Lost Lake

by Phillip Margolin

  Carl and Wingate ran in silence for a while, then Wingate asked, “How is Vanessa’s calculus?”

  Carl wasn’t sure if Wingate was being sarcastic, so he decided to give him a straight answer.

  “She picked up on what I was saying pretty fast.”

  “Vanessa is smart, but she doesn’t give school her full attention. I wish her grades reflected her IQ.”

  The General’s confidences made Carl uncomfortable. He wouldn’t want his mother discussing his shortcomings with his friends.

  “Rice isn’t a name I’m familiar with. Do you live around here, Carl?”

  “No.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “San Diego.” Carl decided to cut short the General’s probing into his lineage. “I’m on scholarship.”

  “You sound defensive.”

  “I’m not,” he said a little too quickly.

  “Good. You shouldn’t be. I’m pleased that Vanessa has a friend who hasn’t had everything in life handed to him. St. Martin’s is an excellent school. I wouldn’t have permitted Vanessa to attend if it wasn’t. But many of the students are there because their parents bought their way in. They are spoiled and worthless. You should be proud that your admission was based on merit.”

  The General’s speech surprised Carl. He certainly didn’t sound like the ogre Vanessa had made him out to be.

  Wingate picked up the pace after a mile, but Carl still had no trouble keeping up. At two miles a stone jetty blocked the beach and the General turned back toward the house. With a half mile to go, Wingate started to sprint. Carl could have outrun the older man easily, but he did not want to race. He sensed that this was some sort of test, but he just matched his pace to the General’s and pretended that they were not competing. They were two hundred meters from the stairs when Carl saw a man in jeans and a plaid shirt walking along the edge of the cliff. The sun shone in Carl’s eyes and he had to look away, but there had been a moment when the man’s body blocked the sun and Carl thought he saw an automatic weapon.

  When they reached the stairs the General was gasping but Carl’s breathing was still steady.

  Wingate leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. “You’re in good shape, Carl.”

  “I work out several hours every day. Running is part of my training.”

  “Do you compete for St. Martin’s?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  Carl shrugged. “My studies and karate keep me pretty busy. I don’t have time.”

  “What are you doing next year?”

  “College, I hope.”

  “I assume your grades are high.”

  “I’m doing okay.”

  “Where are you applying?”

  “Cal, some of the other UC schools. Dartmouth is my first choice. But it all depends on scholarships. If I have to I’ll work for a year or two.”

  Wingate stood up straight. His breathing was normal again. “Shall we go up? Vanessa should be awake by now.”

  Carl found himself drawn to the General. Would Vanessa turn against him if she thought he liked her father? He hoped that Vanessa was still sleeping and wouldn’t see him with Wingate, but he hoped in vain. She was on the terrace dressed in tennis shorts and a light green short-sleeved shirt eating a croissant and sipping coffee.

  “Engaged in male bonding?” she asked when the men drew close.

  “I asked Carl to join me on my run,” Wingate responded, ignoring her sarcasm. “He tells me that he’s helping you with your schoolwork.”

  Vanessa stared at Carl long enough to make him nervous. He fully expected Vanessa to tell her father what they’d done in the guest room all night long.

  “I was having trouble with math. Carl’s a whiz. I think I understand it now.”

  “Good. I’m going to shower. I’ll see you two later.”

  “So, what did you think of the General?” Vanessa asked when her father was out of earshot.

  “He’s in good shape for someone his age,” Carl answered noncommittally.

  Vanessa laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite you if you say something nice about him. He makes a great first impression, especially with men. Those steely eyes, the firm set of his jaw, his military posture. He’s all man, and you guys eat that up.”

  “Really, Vanessa, I was practicing karate. We talked about that and we ran together. He asked me where I live and about school.”

  Vanessa leaned forward and took Carl’s jaw in her hand. The touch was electric and ignited his desire.

