The suite was small — anteroom, two offices, supply and copy room — and designed to reflect businesslike competence. Muted colors, minimum of furnishings and decoration, no frills of any kind. The anteroom was empty except for the attractive young secretary, Janet Yee, seated at her desk. The door to Rakubian’s office was closed; the other office door stood partway open, giving Hollis a glimpse of hawk-faced Valerie Burke at her desk as he came forward.
The Chinese woman’s professional smile froze when she recognized him, then melted into an uneasy frown. “Oh,” she said. “Mr., um, Hollis.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to make another scene. I need to see Mr. Rakubian if he’s in.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, his calendar is full this morning—”
“If he’s in, please tell him I’m here and that it’s important I talk to him. Very important.”
“More accusations and threats, Mr. Hollis?”
He turned his head. The paralegal was standing now in the doorway to her office — a thin, homely brunette in a mannish suit, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses radiating disapproval.
“On the contrary,” he said. “What I have to say this time is something he’ll want to hear.”
“And that is?”
“Between him and me.” He looked at the secretary again. “Ms. Yee?”
She glanced at Valerie Burke, as if for confirmation, and picked up her phone and punched a button. “Mr. Jack Hollis to see you, sir. He says it’s very important.” Pause. “No, sir, Mrs. Rakubian isn’t with him.”
Mrs. Rakubian. Just the sound of it grated on Hollis.
“No, sir, he’s not.” Pause. “Yes, sir.” Ms. Yee put down the phone and said stiffly to Hollis, “Mr. Rakubian will see you. Go right in, please.”
The two women watched him cross the room; he could feel their eyes on his back. He didn’t blame them for their mistrust, after the fit he’d pitched on his last visit. If Rakubian had told them anything about the situation, it had been distorted to make himself out to be the injured party, Hollis the obstacle in the path of a reconciliation.
He opened the door marked Private without knocking, went in, and closed it behind him.
Rakubian’s office was almost as large as the anteroom, just as functional but with his dark stamp on it. One wall covered with law books, bank of windows providing an oblique view of the Ferry Building and the bay in the distance, a replica of one of Goya’s “black” paintings on another wall. And on a pedestal, squatting atop the helmeted head of the Greek goddess Pallas Athena, a foot-high black raven. It was a wonder he hadn’t hung a sign around the raven’s neck reading “Nevermore!”
Rakubian stood behind his dark mahogany desk, stiff and straight, no discernible expression on his olive-toned face. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he gave the impression of height, of looking down on everyone and everything out of eyes as black as charred wood. His hair and brows were also black, as thick and wiry as animal fur. Square chin, aquiline nose, white smile when he felt like turning it on. Women found him handsome, but if you worked at penetrating the surface you could see what lay beneath, squirming and crawling like maggots. One long look at him standing there and Hollis felt the hate rise; he could taste it in the back of his throat, hot and metallic.
“Why are you here, Hollis?” No preamble, no pretense. The deep voice was neutral except for the undercurrent of contempt that was always there, that had been there from the first moment they’d met. Homo superior talking down to homo inferior. “We have nothing more to say to each other.”
“I wish that was true, but it’s not. I came here to tell you you’re going to get what you want.”
“Yes?”
“Angela’s given in. You wore her down to the point where she feels she has no other choice.”
Nothing changed in Rakubian’s expression or demeanor. He was not surprised or pleased or relieved because he’d expected nothing less, sooner or later. He said, “Then why didn’t she come with you? Or alone or with Kenneth?”
“She’s not ready yet.”
“Meaning you’re not ready to permit it?”
“She makes her own decisions,” Hollis said. “I think it’s a big mistake. I tried to talk her out of it, but she won’t listen to me anymore. But there are conditions before she’ll reconcile with you. Her conditions, not mine.”
“And they are?”
“A meeting with you first — not alone, with me present. To settle some things to her satisfaction. The main one is that you agree never to lay a hand on her again for any reason. Put it in writing, signed and witnessed.”
“A document like that is not legally binding.”
“She knows that and so do I. Are you willing to sign one anyway?”
“I’ve never mistreated Angela,” Rakubian said. “Discipline is not mistreatment.”
Hollis held his hands flat against his thighs to keep them from fisting. “Either you agree to no more physical discipline, in writing, or she won’t give you another chance. I won’t let her give you another chance. If your answer is no, say so right now and I’ll walk out of here.
“You’ve made your point, Hollis.”
“You’ll sign the agreement? Live up to it?”
Rakubian shrugged. As if he found the notion ridiculous and of no particular import one way or the other. “I love Angela. I would do anything for her.”
“As long as she does exactly what you want.”
“I don’t understand your meaning.”
“The park the other night. Remember what you said to her?”
“Not offhand, no.”
“You threatened her. And my grandson. You said you’d kill them both rather than give her up.”
“A man says things in the heat of passion he doesn’t always mean.”
“What about doing things in the heat of passion?”
“I would never harm my wife or her son.”
“Under any circumstances?”
“Angela is my life, I love Kenneth as if he were my own. What do you think I am, Hollis?”
A fucking monster.
“She wants your promise, also in writing, never to threaten her or Kenny or anyone else in our family again.”
A sigh this time. “Is that all?”
“Yes, except that if you violate the agreement in any way, she’ll leave you immediately and you’ll never see her again. Guaranteed.”
Rakubian came out from behind his desk, went to stand at one of the windows looking out. He had a feline way of moving, sinuous and gliding, like a predator on the stalk for prey. Watching him, Hollis tasted his hate again.
Close to a minute passed before Rakubian swung around to face him. As if there had been no gap in the conversation he said, “In return I demand a signed document from you that you will leave Angela and me alone from now on. No interference of any sort in our relationship.”
Hollis pretended to think this over. “All right, if that’s what it takes to get you to treat my daughter like a human being instead of a possession.”
“A gross exaggeration, whether you believe it or not. I have never thought of Angela as a possession. I respect her feelings and her intelligence.”
Bullshit. The only intelligence you respect is your own; the only feelings you care about are the ones you have for yourself.
“Settled, then? You’ll meet with us?”
“Yes, but I want to speak to Angela first. Privately.”
“Why?”
“To hear her tell me herself she has come to her senses. She can call me here or at home tonight—”