Jeremy was calm, but uncompromising. “Sir, with all due respect your brother is a dangerous man. He would certainly have killed Mr. Bird had I not intervened. He stays in the cellar.”
His resolve did not waver when he saw Junior puff up in indignation. “I said, let my brother out of the cellar. Now, do as you are fucking told.”
Jeremy opened his mouth to answer but was preempted by the Judge. “No, Mr. Thurwell, Philip stays in the cellar. Jeremy’s right, your brother is a menace. We need to know he is no position to attack anyone else. I imagine you have called the police, Jeremy?”
Junior was stunned into silence at the mention of the police. He instantly thought of the scandal if news of Philip’s attack went public. “Now wait a minute, Freeman. No one said anything about needing the police here. We can take care of this.”
Jeremy needed to get back to William, so he interrupted. “Please, everyone. I have not called the police. Judge, my instructions for this week are that no outside contact is permitted, short of a medical emergency. Mr. Bird will be fine, he is physically unharmed, but he is in shock. Once he feels better, he can decide how to handle the matter. Until then, I suggest you wait for him to recover and accept that Philip will remain in the cellar. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should see how Mr. Bird is doing.”
He walked to the door but was stopped by Bethany’s plaintive voice. “May I see him, Jeremy? Can I see Phil? Please?”
He turned and looked at his employer’s beautiful daughter. He hated to upset her, but her request had to be denied. “I’m sorry Miss Thurwell, that’s not a good idea. Perhaps Mr. Bird will allow you to see him, but it will be his decision, not mine.”
He saw her head drop as he left in a hurry. Junior was preparing to launch another salvo and Jeremy left before he had to listen to it. The Judge could sort out the aftermath of the news, the major-domo needed to be with Bird.
$
Judge Freeman pleaded for calm. Junior was furious and paced back and forth in front of the fire with a thunderous expression on his face. He was angry with his idiot brother, but was far more upset at being defied by a servant in front of everyone. Jeremy would pay a price for that slight, Junior would make him sorry.
Bethany worried about her brother locked in the cellar and about what would happen to him if the police were called. No one else was thinking about Philip, other than reassuring themselves that if he was locked up, he couldn’t hurt them.
Winnie whispered her concern for William Bird to Larry MacLean, a conversation that was picked up by Betty and Janice. Soon most of them were demanding that the Judge do something, anything. Freeman had no choice but to call another recess. They were unable to continue without William Bird. “Everyone, please listen. I’m calling another break, the length of which is uncertain, but which will be determined by how quickly William is able to rejoin us.”
He raised his voice over their objections. “I know we have a deadline approaching. I don’t know if circumstances allow for relief from the penalty, William can tell us that when he returns. But you all know we cannot continue without him. Anything we might decide in his absence would not be binding and would be a waste of our time. I will visit William and try to estimate when we might reconvene. Until then, please just wait patiently.”
They knew what he said was true, but none of them liked it. Junior swore at the Judge, but made no attempt to argue the facts of the matter. Freddie wanted to get the situation under control as much as the Judge did. “Freeman is right. There is nothing we can do until Bill Bird returns. We might as well accept it and do what we can in the meantime. Thank you, Judge, you’ll report back to us after you’ve seen him?”
Freeman agreed, grateful for Hagood’s support. His intervention had quelled the uprising that had threatened to overtake the group. He thanked them and left to see William Bird for himself.
Camille comforted her sister as best she could, which was little. Bethany was more confused than upset. She had trouble accepting the ugly truth about her brother and her heart ached to see him. She was annoyed with those that only had thoughts about how the delay would affect their money. It was as if neither Philip nor William mattered at all, only the money. Bethany shook her head and whispered to her sister that she had to get out of there, away from the others. They left together.
The others left in search of places to wait. Junior took Caroline by the arm, and they left together. Larry offered to escort Winnie, but she declined and waited until he had gone, before heading to her room. She could not bear the thought of being cooped up with his stories for more long hours.
$
Jeremy watched the lawyer as he rested. He looked comfortable wrapped in the thick robe, but his face was haunted. The problem was in his head, not his body. Jeremy knew it could take a long time for a person to accept they had come close to death. He’d seen it before.
Accidents had a similar effect on the psyche, but almost being murdered by another man left a mark. It not only shook the soul to face imminent death, it stripped away any last vestige of preternatural pride. William had been defenseless and on his knees before his would-be killer. There was no more complete a defeat for a man to bear. When the facade of human civility was stripped away, and a man had fought for his life and lost, it left a scar on the soul. Bird was in shock from the attack and his defeat by a feral force against which he had no defense.
Jeremy heard a light tap at the door. The red-haired man opened the door wide enough for Jeremy to recognize the large frame of the Judge. He nodded and Freeman was admitted. “I was hoping you’d come up here, sir. I hope I didn’t leave things too awkward for you downstairs?”
The Judge smiled, it was rueful but genuine. “It might have been worse. How is he?” Freeman walked to the bedside and looked at Bird. The lawyer was on his back, but his eyes were closed. If he knew the Judge was there, he made no sign.
