The Gatekeeper's Son

by C. R. Fladmark

  “I suppose I’d be wasting my time if I asked you to step inside,” a deep male voice said.

  When I offered no response, the elderly driver, wearing an old-fashioned uniform, hurried around and opened the rear door. A tall man stepped out, wearing a blue suit so crisp it could have cut glass. He straightened his tie, not that he needed to, and inspected me, his face expressionless. Then he smiled, revealing a perfect set of white teeth.

  “Good morning, James.” He had an accent, slight and indefinable.

  “What do you want?”

  He took a business card from his suit pocket and passed it to me. It was cold, and when I flicked the edge, it sprang back. It was metal that was thin as paper, embossed with the name Mr. Müller and a telephone number with an area code I didn’t recognize.

  “Do you have a first name, since you know mine?” I said.

  “I have many given names, European aristocrats being what they are. I wouldn’t want to burden you with all of them.”

  “I see.” I felt a slight tingle in my neck and looked up. The man in black was back, and another guy just like him now stood farther up the block.

  “They’re with me,” Mr. Müller said. “One can’t be too careful, especially in this country. Who knows when violence may erupt?”

  “Yes, who knows?”

  He studied the bench and then sat beside me, placing as little of his pants on it as possible.

  “My employer noticed your banking transactions last night.”

  That caught me off guard. “Bartholomew knows about all my transactions?”

  Mr. Müller raised his brows. “We always notice when someone moves several hundred million dollars. But we have a special interest in Edward Thompson and his family.”

  “Because you’re helping Walter Roacks destroy his company?”

  “The other way around, actually.” Mr. Müller scowled. “Personally, such treachery disgusts me. Mr. Roacks seems to think that he is somehow entitled to the company.”

  “I noticed that when he tried to have me killed.”

  He smiled again. “Mr. Roacks has focused too much on his own goals and has failed to deliver what he promised. My employer does not take such things lightly.”

  “Meaning?”

  He shrugged. “He is no longer of use to us.”

  “Because of me.”

  He smiled. “Did you enjoy taking it all away from him? There’s nothing like beating an enemy at their own game.”

  It had felt good at the time, but I wasn’t so sure now.

  “I was told to inform you that you may keep the money.”

  I laughed. “I intend to—since it’s mine.”

  He frowned, and for the first time his steely fa�ade cracked, but only for a moment.

  “Edward chose to alienate us, but with one phone call”—he snapped his fingers—“my employer destroyed his dream. With another call he could bring it all back.”

  “I have enough money to save my grandfather. We don’t need you.”

  “I disagree. What will happen when my employer contacts the bank in the Turks and Caicos? And with Mr. Roacks in such a panic, no one can foresee Edward’s future … or yours. Whatever happens next is up to destiny, I’m afraid.”

  “I make my own destiny, Mr. Müller.”

  He gave that some thought. “Perhaps we can make a deal.”

  “Like what?”

  A smile spread across his face. “You possess something my employer has sought for a very long time.”

  I let out a snort. “The gold?”

  Mr. Müller waved his hand in dismissal. “Gold is a transitional metal, nothing more.”

  “So he doesn’t care how my grandfather went across to get it?”

  Mr. Müller’s lips tightened. “He is far more interested that you’ve been across.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “He wants to meet you.”

  I nodded slowly, trying to think fast enough to keep up.

  “If I do … he’ll leave my grandfather alone?”

  “Edward is already lost, but perhaps you can save his company.”

  My fists clenched. “Then tell Bartholomew he can go to hell.”

  An unpleasant smile came to his face. “He will be amused to hear that.” He turned and strode toward his car. “We’ll be in touch,” he called out as the car door slammed.

  As it sped away, I saw the longhaired man across the street. My anger rose up instantly. I breathed out and sent my energy hurtling toward him.

  He jerked as if I’d hit him and then turned and strode away, pushing through the pedestrians like a battering ram. Most people moved out of his way. Others swore at him, but he kept walking, unfazed.

  I stood up and ran after him, even as he disappeared among the cars and shops. I followed his energy, a dark magnet that pulled me to him. He was moving faster now, but I was closing in. Everything else faded away—pedestrians, cars, blaring horns, screeching tires. We were the only ones moving and breathing.

  The man turned to face me. I felt his energy, negative and powerful, but mine was more intense than I’d ever felt. The man jerked backward into a store’s brick wall, dazed. After a long moment, he swung his long hair like a stallion, his eyes wide and fierce. Then he hissed, a horrible, high-pitched sound, and bared his teeth. From between long incisors, his forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, smelling me.

  I took a step back. The man—if that was what he was—let out another hiss and turned and ran down the side street, his black coat billowing behind him. As I watched him go, my heart thumped like a drum.

  CHAPTER

  35

  The only bodyguard outside Grandpa’s hospital room when I got there was John, and he looked exhausted. I forced a smile as I approached him. He didn’t return it.

  “Hey,” I said. “Everything OK?”

  He crossed his thick arms and glowered at me. “You can fire me, but I’m not leaving.”

  I blinked. “Why would I fire you?”