  “You’re red as a beet and I bet I know what you’re thinking.” Carl’s blush deepened. “Why don’t you go up and shower and I’ll join you?”

  “With your father in the house?” Carl asked nervously.

  “Especially with my father in the house,” she answered, staring viciously into the dark interior of her home.

  As they got up, a man walked around the corner of the mansion. He was not the same man Carl had seen patrolling the edge of the cliff. This time there was no question that the man was armed.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Vanessa said when she noticed where Carl was looking. “My father always travels with guards. He’s very important. Even Enrique is ex-military, from some South American country my father had dealings with. Probably from some death squad my father helped train.” Carl couldn’t tell if she was kidding. “He’s always armed.”

  Carl frowned. He didn’t like the idea of armed men patrolling the grounds. It meant that there was a reason for them to be there. Then Vanessa took his hand and Carl forgot about the guards.

  The General left the house shortly after breakfast. While he was gone, Carl and Vanessa alternated between screwing their brains out and lolling on the beach. Wingate returned in the early evening for dinner. He tried to conduct a normal conversation during the meal, but his daughter answered any direct questions tersely and was morosely silent when Carl and her father were speaking. Carl was intensely uncomfortable and was relieved when dinner ended.

  The couple went to a movie because the General was having company. The visitors were gone when they returned after midnight. Vanessa spent the night in Carl’s room, which made him very nervous. He imagined the General wrenching open the guest room door and murdering him in bed, but there were no nocturnal incursions and Morris Wingate was gone when they woke up Sunday morning.

  Carl was exhausted when Vanessa dropped him off at his apartment on Sunday evening. He went right to sleep and slept through his alarm, arriving late for class for the first time since he’d started at St. Martin’s. Carl hoped he would not run into Sandy Rhodes or Mike Manchester. He lucked out. They weren’t in any of his classes and he only saw them in the hall at a distance. Vanessa told Carl that the boys were telling everyone who asked about their bruises that they’d received their scars while successfully fighting off a gang of bikers in an alley behind a bar.

  3

  The first semester of Carl’s senior year was a blur. He wanted to spend every minute he could with Vanessa but explained that he had to keep his grades up if he was going to have a chance at a college scholarship. She understood and never interfered with his studies. When they went to the beach after class, Vanessa had him home by seven. If he stayed at her house on the weekends, she insisted that he bring his books.

  At first, Carl dreaded the weekends at the Wingate estate if the General was in residence because there was so much tension between Morris Wingate and his daughter, but he soon began looking forward to Wingate’s appearances. The General was charming and intelligent. He had a wide range of knowledge and seemed to have been everywhere. Carl felt guilty because he didn’t hate Vanessa’s father the way his daughter did. He was careful not to mention his feelings to Vanessa. She must have noticed that Carl and her father got along, but she never said anything to him about it.

  Sometimes Carl and the General worked out together. Usually they ran on the beach, but one day Wingate suggested that they spar. He was
not in Carl’s league, but he wasn’t bad. Thinking about it later, Carl realized that he should not have been surprised. Wingate was military, and soldiers fight for a living. For the most part, Carl played defense, content to block Wingate’s punches and kicks while occasionally landing a light blow of his own. Carl was sure that the General knew he was holding back, but he couldn’t bring himself to go all-out.

  Two nights after their sparring session, the phone rang in Carl’s apartment. He took the call in his room, hoping that it was Vanessa, but the caller was Morris Wingate. The General had never phoned him before, and he worried that something had happened to Vanessa.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” Wingate said. “I’m in D.C., but I’ll be back in California on Thursday night. Do you have any plans?”

  Actually, he didn’t. He and Vanessa both had midterms and had agreed to study all week and not see each other.

  “Good,” Wingate said. “I have a surprise planned for you on Thursday night. I’ll send a car at seven. Don’t tell Vanessa.”

