“About the Far Eastern Brocade line. I told you, Doug. The sales meeting…”
“Your secretary could have handled that! Why’d you make a personal call to Benjamin’s house?”
“I…I wanted to tell him personally. I thought he’d be offended if I…”
“Yeah? Go ahead.”
“I…I just thought he’d be offended, that’s all.”
King stared at Cameron silently for several moments. Then he went directly to the telephone and began dialing.
“What are you doing?” Cameron asked.
King did not answer. He stood with the phone to his ear, facing Cameron, waiting.
“The Benjamin residence,” a voice said.
“Get me Mr. Benjamin,” King said.
“Who’s calling, please?”
“Douglas King.”
“One moment, Mr. King.”
“Why are you calling him?” Cameron asked. “I told you…”
“Hello?” a voice on the other end asked.
“George?” King said sweetly. “This is Doug.”
“What is it, Doug?” Benjamin answered.
“How are you, George?”
“I’m fine. It’s a little early in the morning, isn’t it, to be exchanging—”
“George, I’ve been giving your proposition a lot of thought.” King continued staring at Cameron, who sat poised on the edge of his chair.
“Have you?” Benjamin said.
“Yes. It doesn’t sound half bad to me.”
“Oh, doesn’t it?” Benjamin said smugly. “Well, well.”
“I’m thinking I may throw in with you, George.”
“Oh, you may, hey?”
“Yes. After all, there’s more than myself to think about. There’re a lot of other people who’ve served me loyally over the years. This would mean a lot to them, too.”
“You’re such a Good Samaritan, Doug.”
“Well, I know I behaved badly yesterday, but, as I say, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Refusing your offer would simply be unfair to the people around me.”
“You should have done your thinking a little earlier, Doug,” Benjamin said triumphantly. “You should have done your thinking before this kidnaping fouled up your deal in Boston!”
King’s face changed. Studying Cameron, his mouth lengthened into a tight hard line and his eyes turned suddenly cold. “My deal in Boston?” he repeated, and Cameron stiffened.
“Yes, yes, I know all about it, so don’t get innocent with me,” Benjamin said.
“Well, that was just…”
“That was just something that happened to fall through! Well, it’s too damn bad, Mr. King, but you played your cards and you played them wrong. My offer has been withdrawn. In fact, you might start looking for another job. You’re going to need one as soon as we can call a meeting.”
“I see,” King said softly.
“I hope you do.”
“I guess I know when I’m over a barrel, George. But I hope this won’t affect your attitude toward any of the people who’ve worked closely with me. Believe me, Pete knew nothing about what I was planning. I’d hate to see him pay for my errors. He’s a good worker, George, and a bright—”
“Don’t you worry about Pete!” Benjamin said, laughing. “We’ll take care of him.”
“You’re not going to fire him, are you?”
“Fire him?” Benjamin’s laughter grew louder. “Fire him? Fire your trusted, loyal assistant? Don’t be ridiculous, Doug.” The laughter trailed off. “If you don’t mind, I’m late for the links now. Goodbye, Doug.” There was a click on the line. Slowly, King put down the phone.
“You son of a bitch,” he said to Cameron.
“Yes.”
“You told him about Boston.”
“Yes.”
“You gave him everything.”
“Yes.”
“Everything, you son of a bitch!”
“Yes, yes!” Cameron said, rising from his chair with nothing to lose now, exploding with a vengeance. “Yes, I told him everything! And now you’re going out! Out!”
“Oh, that’s what you think, sweetheart!”
“That’s what I know, sweetheart. Benjamin’s got the Old Man on his team now. You’re going out, Mr. King, and I’m going in. Me! Take a good look. Me!”
“I’m looking, you son of a bitch!”
“Look long and look hard! The next look you get is from the bottom of the heap!”
“I’m looking! I’m looking, you miserable…”
“No more miserable than you, pal. I learned in your school. Did you expect me to bow and scrape forever? Did you expect Pete Cameron to be an assistant bottle washer for the rest of his life? Not me, pal. I learned. I learned fast!”
“Oh, you learned! I ought to strangle you, you bastard!”
“Why? What do you see, Doug? Yourself? Yourself ten years ago?”
“Myself ten—”
“Take another look. I’m not you ten years ago. I’m you tomorrow! Tomorrow you’re in the gutter. You’re out, and I’m in. Tomorrow!”
“Not if this Boston thing goes through!’’
“You haven’t got the guts to kill that kid!”
“Haven’t I? But you have, huh, Pete? Then why not me? We’re alike, aren’t we? The same school, no? Blood brothers, no? Both sons of bitches, no?”
He suddenly seized Cameron by the lapels of his suit and flung him across the room.
“Get out of my house!” he yelled.
“With pleasure, Mr.—”
“Get out! Get out!”
Cameron went to the closet and quickly pulled his coat from a hanger. He reached into his trousers pocket, took out King’s check, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it across the room.
“Get out!” King screamed. “Get out, get out, get out!” The door slammed on his words, and still he shouted, “Get out, get out, get out!”
* * * *
11
The boy was cold.
She had given him her overcoat, but he still complained of the cold in the drafty farmhouse. He wanted cocoa, he said, something hot to drink, but there was nothing but coffee and evaporated milk in the house, and the boy sat on the edge of the bed as the sun stained the winter sky, and he shivered visibly and contained the sobs he would not release.
The two street maps had been set up alongside the radio equipment, and the men arranged them now so that they were clearly visible and easily read. The first map was a detailed map of Isola with Smoke Rise and the King estate marked with a red circle. A red line was linked onto the streets leading from the estate, following a tortuous route crosstown and over to the Black Rock Span. Once over the bridge, the red line took to the highways that crisscrossed Sands Spit, proceeding past a spot marked with a blue star, and then continuing out to the farthest tip of the peninsula. There did not seem to be much direction to the aimless meanderings of the inked red line. It moved from Smoke Rise erratically and then swooped toward the bridge with the precision of an arrow, only to assume an erratic course again once it hit the Sands Spit highways. The red line continued to reel drunkenly until it had passed the spot marked with the blue star, after which it again straightened, rushing with direct purposefulness toward the ocean. Perhaps significantly, it steered a wide course around a dot on the map which was marked simply “Farm.”