“It’s shock. He was close to being beaten to death. He needs rest. It’s all I can suggest. We gave him a sedative to keep him out of it for a few hours.” Freeman agreed with the major-domo’s assessment of the situation even as his heart sank when he heard about the drugs.
“How long do you think he’ll need?”
Jeremy shrugged. “He might be okay when he wakes up. It might take longer, perhaps days. He’ll take a while to come to terms with the attack, but he should be able to function well enough for you to finish your business.”
Freeman nodded. “I hope so, I have no idea how much patience I can expect from the others, but until our friend here is able to join us, there is nothing I can do.”
The two men moved to leave, but Jeremy noticed the lawyer’s clothes were scattered over the floor and asked the Judge to wait outside for him. He picked them up, throwing the soiled suit and other wet clothes into a laundry bag. He went through the pockets to empty them and found a small metal box in the overcoat pocket.
He placed the box on the nightstand where the lawyer would find it when he woke. The major-domo left the room and closed the door quietly behind him. He ordered the red-headed guard to admit no one without his permission and then he and the Judge headed downstairs. Freeman wanted to visit the would-be killer, and Jeremy wanted advice.
$
Philip Thurwell’s head pounded. His jaw felt as if a truck had hit it. He opened his eyes and looked around the dimly lit room. He could see hundreds of bottles arranged in neat bins through the metal grille that separated him from his father’s wine collection. He sat up and instantly regretted it as nausea washed over him. He barely avoided throwing up. He wondered what had happened, he had been about to end the scumbag lawyer and then, nothing. He remembered nothing.
Someone had hit him. The pain in his jaw had come from a punch, but he had no recollection of who had thrown it. Whoever it was, he was a tough son of a bitch. Philip had been punched before, but never so hard. Hell, he’d never been knocked out cold before.
He threw the blanket off. He still wore his outdo
or clothes and was too warm. He heard the sound of a key scraping in the lock and scrambled to his feet. He shook his head to clear it, but winced as bright light flooded in. Philip saw two back lit silhouettes enter the room. The door closed, and the gloom was restored. No one said anything and Philip waited anxiously for his eyes to re-adjust to the low light. After a few seconds, he found himself face to face with the Judge and the servant, Jeremy.
“What the fuck happened?” Philip stammered. He was nervous, aware he had no friends in his makeshift cell.
Freeman stepped closer to look at the young man. “What did you hit him with?”
Philip looked incredulously at Jeremy. He would never have guessed the quiet man was the person that saved the sack of shit lawyer. Jeremy held up his right hand. “Just this. I had no weapon. I didn’t think I would need one when I went after our friend here.”
Freeman whistled a low tone as he turned to Philip. “Son, you’re lucky he didn’t take your head off.” Philip recovered some of his bravado.
“Fuck you very much, Judge, for your concern. Now let me out of here, I’ve had enough of this place, I’m leaving.” He made a move toward the door but ran into a rock hard finger in his chest. He looked up into the Judge’s eyes and his heart quailed at the fury looking back at him.
Freeman growled. “You’re not going anywhere, son. You might have gotten away with murder under my nose once, but this time I’ll see you go to jail for trying to kill Bird.”
Philip took a step back, frightened. He had not been thinking about anything other than getting back at the lawyer when he’d left his room. He hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he’d lost his temper. “Hey, man. He’s okay, right? I never touched him, so no harm, no foul.”
Freeman shook his head. Philip couldn’t tell if it was a rejection of his plea or an indication of disgust, but it was certainly a negative reaction.
The two men turned and left. He heard the key turn and their muffled voices disappearing into the distance. The quiet of the cellar pressed in on his aching head again. He had his back to the wall and slid down it to the floor where he held his head in his hands and wept, more from frustration than remorse. Philip was in a world of trouble and, for once, he knew it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dinner was served at seven, but only Winnie Tremethick and the Thurwell sisters had chosen to eat in the dining room. The others ate in their rooms, if they could eat at all. Camille had suggested to Bethany they sit with the old woman when they saw her alone and her sister had reluctantly agreed.
Winnie had been surprised when they joined her. She had nothing to say to either girl, she thought of them both as heartless killers. She stared at them for a second and then picked up her plate and moved to another table, sitting with her back to them. The younger women had been too proud to leave the room, and now the three ate in awkward silence.
Camille stole a look at her watch. It was after seven-thirty, and there had been no word about William Bird’s condition. She was anxious. The likelihood of the group reaching a consensus before midnight lessened with each passing minute. She shook her head. Another twenty per cent of the fortune could be lost because Philip had lost his head. It was not enough he had disinherited himself, now he had messed it up for all of them.
Throughout the mansion, similar thoughts about Philip were common. Meals that would have elicited enthusiastic praise in any upscale restaurant tasted like ashes in the guest’s mouths. Those that waited in their suites cast hopeful glances at their telephones, and despairing ones at clocks, as precious minutes turned inexorably into lost hours.
$
William opened his eyes and blinked. He felt groggy and disoriented. His room was black except for faint flickers of orange from the fireplace in the other room. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see the drapes were open but that it was already dark outside. He had no idea how long he had slept, but he felt better. He checked his hands and was pleased to see they no longer shook.