  “Save it,” he said, loud enough that the nurses at the central station looked up. He stood up, and I backed up a few steps. “You want it all so bad you just leave him unprotected—fire everyone—with those special-ops guys running wild?”

  “John!” the head nurse called. “Keep it down please!”

  He actually looked sheepish, but my anger exploded. “You honestly think I want him dead? I didn’t fire anyone today—especially not you—so back off!”

  He looked confused and a bit taken aback. “Well someone did. I got let go this morning.”

  I let out my breath, releasing some of my anger. “Where’s Barrymore? I need to straighten this out.”

  John shrugged. “I don’t know. He got fired, too.”

  I put my hands to my face. “Damn it!” When I opened my eyes, John was looking at me.

  “You really had nothing to do with this, did you?”

  “Indirectly maybe.” Walter was moving fast, eliminating all the obstacles. It was an act of desperation, as Mr. Müller had warned me—which made it scarier.

  “Look, John, consider yourself unfired. You’ll get all your pay plus overtime, even if I have to take it from my piggy bank. Please stay—and don’t let Walter Roacks near him.”

  His expression softened. “I already told you, I’m not going anywhere … but if you plan to pay me, you’d better make it quick. I have a mortgage payment due and the wife’s already pissed.”

  The door to Grandpa’s room was only half-open when Lin attacked me. Seeing a hand come at my face, I ducked—right as a knife came up at me. I jerked sideways, grabbed her wrist, and twisted it around so that the blade of the knife brushed her throat. Our eyes were inches apart.

  “Junya,” Lin whispered, “I didn’t know it was you.”

  I let go. “A little paranoid, aren’t you?”

  “I’m scared.”

  I walked toward the bed. Grandpa was pale, his eyes sunk deep into the sockets.

  “T
hey say he’s stable, but … I feel him slipping away.”

  I turned to find tears running down Lin’s cheeks and I fought a wave of shame. Ms. Lin had been my personal porn star since I hit puberty. Now I knew her as a friend, and I began to understand all the things she’d given up, or had had taken from her.

  “Lin …”

  She grabbed me and buried her face in my neck. Her sobbing made her whole body shake, and for the first time in days I let my own emotions go. My tears began to drop onto her hair. The only sounds were our sobbing, the hum of the machines, and Grandpa’s breath going in and out.

  Lin finally let me go and I wiped my face with my sleeve.

  “I’ll go get us some tea,” she said.

  I waited until the door closed behind her and sat on the edge of the bed. I felt exhausted, overwhelmed as I took his cold hand in mine. I couldn’t feel anything from him, no energy at all. I closed my eyes and tried to focus, but I grew colder and felt myself begin to drift.

  I found myself in a meadow, warm and full of life and color. A small hut, its walls glowing bright in the sun, sat at the far edge against a backdrop of lush vegetation. A warm breeze touched my face and dried my cheeks.

  “This is where it all began,” Grandpa said in a low voice, standing at the doorway of the hut. He turned to look at me. “I’m sorry, James, … but I can’t stay.”

  My eyes snapped open. Grandpa lay on the bed beside me. I squeezed his hand.

  “Don’t—you can’t leave me!”

  “Edward!” Lin ran toward me, two steaming cups of tea nearly falling from her hands. “No, no, no—”

  I grabbed the cups, my hands over hers to steady them.

  “He’s alive.” I kept my voice steady, hoping it would calm me as much as her. “Nothing’s changed.”

  “Then why …”

  I gently pushed her backward to a chair, took one of the cups, and knelt in front of her. “I’m sorry I scared you,” I whispered. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, but the shock was still evident on her face and in her shaking hands. I moved into the chair beside her and we sat in silence, lost in thought.

  After a while I turned to her. “You’re pretty good with a knife. Lucky it wasn’t the nurse.”

  She sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. “I knew your mom when I was a little girl, did you know that?”

  I shook my head.

  “She helped inspire me to follow my own path, in a way.” She took a sip of tea. “But no one told me what she was until later.”

  “So you know she’s a Gatekeeper?”

  She nodded.

  “Does Grandpa know?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I studied her face. “I guess being on Grandpa’s flight that day was no accident.”

  She nodded. “I was sent to assist another who grows older.” Then she laughed. “And we all knew he’d fall for my bait.”

  I laughed. “Who doesn’t?” Then my mouth dropped open. “Wait! Are you telling me Mr. Sugimoto is a ninja, too?”

  “Gardeners have been the disguise for ninja bodyguards since the Edo period.”

  I tried to absorb that. “Why’d they send a kunoichi this time?”

  She frowned. “I consider kunoichi to be a rather insulting term.”

  I cringed. “Sorry.”

  She took a sip of tea. “They wanted someone close to him, to his business.” She shrugged. “They didn’t ask me to seduce him—becoming his executive assistant was enough … but he was so lonely and it did make things easier.”

  I smiled. “You know you’re not fooling me, right?”

  She managed a weak smile. “I do love him.” She looked down at her lap, and neither of us spoke for a while. I was about to stand up when she cleared her throat.