  The General hung up before Carl could ask him any questions. He wished that Wingate had not told him to keep their meeting a secret from Vanessa. What if he obeyed and she found out? If you loved someone-and Carl thought he might be in love with Vanessa-you shouldn’t have secrets. But Carl didn’t know why he wasn’t supposed to tell Vanessa. What if the General was planning a surprise for her and wanted him in on it? He’d be ruining everything if he told. Carl decided to wait and see what the General was planning. He could always tell Vanessa what had happened afterward.

  A black town car parked in front of Carl’s apartment complex precisely at seven. Chauffeur-driven cars were a rarity in Carl’s neighborhood, and it drew stares.

  “Where are you going?” Evelyn Rice asked her son.

  “I don’t know, Mom. I told you, the General said it’s a surprise.”

  “Why isn’t your girlfriend going with you?”

  “I don’t know that either.” Carl put on his jacket and kissed his mother on the cheek. “I’ve got to go.”

  Evelyn wrapped her arms around her body to keep her emotions in as Carl closed the apartment door behind him. Her son had been tight-lipped about this girl he was seeing. All Evelyn knew was that Vanessa was very rich, her mother was dead, and her father lived in Washington, D.C., most of the year and ran an intelligence agency. Evelyn did not approve of leaving a child unsupervised for long periods of time, and she thought it was odd that someone as important as General Wingate would invite her son out for an evening without asking his daughter along; but Carl had been so happy lately that she had kept her forebodings to herself.

  Some of the neighborhood kids made remarks when the chauffeur opened the door for Carl, and he felt self-conscious as he slipped into the backseat next to the General. A bodyguard sat in the front seat next to the driver. Both men wore their hair long and were dressed in civilian clothes. Wingate was wearing a black shirt and dark slacks.

  “How are your exams going?” the General asked when they were under way.

  “Okay, I think. I took two this week and I have three more next week.”

  “Vanessa thinks she did well on her calculus test. She credits you with her improvement.”

  Carl colored. “She would have done okay without me.”

  “She also told me how you protected her from Sandy Rhodes.” Carl looked away. “That took courage. I’ve seen Sandy and his friend. They’re much bigger than you.”

  “I surprised Sandy, and they didn’t know how to fight,” Carl mumbled.

  The General studied Carl for a moment before speaking. “Modesty is a good trait, Carl, but you shouldn’t overdo it. Using surprise in a fight is admirable. Men only fight fair on TV. Fighting is not a game. In any event, I am indebted to you for protecting Vanessa.”

  Carl didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. The General dropped the subject, and they rode without speaking until the car turned off the highway and headed east into farm country.

  “I think you’ll find tonight interesting.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To a sporting competition,” Wingate answered with an enigmatic smile. “Your fight with Sandy and his friend wasn’t your first, was it?”

  “No,” Carl answered suspiciously, not sure where Wingate was going.

  “Did you ever join the Marauders?” Carl’s eyes widened. “I know you’ve participated in some of their gang fights but it’s not clear how far the association goes.”

  “How did…?”

  Wingate smiled. “I’m the head of an intelligence agency, Carl. How good an agency would it be if it couldn’t even run a background check on my daughter’s boyfriend?”

  Carl darkened. “I don’t think that’s right, sir.”

  “My daughter hates me. She blames me for her mother’s death and she goes out of her way to hurt me. On occasion she takes up with boys who could hurt her badly. She dates them simply to cause me pain. I love Vanessa very much. Sometimes I have to protect her from herself. That means finding out what I can about her friends and, on occasion, dealing with boys who could be a problem.”

  The General read the alarm in Carl’s eyes. He smiled warmly. “You’re not someone who’s bad for her, Carl. I’m greatly relieved that she’s finally found someone like you, someone with character.”

  Carl felt the tension drain from his shoulders.

  “I still have to know about the Marauders, though,” the General insisted.

