Colin suddenly realized what was really at stake. These were bodyguards- armed bodyguards. If he made a suspicious noise they would probably shoot him first and ask questions later. The urge to giggle suddenly felt much more like an urge to throw up. Colin clenched his teeth together violently-he didn’t want to do either.
“Now, if everyone has finished demonstrating their toughness,” Stillman said, “perhaps we can talk business. Mr. Modesto, you are no longer needed-wait in my car, please. The driver is running the engine and the air-conditioning is on.”
“I won’t forget this!” Gideon shouted as Modesto scuttled out like a crab trying to get back to its tide pool.
Colin had another, even more disturbing thought. This guy Stillman is Modesto’s main buyer-he said so! He’s some kind of enemy of Gideon’s. And Modesto’s going to give the piece of eggshell to Stillman. His insides felt cold and heavy. What had he done? And more important, what would happen if Gideon found out? At the very least, Colin and his mother would be thrown off the farm forever. The only thing he really cared about would be taken away from him.
“You can’t keep me here, Stillman,” Gideon snarled. “You’re scum and I don’t have anything to say to you. We’re going to walk out now and your hired thugs can’t stop us.”
Stillman smiled and shook his head. “Please, Gideon. If you won’t talk to me, I can have police and FBI agents swarming all over your farm by nightfall. You really don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“Police? That’s nonsense!”
“Try me and find out.”
A hard silence filled the room. When Gideon finally spoke, he sounded like he had been punched in the stomach. “What… what are you talking about?”
“Oh, good, I have your attention,” Stillman said. “Sit down.” Gideon sat. Ragnar returned. “Gideon, my life has changed a great deal since I saw you last. I’m sure you’ve heard that my company, Mission Software, has now gone public?”
Gideon glared at him and did not answer.
“It made me a pretty penny. More than a few pretty pennies, in fact.”
Mission Software-Ed Stillman! Colin had heard of him-the man was a billionaire. But why on earth would someone like that know anything about their farm?
“If you just wanted to brag, Stillman,” said Gideon sourly, “you could have sent a press release instead of holding us at gunpoint.”
Edward Stillman laughed. “You’re just as charming as ever. I don’t see any guns out, do you? Now, listen carefully. You and I both know that by all rights the farm should belong to me. It belongs to my family, not yours. If Octavio had been in his right mind he would have made that clear before he died.”
Colin almost fell off his box again. This was crazy! Stillman and Gideon-related?
“You’re full of crap,” spat Gideon, his face an angry red.
“You aren’t even a Tinker,” said Stillman. “You just married one. Stole one, to be more accurate. Because Grace should have been mine.”
“Don’t you dare talk about her!” Gideon’s eyes were almost popping out of his head. Ragnar put a big hand on his shoulder, to calm him or perhaps to restrain him. “Don’t you dare say a word about my wife!”
Stillman shook his head. “I’d hoped you would be more reasonable than this. You won’t make a good impression in court, you know, with spit flying out of your mouth like that.” He sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I have no urge to make friends with you, Goldring. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to get that farm. I know there’s more going on there than simply Octavio’s collection of antiques. My uncle Octavio was a brilliant, brilliant man-the world underestimated him, but I haven’t. He would have wanted me to have that farm and have access to his research.”
Gideon thrashed beneath Ragnar’s restraining grip. “Liar! You already tried to steal it from me with your blasted lawyers- but you lost! The farm is mine! You’ll never get it!”
Stillman shook his head again, like a father watching a child throw a tantrum. “Gideon, Gideon, the only reason I’m warning you is that I would prefer to keep the police and FBI out of this. I don’t want the authorities running loose on that farm any more than you do. I don’t know what’s there, but I do know I’d rather not share it with the federal government. But if I can’t get the farm any other way, I’ll let them have it before I’ll let you have it, you little thief.” And now it was Stillman who was starting to turn red beneath his deep tan. “Do you understand me? One way or another, you’re as good as gone.”
“You can’t do anything,” Gideon said. “You already lost once.”
“Oh, but I can,” said Stillman. “Because I discovered a letter that we didn’t have the last time we went to trial-a letter from Grace.” He grinned. He didn’t look quite so much like a refined billionaire now. “That’s right. You only kept that farm because the law decided Grace disappeared after old Octavio died. But now I have a letter that makes it a lot clearer what really happened.”
Gideon suddenly looked very old. “What… what are you talking about? What letter?”
“Oh, I brought you a copy.” He gestured to one of the bodyguards, who produced a manila envelope and handed it to Gideon. “She wrote to my mother a few days before she so conveniently vanished. You can see what she says, can’t you? ‘Gideon is getting more angry and desperate all the time,’ I believe she says. Also, ‘I worry that there may be violence. It frightens me. Gideon frightens me.’ Dear me, that doesn’t sound good, does it?”
“She didn’t mean violent toward her,” said Gideon weakly. “She was worried that I might lose my temper with that old… with Octavio.”
“Yes, yes, you will explain it to a jury, I’m sure. And we will all be fascinated to hear again how my sweet little cousin Grace-beautiful, kind Grace-just happened to run away on the night her grandfather died, leaving you the sole master of Octavio Tinker’s property. How touching! How dramatic! How convenient!”
Gideon shoved the copy of the letter back into its envelope. “I’ll never give you a square inch of Ordinary Farm. Nothing-not even a spoonful of dirt!”
Stillman shrugged. “I’m bored with you now, Gideon. You’re just as petty as you ever were. Don’t you realize you can’t win?” He tipped his head toward his bodyguards. “Come on, gentlemen. We have work to do-lawsuits to file, murder investigations to reopen.”
“You’re bluffing,” Gideon said. “You want the farm too much yourself to risk getting the police involved again.”
“Yes, you tell yourself that.” Stillman stopped in the doorway. “Oh, and remember this-you’ve only been surviving so far because I’ve been buying your antiques. I know your finances better than you do, and so far it’s suited me to keep the farm in business. But if I decide not to buy any more of what is clearly my own family’s legacy, and I pass the word among my collector friends, for good measure, that I caught you selling fakes, where are you going to find the money to run that place, let alone hire enough lawyers to keep me from getting it?” He laughed and walked out.
“That scum.” Colin could see Gideon’s face through the crack. He looked as though he’d been beaten up. For a moment, despite years of dislike, Colin almost felt sorry for him.
“Is he really your wife’s clansman?” asked Ragnar. He didn’t seem very sympathetic to Gideon’s position, although Colin always had trouble reading the Norseman. “You did not tell me that.”
“Why should I? What difference does it make? He’s a liar. I had nothing to do with Grace disappearing.” He looked at Ragnar and his expression hardened. “You’re not questioning that, are you? You don’t think I’d murder my wife, do you?”
“I judge no man,” Ragnar said.
“Thanks for that vote of support,” Gideon said bitterly. “Come on. We have to pick up the boy and go home.”
“We promised him ice cream.”
“I don’t give a damn,” said Gideon.
Colin crouched silently until he heard them leaving, then went to the window and watched them get into the truck, Gideon moving like a very, very old man. It was only as he watched them drive away that he realized they would probably beat him back to the coffee shop, and that Gideon’s bad mood would get worse if they had to wait for him.