He’d left the gallery with little more than a terse thanks for the pizza and “don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out” in the way of a goodbye. Back home, he’d grabbed a quick shower and now sat in front of the computer with his third cup of coffee. Once more he went over all the details Cal had sent him about the Bald Hill clear-cut and Jamison’s connection. He followed as many of the leads back from that direction as he could – all of them dead-ending nowhere close to Stacie Emerson. If Bald Hill was her only reason for hating the man, well, she’d have to take a number.
Thanks to quality time spent with Pneuma Inc.’s tech genius, Wade Crittenden, Harris’ computer system was way more than state of the art, and he could access things that were only slightly less than illegal. The Crittenden upgrades had come in very handy in research and work he had done for the Vanguard, but it was a far cry from Wade’s system.
By the time the sun rose properly over the lake, Harris was researching New World Gallery in New York. Even if there’d been no connection to Jamison, Zoe Hanson’s suicide and the fact that Stacie was the one who found her, the one who had to carry on with the gallery after her death, was enough to really mess anyone up. But it was the implication that Jamison had been her lover that had closed Stacie down. Her response had chilled Harris’ blood.
Stacie had paid off the tremendous debt single-handedly with the exhibition from the Hermitage, featuring objects that had never been exhibited abroad before. Harris checked through as many write-ups about the big event in as many papers as he could. Accompanying the New York Times write-up was a photo of Stacie standing with the Saint Petersburg representatives and several of the major contributors in the States. He recognized Al Marston flanking her and … he squinted hard, then magnified the photo as much as he could on his system. Sure enough, in the background, not looking particularly happy, was Terrance Jamison. Harris felt the skin on the back of his neck crawl. Even with the bad image resolution, it was clear Jamison’s unpleasant look was reserved for Stacie.
No matter how hard Harris searched, though, he couldn’t find out who the gallery was in debt to. No matter how good his system might be, it just couldn’t do what Wade’s could. Another cup of coffee, more mounting frustration, and he called Wade.
‘What?’ came the usual terse answer.
‘Can I use the Dungeon’s computer for a little while? I need to do some techie research.’ That sounded better than questionable research, research that, no doubt, would have made Stacie furious if she knew, and was probably illegal as well.
‘Let yourself in,’ came the distracted reply. ‘Bring lunch. I’m starving.’
Harris looked down at his watch. It would be an early lunch, he thought, but then Wade dined when he felt like it, labeling whatever meal he ate randomly. ‘Anything in particular?’ Harris asked.
‘Don’t care. Gotta go. Busy.’ The line went dead.
An hour later, he arrived at the Dungeon, as Wade’s domain in the Pneuma Building was affectionately known, with burritos and nachos from the only restaurant he could find en route that was serving lunch so early. Wade was definitely not a foodie and could probably digest old tires if it meant he didn’t have to leave his research to eat, so Harris figured he was safe enough in his choice. Wade met him at the door, took the offered brown bag, and nodded to the driver’s seat in his boudoir.
Another hour and two Cokes later, Harris realized Wade was looking over his shoulder. ‘Why are you trying to access New World Gallery’s finances?’ he asked.
‘It’s something that’s bothering me about Stacie Emerson,’ Harris replied.
Wade folded his arms across his chest and offered him the evil eye. ‘Are you stalking her?’ Before he had time to answer, Wade reached over his shoulder and, with a few quick key strokes, pulled up the files and then some.
‘Jesus, Wade,’ Harris managed around a tightness of nerves in his chest. ‘You scare me sometimes.’
‘I know,’ came the matter of fact reply. Then he pulled up a chair next to Harris and rubbed his hands together. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘There’s no debt,’ Harris said. ‘There’s never even a mention of any debt until Stacie’s big media show of paying it off after the opening of the Hermitage exhibition. And look here, even the bank records you pulled up – and I don’t want to know how you did that – show that everything was meticulously paid off. Always. There was no debt.’
‘Why the sudden interested in Stacie’s finances, Walker?’ Wade asked.
‘I’m not interested in her finances. I’m interested in her connection with Jamison.’