  “There’s not much to know. I have friends from my old school who are in the gang. I’m not. When I earned my black belt I wanted to see how I would do outside a gym, you know, on the street where there weren’t any rules. I was in one fight and the cops picked me up. They couldn’t prove anything, so they let me go. There weren’t any charges, but being arrested shook me up. I told my friends I wasn’t going in with them. We’re still friends.”

  “How did you do without any rules?”

  Carl looked the General in the eye. “Very well.”

  Wingate smiled and dropped the conversation. In the east, the hills slowly faded in the growing darkness and the sky filled with stars. The town car turned onto a dirt road and drove through an orchard. Carl saw a light in the distance flickering through the trees. Moments later they were in front of a large barn, parking beside a sleek limousine. Several other expensive cars were parked nearby. When the driver opened the door for the General, Carl heard noise coming from the interior of the barn. The General’s bodyguard had gone ahead. He knocked on a door. It opened an inch and a fat man who was smoking a cigar peered out. Wingate’s bodyguard gave the fat man a wad of cash and said something that Carl could not hear. The fat man slipped the money into his pocket and broke into a smile.

  “General, it’s a pleasure.”

  “It sounds like you’ve got some interesting contests planned.”

  “We’ll keep you entertained,” the fat man assured Wingate as he stepped aside to let Carl, the General, and Wingate’s protection into the barn.

  A series of spotlights were focused on a cleared sand rectangle in the center of the barn, leaving the majority of the interior in shadow. Thick clouds of cigar and cigarette smoke created a haze, and excited exchanges took place between the people seated on folding chairs that ringed the open space. They were an odd mix of men and women. Some were dressed in formal attire, others in casual clothes. There were men in cowboy boots, plaid flannel shirts, and jeans and a few men who looked as if they’d just left a Vegas casino.

  At the far side of the barn several men were exchanging money in front of a portable bar. Wingate led Carl to some chairs in the first row. There were “reserved” signs on the seats. The driver and the bodyguard stood behind the last row of chairs, where they could keep an eye on everyone.

  “What’s going on, sir?” Carl asked.

  “The man who let us in is Vincent Rodino. He organizes unorthodox sporting events. I learned about this one a few days ago and though
t it might interest you.”

  Carl was about to ask another question when the lights dimmed and Rodino walked to the center of the sand rectangle that the seats surrounded. Two men were entering the rectangle from opposite sides. The man who entered from the left was stocky and his thick chest was matted with black hair. His legs were short and heavily muscled, as were his arms. There was a layer of scar tissue above the man’s eyebrows, and his nose had been broken more than once. He wore boxing trunks and footgear but no gloves.

  Carl recognized the other man from a recent karate tournament. He was tall, slender, and bare-fisted and wore only the black bottoms of his karategi.

  “Let’s get started, folks,” Rodino said in a loud voice. He waited to say more until the people who were standing found their seats. The fighters moved around, loosening their muscles and shadow-boxing.

  “We have an exciting card tonight,” Rodino said when the crowd quieted down. He raised his arm and pointed at the boxer. “This is Harold McMurray. He’s ranked sixth by the California State Boxing Commission in the light heavyweight division. He’s got a pro record of thirteen wins, two losses, and six knockouts.”

  Rodino turned to the other fighter. “Over here we got Mark Torrance, the western states karate champion for the past two years.”

  The crowd applauded, and Rodino motioned the fighters to the center of the arena.

  “You boys know the rules.” Rodino paused for effect. “There ain’t no rules.” Several people in the crowd laughed. “It’s winner takes all, no holds barred. You fight until one man is out or quits. No rounds. You can bite, gouge, wrestle. No weapons, though. You got it?”

  The fighters nodded. Wingate turned to Carl. “Do you think a karate man can take a professional boxer?”

  “It depends on the fighters.”

  Rodino stepped out of the arena, and the two men circled warily. The boxer was flat-footed, moving straight forward slowly while feinting with his head and shoulders. Torrance danced lightly on the balls of his feet.