t step aside at the door, he turned and glared at Wellmen. “Are the goons going to move?”

  Wellmen stood, didn’t say a word. Something on the overhead monitors caught his eye. He shouted, “Mr. Kim?”

  Seconds later Kim Dong Gi came rushing into the dining room. “That man, have security bring him here now.”

  Scott tried to say something, he was cut off.

  “One last thing, Mr. Evers, if anything should happen to me or anyone in my family during my stay in Kapalua, I’ll hold you personally responsible. I’ve made arrangemen
ts—an insurance policy if you will. I want Glen to live with his failure for the rest of his life, but you, I don’t give a damn about. Are we clear as crystal on that?”

  Scott turned his back on Wellmen and said, “If you’re planning on killing me, you’d better do it now.”

  Wellmen clapped his hands, dismissing Scott into the custody of security just as the man on the monitor was dragged into the room. Scott didn’t move. He glared at the man. Pictures, images, faces flooded through his mind: Was it John Tippton? Could it be John Tippton? He didn’t have time to dwell on the thought.

  He was dragged out of the room much as the other man had been dragged into the room.

  Chapter 18

  Honolulu, Hawaii Evening,

  Saturday, 22 January

  It was 9:05 p.m., Honolulu time. Scott scratched at his eyes with the heels of his palms. The flights from Denver to LAX and LAX to Honolulu were the longest of his life. Wellmen was clever. Scott gave him credit for that. He knew enough about Scott to know that bribery wouldn’t have worked. Still Scott found himself wondering if Wellmen was telling the truth and if he was telling the truth, what did it all mean?

  Scott’s thoughts were moving in circles—had been moving in circles—and the plane couldn’t taxi to the terminal fast enough to please him. His thoughts turned to Helen. In Miami, he had purchased the tickets, paying in cash, in the name of Mr. and Mrs.

  Miller. Was Mrs. Miller, Helen, really in Honolulu as his inquiry revealed, or was she somewhere else?

  He hoped she really was here and that she was waiting for him, but his gut was telling him otherwise. He rubbed his eyes again, and told himself that he would call Glen from an airport phone just like he planned. He would say the search was going well and nothing about anything else.

  ***

  Glen answered the phone on the third ring. He grinned into the wall mirror beside the desk and waited for the Christmas tree to light. He wasn’t surprised to find Scott’s voice greeting him in a heated tone and the instant he picked up the phone a trace of the call began. Everything was going according to plan. He would show them all. Even monkeys sometimes fall out of the tree.

  He let Scott talk for a while. He didn’t listen. He didn’t need to. When there was finally silence on the other end of the line, Glen said, in as clear and emotionless a voice as he could manage, “Helen is with you, give her the phone.”

  “I’m in Honolulu, Glen, I’m alone.”

  “Put her on the phone, Scott. I know she is with you. I know she can lead us to the box. She only needs to be persuaded that it’s in her best interest to give it to us.”

  Glen reveled in the silence on the other end of the line. He could picture Scott’s face in his mind’s eye and would’ve paid well for a photograph capturing the moment.

  Then a shallow female voice whispered, “Yes?”

  “Is Scott listening to our conversation?”

  A delightfully awkward discord of stifled breaths and whimpers followed. Finally Helen said, “No.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Helen, or—”“Or you’ll what? He’s not listening.”

  Glen was pleased with her sudden bravery, yet knew he could still reach across the phone line, always could. “There’s an empty plot next to Harry’s—”“You can’t touch me, I’m safe now.”

  “And Scott is your savior?” Glen chuckled. “He works for me, Helen, and I wasn’t talking about you. I think it’s about time Mrs. Johnson joined her husband, Harry, don’t you think that would be good? Jessica on one side, mommy on the other, and no family plot left for poor illegitimate Helen.”

  “What do you want from me? I did everything you asked, everything.”

  “Though I would’ve taken great pleasure in it, Helen, I didn’t kill Jessica. I was going to keep my promise. We made a deal. I promised to let her go when you gave me what I wanted, and I would have except someone else got to her first. I’ve no reason to lie. Do you have the item she sent to you?”

  “She didn’t send me anything.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Helen; I know she sent something to you.

  Do you want to get even with the ones who killed Jessica?”

  “She didn’t send me anything.”

  “I tell you what, Helen, when I kill your mommy, I’ll make sure there isn’t much left, who knows, maybe they’ll be able to squeeze what’s left of the both of you into a single plot…” Glen’s voice trailed off for moment, then returned full and steady, “Tell Scott where the item is, don’t lie, just get it and give it to him.”