He reached for the bedside lamp and turned it on. He immediately saw the metal box from the boathouse. The memory of Philip’s attack flooded back, and he slumped onto his pillow. Bird shuddered and felt cold fingers of fear tickle his spine. He closed his eyes and counted down from ten, slowly, until the icy fingers withdrew.
He looked to see what time it was, but his watch was gone. It wasn’t on the dresser, and he did not recall taking it off when he showered. He must have lost it in the snow during the struggle. He’d ask Jeremy to look for it tomorrow. You didn’t leave a Patek Philippe wristwatch in the woods, no matter the circumstances of how it arrived there.
He looked again at the box on the bedside table. Collecting it had almost killed him. He needed to know what was inside. He inspected the box closely, it was small but heavy, and the lock looked robust. He cursed when he remembered the key was still in his office safe. There was no way to open the box until he retrieved it.
William climbed out of bed and stood gingerly, fearful he would feel nauseous again, but he felt surprisingly strong and dressed quickly. His curiosity about the contents of the box proved stronger than the aftershocks of Philip’s attack. He suffered another flashback and saw Philip’s face twisted with hate as clear as it had been in the woods, but mercifully it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. He shuddered, tied his shoes and looked at the door. He remembered his promise to Jeremy to call before he left his room. The major-domo had saved his life and, therefore, despite his curiosity and excitement, he lifted the phone.
Jeremy knocked on his door a few minutes later, and Bird was extremely happy to see him. They shook hands before Bird threw aside his usual reserve and gave the man an expansive hug.
“I see you’re feeling better, sir. Do you intend to call the group together?”
William shook his head and picked up the small box from the bedside table. “No, I have to open this and do some work before I can get them together again. What time is it?”
“It’s almost ten ‘o’clock, sir. Are you sure you’re feeling alright? I gave you a sedative, and you might feel a bit woolly for a while.”
William was shocked when he learned the time, he had been out far longer than he suspected. The group would be frantic at the thought of the looming midnight deadline. “I can’t afford to lose more time, I’m sure the others will be keen to meet as soon as possible. I have to get to my office, but it would be better if they didn’t see me, I don’t need a fuss right now.”
Jeremy nodded and told the lawyer that everyone was waiting for the call to reconvene. He also mentioned he had fielded many angry calls as the hour grew later. William pulled on his suit coat, and Jeremy led him down to his office. As promised, they were unobserved, and William thanked and dismissed the major-domo at his office door.
Bird placed the box on his desk and retrieved his instructions and the small silver key from the safe. He read the hand-written note again and looked at the box. It was time to find out what he had nearly died for. Bird inserted the key and heard a gentle click as the lock released. He lifted the hinged lid to reveal a smaller wooden box and an envelope. Both were wrapped in sealed plastic to protect them from the elements in case the integrity of the outer metal box failed.
William used his letter opener to split the plastic and took out the two items. The envelope was secured with a wax seal that bore Johnston Thurwell’s crest. William inspected it and found it to be intact. It was addressed To Winnie, and William knew she should be the one to break the seal. He turned his attention to the box. It was small and square, a wooden work of art with an inlaid pattern on the lid. The delicate hinge and front catch looked like they were gold. He did not open it. He knew that what was inside was not for his eyes.
Bird opened his laptop and waited for it to boot. He scanned the instructions from the yellow envelope once more to ensure he had interpreted them correctly. He reached under his desk and scrabbled with his fingertips to find the Ethernet cable hidden there. He plugged it in
to his laptop and waited for it to establish an Internet connection. The wireless network in the mansion was state of the art, but had been disabled to control his guests’ contact with the outside world.
William logged into the Zurich bank account and with a few clicks instructed them to transfer forty million dollars to Winnie Tremethick’s account. He paused and looked at the account assigned to Philip Thurwell. With a grim smile, he removed the twenty-five dollars he had used to open Philip’s account and added it to the old lady’s money.
He clicked the confirm button and waited. Exactly one minute later his private telephone rang. He picked it up and gave the bank his confirmation code. It was after 4 a.m. in Zurich, but there was always someone on duty to handle the requirements of the super rich. Bird closed the computer and returned the envelope and the metal box back to the safe. He picked up the letter and wooden box and called Jeremy. He needed an escort again.
$
Jeremy took Bird from his office to Winnie Tremethick’s room. They saw no sign of another soul in the mansion, for which William was thankful. He knocked on the old lady’s door and was surprised when Larry MacLean opened it. There was an awkward moment as the two men looked at each other, then MacLean broke into a wide smile and pumped William’s hand. “God, Bill. It’s good to see you up and about. We were all worried we wouldn’t see you for days. Are you okay? We heard what happened.”
William held up his hand to stop Larry’s verbal torrent and assured him that he was fine and would reconvene the meeting soon. Larry seemed happy to hear the news and stood in the doorway, his attention now drawn to the items in Bird’s hand. “What’s this, Bill? Do you want me to give these to Winnie?”
He reached out to take the box and letter, but William took a step back. “Thanks, Larry, but this is something I have to do. May I?”
The Philanthropist's Danse Page 27