‘Probably her connection with Ellis,’ Wade said.
‘Possibly, but if Jamison were interested in hurting Ellis through the people he loves, it’d be Dee he’d be turning his attention to, don’t you think?’
‘Hold it.’ Wade’s evil eye was back in spades. ‘You never said anything about Jamison turning his attention to Stacie. What the hell is going on?’
‘First she nearly gets herself killed on the Bald Hill clear-cut, out there alone. And every time Jamison’s mentioned, the drawbridge comes up and she turns into a fortress and … Whoa, wait a minute! Look at this.’ He squinted at the monitor. ‘There are colossal expenses here. Major damage to the facility. The basement flooding twice? What are the chances of that? Damage to art, complete electrical overhaul due to unsafe wiring. Three repairs due to vandalism … What the hell’s going on here, Wade? This sounds like major sabotage. And every time it happens there’s a big influx of cash from … Omega Trust. Who the hell is Omega Trust?’
It took another hour and a half of searching before the roots of Omega Trust were uncovered, exactly where Harris had feared. It seemed Omega Trust was really Omega Holdings, which became the Omega Group and was swallowed up by Core Invest. ‘Fuck!’ The two men said at exactly the same time. It was Jamison who had first Zoe Hanson, then Stacie by the short hairs.
All at once Harris felt nauseated. ‘But why? Why any of this?’ He nodded to the series of expensive repairs that, when pieced together in the puzzle, clearly had to be the result of deliberate damage.
Wade scrolled through the financial record again. ‘We were running Pneuma Inc. out of a shoebox at the ass end of Gresham then. Nothing there to interest Jamison. Far as I know, Ellis had no contact with Stacie then, and neither did Garrett.’
‘Did it have something to do with Zoe Hanson?’ Harris asked.
Wade pulled up what he could find about Zoe, by which time Harris had nearly forgotten how illegal what they were doing was. ‘Zoe Hanson. Born to a family of moderate wealth. Only child. Inherited the gallery. Nothing I can see that would draw Jamison’s attention. Unless …’ Wade pulled up a photo of Zoe two years before her suicide. ‘Unless Jamison’s a collector of more than just fine art.’
Harris let out a low whistle at the picture of a porcelain-skinned redhead who looked as though she could have come straight out of a Pre-Raphaelite painting. ‘You really think it was just that? The way she looked?’
‘I’m not a psychologist,’ Wade said. ‘But rich people have expensive hobbies, and how legal those hobbies are doesn’t matter if there’s enough money.’ He brought up details on Zoe Hanson from who knew where? ‘Educated at Harvard, spoke French, German and Italian fluently. Travelled extensively before her father’s death from a heart attack forced her to take over the gallery. She was a formidable yachtswoman, which she gave up when she took over the gallery.’ Seeing Harris’ questioning look, Wade nodded to the monitor. ‘There are records here for the sale of a yacht about the time she took on New World Gallery, but no purchase records of another one. She sounds like an interesting diversion for Jamison.’
Harris thought about what he knew of Stacie’s background. If Zoe had been an interesting diversion, then Stacie must have been completely enthralling. But that was just a theory, he reminded himself.
Into the tense silence, Wade’s BlackBerry buzzed. He cursed an
d picked it up. ‘What? I’m bus … We’ll be right up.’ He shoved the device back into its holster and tugged at his grey hoodie. ‘That was Ellis. There’s been a coup in Valderia. All our properties have been nationalized.’
When Wade and Harris arrived at Ellis’ office, the meeting had begun. Dee, Ellis, and Alan Marston, who was in town for talks, all sat at the conference table with files spread and laptops open. Lynn, Ellis’ secretary, took notes fast and furiously.
Dee gave Harris a tight hug and nodded him to a seat next to Ellis just as Martin Flannery gave a soft knock on the door and let himself in. Harris knew the man was way more than head of security for Pneuma Inc. Flannery was ex-special forces with connections that even God didn’t have.
Flannery nodded his greeting, then turned his attention to Ellis. ‘We’ve got most of our people out of Valderia except for the few in the deep interior. They aren’t going to be easy.’