  ***

  Helen dropped the phone. She sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Scott grabbed the phone. “What did you say to her?”

  “Only what you should have said to her.”

  “I know about the recording, Glen, I know everything.”

  “Everything is an awful lot, Scott, you don’t know everything yet or you wouldn’t be angry. Sometimes you have to cut down a few trees to save the forest. If you only knew—”“Glen, I’ve had enough. You stepped way beyond the lines. I’m going to go over your head—”The voice on the other end of the line became a whisper, “I know about the meeting with Wellmen. I know your every step since you left Baltimore.”

  “I’m going—”“Don’t play me for the fool. You’re in this up to your ears and everything, and I mean everything, is sitting at your feet. Incidentally, you left behind a bottle of cognac in a hotel room at the Ritz-Carlton. Your fingerprints were all over it, seems to be the only clue in a triple homicide.”

  “What the hell are you doing to me? First the recording, and now this. What are you planning to do with the recording? Mail it to Cynthia if I don’t do what you ask for the next sixty years?”

  “You give me way too much credit, Scott, but now that you mention it…” Glen chuckled. “You see, it’s this simple, you take out Mr. Kim, Jessica, and Wellmen. His estate falls into probate and third cousins try to carve his empire into tiny little pieces for the next fifty years. Neat, simple, direct. Don’t you think?”

  “If anything happens to Cynthia, I’ll be coming straight for you, you sick son of a bitch!”

  “I’ve never let anything happen to Cynthia. Haven’t gotten it through your thick skull yet that Wellmen is the one who tried to kill her? He knows your reputation. He knows he can’t buy you no matter how much money he throws at your feet—and the recordings were simply additional insurance. He’s a cautious man, doubly so. Don’t you understand how important it is that you’re not on this case? An agent that can’t be bought, Scott, you’re one of a kind.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Janet’s involvement in this case?”

  Glen was silent for a moment. “You still don’t get it, do you?

  Years ago when we first met, I knew you were the one, the one who would help me set the record straight. Why do you think I oversaw your training? Why do you think I fed you assignments the last twenty years? Why do you think I positioned you where you are?”

  “What about Janet? How is she connected to this? I want the truth.”

  “Forget Janet. Focus on what I’m telling you for a moment, will you: John Ellis Wellmen is the one you want. Bring him down, do whatever it takes.”

  “Damn it, Glen, tell me one thing that is the truth. Wellmen was listed from the beginning, and maybe Kim Dong Gi, but his daughter? Does this really have anything to do with a magic box or did you just make all that up?”

  “We don’t want you to find it. We never wanted you to find it. It’s going exactly where we want it to go and it will do exactly what we want it to do. Helen got my message, she understands.”

  “I know the technology is valuable. I have Jessica’s diary. She wrote about everything: The truth.”

  “The truth?” Glen started laughing. “The truth? You haven’t been listening. Your truth is what I’ve fed you.”

  “I’ve recorded every conversation we’ve had on the phone since this began. I made copies. Who should I address
them to?”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “I’m recording this one using a device that fits over the mouth- and earpiece of the phone, transmits wirelessly to a recorder in my shirt pocket. Your system won’t detect it; anyone you’ve had watching me wouldn’t see it. Wonderfully brilliant, don’t you think?”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “If you’re sure, hang up. If you’re not, tell me about the magic box.”

  “Scott, you don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t do this; it won’t play out the way you think. You’ll become a liability; everyone you could reach out to becomes a liability.”

  “Does that include you, you son of a bitch?”

  “Yes, yes, yes. Are you happy now? … It also includes Cynthia, Helen, Janet—anyone and everyone. Do you get it now?”

  ***

  Glen slammed down the phone, threw the desk lamp across the room. Janet was lying beside the fire, half asleep, waiting for him. She jumped up, asking “What’s wrong? What is it?” He told her nothing was wrong, but when he looked at her and felt the wonder of the hand on his shoulder, he knew what he would have to do, to her, to Scott, to anyone or anything that outlived its usefulness. Then he thought that maybe in the darkness as she screamed his name in the throes of passion would be the right time, but first there were things he must do.

  He picked up the phone, pushed the second preset button. A strong male voice answered. Glen said, “This is Hastings… Yes, I know what time it is. Honolulu. First available flight… Yes, yes, yes.”

  Glen hung up the phone.

  Janet patted the floor beside her. “Come here, you look tense.”

  “Maybe in a moment.” Glen picked up the phone, pushed the first preset button. The phone dialed out the number to the private line for James Henry Simons. Unfortunately, the line was busy. He put the phone down, said to Janet, “A drive would be relaxing, don’t you think?”