  “Junya?” She was staring intently at the floor when I turned to her. “Do you … do you think he’d marry me? If I suggested it?”

  “Marry you?”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Never mind … I could never be a wife. I’m sure I couldn’t stand it.”

  “Lin.” I put my hand on her arm. “He’d be a fool to say no.”

  There was an awkward pause.

  “You know what happened today?” I finally said.

  She nodded. “Walter threatened to fire me, too, if I don’t go back to the office, but the bodyguards are gone. Sugimoto-san is guarding the house, so I stayed here. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Walter shouldn’t be a problem much longer. I started to fight back last night. He’s reacting, but he’s not thinking straight. We’re going to win.”

  “How do you figure that?” She sounded skeptical.

  I told her about the money missing from the company accounts and about the Turks and Caicos accounts.

  “When his men find out he’s broke, they won’t stick around.”

  “Damn,” she said. “I never liked him.”

  “And I had a visit from Mr. Müller this morning.”

  Her hand rose to cover her mouth. “What?”

  “Bartholomew’s supporting Walter, or at least he was. Now he’s offered to return everything to normal, except he’d prefer that Grandpa isn’t around.” I decided not to mention the map just yet.

  She looked horrified.

  “I don’t know what to do about Bartholomew right now, but I know I can save the company from Walter. Will you help me?”

  She sat up straighter. “What do you want me to do?”

  I pulled her out of the chair and headed for the door, but before we could get there, there was a tap and Mr. Barrymore peered in. He looked embarrassed when he saw us.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. I thought I’d check in on him before I left.”

  “There’s no change,” Lin said.

  He nodded.

  “Let’s go talk in the meeting room down the hall,” I said to him.

  Mr. Barrymore didn’t move. “If the Chairman’s still unconscious, then there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Please come,” I said as I pushed past him.

  I took the seat at the head of the table and waited. Lin strode in a moment later, her heels clicking, and sat down and opened a notebook in front of her.

  “He’ll come,” she said.

  Mr. Barrymore walked in a few minutes later. He stood against the wall opposite me with his arms crossed.

  I leaned back in the chair. “I’m not going to let this happen.”

  “It already has. No one’s going to stick around, not even John,” Mr. Barrymore said.

  “Not even you?”

  “Damn it, James, I’ve been fired! I know when to give up.”

  Lin clicked her pen. “I never thought of you as a man who’d give up so easily, Maurice.” She turned back to me. “Where do we start?”

  “First of all, Barrymore, you’re rehired, and ‘no’ isn’t an option. Second, rehire everyone.”

  “But—”

  “Lin,” I said, “I know this isn’t your area, but can you do payroll?”

  She smiled. “Of course. We need to get paychecks out … but where’s the money coming from if Walter cleaned us out?”

  I slid her a piece of paper with an account number on it.

  She pulled a laptop out of her bag and flipped it open. “I’ll get started.”

  “Good.” I looked up at Mr. Barrymore. “Did you start that audit we talked about?”

  He nodded. “It was the first thing I did this morning, before I got fired—ex-IRS auditors.” He adjusted his jacket and stood up straighter. “Started their own business a few years back. They’re working from their office, nothing official, as you wanted.” He paused. “I forgot to tell them I was fired.”

  “They’ll never even notice.”

  He looked thoughtful. “I wasn’t able to take Walter’s computer access away, though. The IT department won’t do it without an order from the Chairman—”

  “Screw them!” I shouted. “Take
him offline now!”

  “I can do it,” Lin said, her fingers tapping the keyboard. “I have Edward’s codes. No one can override them.”

  I leveled my gaze at Mr. Barrymore, who was studying me with interest. “I want a full team here in an hour,” I said. “Then you go and escort Walter out of the office.”

  He glanced at Lin. “You can pay my guys?”

  She tapped a few keys and looked up. “Auto deposits just went out.” She looked at me. “And Walter’s account is locked. What’s next?”

  “You call and speak to the people in charge of every department of our company—top people, the ones who report directly to Grandpa. Tell them that any orders they’ve received from Walter since my birthday are canceled.” I paused, trying to remember how far back that was. “Any layoffs, any accounting changes, anything Walter told them to do is to be reversed.” I looked her in the eye. “Will they listen to you?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, they’ll listen.”

  I nodded. “Transfer cash from that account to any of them that need it to stay afloat.”

  “What about the Bayview Project? We’re in default.”

  I sighed. “I don’t know what to do about that.” I ran a hand over my face. “When are Mark and my dad due back?”

  “Not until tomorrow at the earliest. The papers aren’t even signed yet.”

  “Well, after what Mr. Müller said, I don’t think we should bother with the Bayview right now.”

  Mr. Barrymore hadn’t moved yet. He was standing there, watching us.

  “Are you with me, Mr. Barrymore?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, then what are you waiting for? Get on it!”

  CHAPTER

  36

  I met Mack later that afternoon at a coffee house not far from his place, a funky little joint with an eclectic mix of mismatched tables and chairs and old sofas. They had wraps and salads, the usual espresso, and a few treats under the glass. Their pumpkin pie was the best I’d ever tasted.