‘I don’t care what you have to do,’ Ellis said, ‘and I don’t care what resources you have to use, Martin. Just get them to safety. That’s our number one priority. I want no loss of life. None.’
‘Understood.’ The man pulled out his BlackBerry and typed furiously for only a few seconds, then put it away. ‘I’m pulling in all the favors I can muster.’
‘I know you are.’ The muscles tightened along Ellis’ jaw as he held Flannery’s gaze. ‘It’s Jamison, isn’t it?’
Flannery nodded. ‘He’s made no attempt to cover it up. Says he’s protecting Valderian interests.’
‘Read into that his interests,’ Marston said. ‘The fucker has deep pockets.’
‘My sources tell me he’s already taking bids on the Valderian forest,’ Flannery said.
Harris always felt slightly giddy when he recalled the photo shoot he’d done for Ellis in their whirlwind trip to Valderia. They had trekked through the most pristine forest he’d ever seen at what could have only been described as a forced march. As they struggled to assess the situation, Ellis and his team negotiated to buy up all the properties that would allow Jamison access to clear-cut and remove timber from the forest, in essence making it impossible for the man to get to or export the timber he’d purchased. The cost to Pneuma Inc. must have been colossal, yet Ellis never flinched about doing the right thing. It had been a well-coordinated work of total genius between Ellis, Wade and Dee. As proud as Harris was of his own involvement, he still couldn’t think about the efforts of his best friend without a sense of extreme pride. Dee had proven her worth a thousand times over during that very tense time. How could Ellis not have fallen head over heels for her? They had all worked hard, way above peak performance, to keep Jamison from selling the virgin forest for clear-cutting. Surely all that work couldn’t have been for nothing. And Harris knew, as very few did, that with the team of people around this table, if there was a way they’d find it. If there wasn’t, they’d invent one. Yet the very thought of the possible loss still made him feel sick inside.
‘Fortunately, my uncle was out of the country when the coup happened,’ Dee said. Another surprise, that. Who knew Dee had an uncle in the Valderian government? Well, not a blood uncle, but someone close to her, someone who loved her and respected her enough to willingly pull strings from the inside. ‘Most of those in President Vasquez’s cabinet have been imprisoned for interrogation, or worse. Uncle Gustavo’s working from Paris to call in favors and see what can be done. No one knows at the moment if President Vasquez is alive or dead.’
‘Can Jamison really finance an entire coup?’ asked Harris.
‘He doesn’t have to,’ Wade chimed in. ‘All he has to do is unload his forest to someone sympathetic to the regime change, then he can withdraw whenever it suits him.’
‘He’s given Alberto Rojas a taste of power,’ said Flannery, ‘and convinced him it’s his for the taking – with Jamison’s help, of course. From here on out, the man’s putty in Jamison’s hands. And Jamison’s only interested in getting his money’s worth. That, and getting even with Ellis.’
‘Fucker’s just a glorified drug lord,’ Marston said.
‘And if he gets too full of himself –’ Flannery added ‘– Jamison can always have him assassinated.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ Marston looked like he could bite nails. ‘So what the hell are we gonna do about it?’
‘We can try to circumvent the sale,’ Ellis replied. ‘Do we know who the prospective buyer is?’
‘Not yet, but we’ll find out.’ Flannery shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
‘What is it, Martin? If you’ve got something we can use,’ Ellis said, ‘then spit it out.’
‘I don’t know whether this has anything to do with anything, or even if you knew already, but Stacie Emerson and Jamison have talked.’
‘What?’ came the nearly unison response.
Flannery tugged at his collar as though it were too tight. ‘Keep in mind I’m working for the woman, and if this is considered a breach of confidence, which it damned well could be, then I deserve to be fired on the spot, but it wasn’t a good feeling I got.’
‘Tell us,’ Ellis said. ‘If Stacie’s in trouble, we need to know.’
It was all Harris could do to stay in his seat.
