Sacred (Kenzie & Gennaro 3)

His upper lip was speckled with sweat and his tight jowls had begun to sag. He said, “You’re trespassing.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s the best you can come up with? Okay, Danny.”

I got off the desk. He leaned back in his chair, pushing its wheels back from me, but I turned away from him and headed for the door. I looked back at him. “In five minutes when I call Trevor Stone to tell him that his lawyer is fucking his daughter, should I give him a message on your behalf?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t? I got pictures, Danny.”

You gotta love the bluffs that work.

Daniel Griffin held up a hand and swallowed several times. He stood up so quickly the chair spun away from him, and then he placed his hands on his desk for a moment, sucked oxygen from the air.

“You work for Trevor?” he said.

“Used to,” I said. “Not anymore. But I still have his number.”

“Are you,” he said, his voice rising, “loyal to him?”

“You’re not,” I said with a chuckle.

“Are you?”

I shook my head. “I don’t like him and I don’t like his daughter, and as far as I know both of them might want me dead by six o’clock tonight.”

He nodded. “They’re dangerous people.”

“Yeah, Danny? Tell me something I don’t know. What are you supposed to do for Desiree?”

“I…” He shook his head and walked to a small fridge in the corner. He bent by it, and I drew my gun, released the safety.

But all he pulled out was a bottle of Evian. He guzzled half of it, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes widened when he saw the gun. I shrugged.

“He’s a mean, evil man and he’s going to die,” he said. “I have to think of the future. I have to think of who’s going to handle his money when he’s gone. Who’s going to control the purse, if you will.”

“Big purse,” I said.

“Yes. One billion, one hundred and seventy-five million dollars at last count.”

The figure rocked me a bit. There’s the kind of money you can envision filling a truck or a bank vault. And then there’s the kind of money that is too big for either.

“That’s not a purse,” I said. “That’s a gross national product.”

He nodded. “And it has to go somewhere when he dies.”

“Jesus,” I said. “You’re going to alter his will.”

His eyes dropped from mine and he stared out the window.

“Or you’ve altered it already,” I said. “He changed his will after the attempt on his life, didn’t he?”

He stared out at State Street and the back of City Hall Plaza and nodded.

“He cut Desiree out of it?”

Another nod.

“Who’s the money go to now?”

Nothing.

“Daniel,” I said. “Who’s the money go to now?”

He waved his hand. “A variety of interests—university endowments, libraries, medical research, things like that.”

“Bullshit. He’s not that nice.”

“Ninety-two percent of it goes into a private trust in his name. I have power of attorney to release from that trust a certain percentage of interest earned each year to the aforementioned medical research companies. The rest remains in the trust and accrues.”

“What medical research companies?”

He turned from the window. “Those specializing in cryogenic research.”

I almost laughed. “The crazy bastard is going to freeze himself?”

He nodded. “Until there’s a cure for his cancer. And when he wakes, he’ll still be one of the richest men in the world because the interest on his money alone will keep him current with inflation into the year 3000.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “If he’s dead or frozen or whatever, how’s he keep an eye on his money?”

“How does he keep me or my successors from stealing it?”

“Yes.”

“Private accounting firm.”

I leaned against the wall for a moment, took it all in. “But, that private accounting firm only kicks into action once he’s dead or frozen. Right?”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

“And when does he intend to deep-freeze?”

“Tomorrow.”

I laughed. It was so blatantly absurd.

“Don’t laugh. He’s crazy. He’s not to be taken lightly, though. I don’t believe in cryogenics. But what if I’m wrong and he’s right, Mr. Kenzie? He’ll dance on our graves.”

“Not if you change the will,” I said. “That’s the one loophole in his plan, isn’t it? Even if he checks the will before he climbs in his cooler or whatever the hell it is, you can still change or replace it with another, can’t you?”

He sucked from the Evian bottle. “It’s delicate, but possible.”

“Brilliant. Where’s Desiree now?”

“I have no idea.”

“Okay. Grab your coat.”

“What?”

“You’re coming with me, Daniel.”

“I’m doing no such thing. I have meetings. I have—”

“I have several bullets in my gun and they’re calling their own meeting. Know what I mean?”

37

We hailed a cab on State Street and rode against the morning rush hour traffic down into Dorchester.

“How long have you worked for Trevor?” I said.

“Since 1970.”

“More than a quarter of a century,” I said.

He nodded.

“But you sold that out in a few hours last night for a touch of his daughter’s flesh.”

He reached down and straightened the crease in his trousers until the cuff of his pants settled just so on his gleaming shoes.

“Trevor Stone,” he said and cleared his throat, “is a monster. He treats people like commodities. Worse than commodities. He buys, sells, and trades them, dumps them in the garbage when they’re no longer of use to him. His daughter, I admit, I long thought to be his opposite. The first time we made love—”

“When was this?”

He straightened his tie. “Seven years ago.”

“When she was sixteen.”

He looked out at the gridlocked traffic on the other side of the expressway. “I thought she was a gift from heaven. A flawless, kind, caring beauty who would become everything her father wasn’t. But as time wore on, I saw that she was acting. That’s what she is, a better actor than her father. But no different. So, being an old man, and having lost my innocence a long time ago, I realigned my perspective on the situation and took what I could from it. She uses me, and I use her, and both of us pray for the demise of Trevor Stone.” He smiled at me. “She may be no better than her father, but she’s prettier and much more fun in bed.”