Flannery leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. He took a deep breath and began. ‘She tried to keep it from me, but I overheard the phone call. She didn’t look happy about it. One minute she was laughing and joking with me, and we were looking over the plans for her security system, and the next minute, I thought the woman was gonna pass out on me. She looked scared. Almost sick, in fact. Oh, when she hung up, she tried to make light of it. And when he sent the limo, she tried to convince me that it was just business.’
‘Jesus,’ Harris burst out. ‘Stacie went to see him? Why the hell didn’t you stop her? She knows what he’s like. After what he did to her in New York, why would she go to him?’
Instantly all eyes were on Harris, but before he could say anything, Wade blurted out, ‘New World Gallery was in debt to Omega Trust, which, through some barely legal bullshit, is now Core Invest.’
For a second, the room was silent. Harris could swear everyone was holding their breath. At last, Ellis inhaled slowly. ‘I had no idea. Jesus! Why didn’t she tell anyone? Fuck! It’s a wonder she came out of it alive.’
Harris felt a cold prickle rise up his spine. It was all he could do to keep from leaving right this minute to find her, to make sure she was safe. He forced his attention back to what was being said, what he might need to know before he made a quick exit to her.
‘All this time I thought Jamison spent the big bucks at her auction just to thumb his nose at me,’ Ellis said.
‘There’s something else you should know.’ Flannery had the room’s attention again. ‘Stacie didn’t tell me this, but a couple of the workmen did. New World Gallery West was vandalized a couple of weeks ago.’
‘What?’ Harris was out of his chair and so was Marston.
Flannery continued, ‘The foreman said when she saw it, she didn’t look so much angry as scared. Then, apparently, she pulled herself together, refused to call the police, and asked the foreman to bring in extra crews, work extra shifts, whatever it took to get the repairs done.’
The knot in Harris’ chest was nearly painful. ‘I need to go to her,’ he managed.
But Dee laid a hand on his arm and settled him back into the chair. ‘You need to know what’s going on first.’
‘Just like New York,’ Wade said. That got the full attention of everyone. Then he and Harris explained what they’d found during their little research session in the Dungeon.
Stunned silence settled over the room again. At last, Ellis offered a strangled whisper. ‘I had no idea. None of us did.’
‘Fuck!’ The look on Alan Marston’s face was pure anguish. ‘When Zoe Hanson committed suicide and saddled Stacie with all that debt, Jamison owned her. Goddamn it! I’m so stupid. Why in God’s name didn’t I see it before? I shoulda. It
’s obvious now.’ He tugged on his tie hard enough to strangle himself and continued. ‘Like I said, Stacie and I, we go way back. I met her when she started working at New World Gallery. I knew she was a bright young lady even then. I was there. When the shit hit the fan I thought she’d made some bad deal with some loan shark, and when she ended up in the hospital –’ Marston’s face went beet red and he looked like he could explode. ‘It was that motherfucker. Had to be! Had to be!’
‘What? He beat her?’ Harris felt a mix of panic and raw rage burn in his chest. ‘Jamison beat Stacie?’
Marston nodded, now looking a little green around the gills. ‘I knew Jamison and Zoe Hanson were thick as thieves, but I had no idea with Stacie. All I knew was that Zoe had left her in a real mess, and I thought she’d turned to some loan shark for help. And Stacie, well, she never asked me for help, never complained, never said a word. Wouldn’t take help when I offered, except toward the end for treatment for Zoe, and she paid every cent of that back. I introduced her to Sasha Ivanov from the Hermitage Museum. I thought maybe something could come of it; at least keep the wolves at bay for another month. And damned if she didn’t negotiate one of the biggest exhibitions of art from the museum the US has ever had. Enough to get the gallery running in the black. I was there the night she paid it all off. Me and half of New York City’s movers and shakers and I don’t know how much goddamned news media toasted her.’
‘I can’t believe Jamison would let her walk away, even if she did pay off the debt,’ Ellis said.
‘Doubt he would’ve if she hadn’t done it all in such a public way. I reckon that was K. Ryde’s doing. She did tell me that she’d hired the Ryde Agency for PR. Back then nobody’d ever heard of them, but fuck if they didn’t get the job done.’
The Exhibition (An Executive Decision Trilogy) Page 19