“No,” Wilson said. Then, with feigned surprise, he asked, “Do you?”
Zemke trained his eyes on him like a hawk ready to snatch its prey, but Wilson didn’t flinch.
“Be careful, Mr. Fielder. Seems your family has chosen a dangerous business,” he said as he turned and walked away.
Wilson watched Zemke stroll to his car, troubled by what an intensified investigation might bring. When he went back inside the house, his mother was in tears. Rachel, Darrin, and Savoy were standing next to her in the foyer hallway. “What’s wrong,” he cried.
“She just received a threatening phone call,” Rachel said, her voice trembling with fear and anger.
“Do we have any idea who it was?” Wilson asked, putting his arms around his mother while looking at Savoy.
His mother shook her head. “No. Just a man’s voice.”
“My team initiated a trace, but the signal was bouncing. These guys are professionals and very serious,” Savoy said.
“What did he say?” Wilson asked.
“He said you were putting the family in danger. They want you to stop asking questions and stop helping the police. He said if you ignore his warning, our family will pay the consequences,” his mother said before bursting into tears.
Wilson could see the terror in her eyes. He wrapped her in his arms again, attempting to console her. But inside his anger was raging, as fifty-two avenues of retaliation flew through his head.
“I think we should call the police right now,” Rachel said, feeling powerless.
“No,” her mother said, emphatically. “Let Wilson do what he’s planned.”
Wilson continued comforting his mother for several minutes before excusing himself. He went to the library. Emily needed to come to Boston as soon as possible. He picked up the phone. The scrambler was attached but not turned on.
After two rings, Emily answered, “Wilson?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Finally. I’ve been worried sick. How’s your father?”
Wilson gave her a brief description of his father’s condition. Then, after telling her to hang on a minute, he turned on the scrambler and said, “Don’t say a word. The phones are bugged. I just turned on a scrambler at my end so they can hear you but not me.”
For the next three minutes he told her about the surveillance, Daniel Redd, Hap Greene, and everything that had happened in the past few days, including the threat to his mother. He also told her about his plan to make the surveillance crowd think they were afraid and distancing themselves from his father’s business affairs. When he finished, he turned the scrambler off again.
“I’m back. Sorry. My mother’s not in very good shape. She received a threatening phone call a few minutes ago from the people who shot my father. They think I’m a threat, which is ridiculous. All I want to do is sell Fielder amp; Company and give my father the best medical care we can find. You and I have a lot to talk about. How soon can you come to Boston? I’d come to you, but there’s too much going on here for me to leave right now.”
Emily remained silent in utter disbelief, but she immediately understood Wilson’s dilemma. She wanted nothing more than to be with him.
“I’ve been so foolish, Em.”
“Oh God, Wilson. We’ve both been foolish.”
“I miss you. More than you know. ”
“You have no idea,” she said before promising to be on an airplane the day after tomorrow, once she’d turned her patients over to colleagues and wrapped up a few other loose ends.
As they hung up, he vowed to never again cause their separation.
15
Wilson — Boston, MA
Wilson stepped into the newly renovated lobby of the Harry Wilson Fielder Building, located on the Charles River in Boston’s Back Bay near Copley Square. His great-grandfather had built the ten-story edifice in 1921. Two security guards approached-not the usual uniformed types, more like undercover agents-quickly recognizing Wilson and escorting him to the elevators. One of them pushed the button to the executive offices on the top floor, while asking Wilson about his father. Wilson responded with a brief update.
Once inside the elevator riding up to his father’s office, he felt strange knowing that the office would be empty. When Wilson got off on the tenth floor he was greeted by another security officer, who seemed to expect him. The guard asked if he needed help finding anything.
“No, thank you,” Wilson answered, heading toward his father’s office. The most secretive consulting firm in America, Wilson said to himself, repeating words from a recent edition of The Wall Street Journal. The article stated that his father was considered by many to be one of the most brilliant business minds in America, having turned Fielder amp; Company into a highly influential corporate priesthood, with offices in Boston, Chicago, Dallas, San Francisco, London, and Hong Kong. But now there were only clouds of doubt and suspicion hovering over his father’s firm and legacy.
He walked through a maze of corridors lined with contemporary art to his father’s office and was surprised to see so many staffers and consultants working at their desks after hours. Luckily, Anne Cartwright, his father’s senior administrative assistant, was sitting at her desk outside his father’s office. She stood up to greet him.
“I’m glad you’re here, Anne,” Wilson said.
“It’s nice to see you, Mr. Fielder,” she said, looking surprised. Then, softly, she asked, “How’s your mother doing? I talked to her this morning about your father, she seemed so worried.”
“She’s doing fine, all things considered,” Wilson said, feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t like the idea of putting his mother through more pain, but they had to talk, either tonight or tomorrow morning. He couldn’t wait any longer. “Thanks for asking.”
“Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Fielder?”
“Please, call me Wilson,” he said, looking around to see if anyone else could hear him. The nearest desk was empty. “I’d like to look through some of my father’s files.”
“Mr. Emerson was here today. I gave him access to all the files, just as you requested.”
“Thank you, Anne. Hopefully, his history of the company will help us dispel some of the rumors.”
Anne nodded hesitantly. “Let me show you where things are and you can help yourself.”
She obviously wasn’t used to giving such free reign to anyone other than his father. Anne was a tall, professional-looking woman in her late fifties with an expression of sadness in her eyes. Wilson let her unlock the office door, even though he had his father’s key. “How many people have keys to this office?” he asked.
“Just myself, the security company, and, of course, your father had his key.”
Wilson nodded as he followed Anne into the office. He could almost feel his father’s presence in the room. The wall of glass overlooking the Charles River, the elaborate Italian renaissance ceiling, the exposed columns of stone, the collection of unusual books and curious artifacts from around the world, it all reflected his father’s eclectic tastes.
At the far end of the sizeable office was his father’s workstation, which covered an entire wall. A variety of electronic devices and gadgetry were spread across the builtin black walnut desk. Two fax machines, a paper shredder, three computer screens, two printers, a scanner, three flat-screen TVs, stereo equipment, and four telephones. There were also a number of family pictures from their travels around the world, which brought a new wave of emotions. Wilson looked away to stay focused. A few feet in front of the workstation was a gray stone conference table, oblong and irregular in shape, surrounded by seven black leather wing chairs.
Emotions returned as Wilson remembered a time, eight months earlier, when he’d come to talk about his career at Kresge amp; Company. Secretly, Wilson had wanted his father to say, Why don’t you come to work for me? Even though he probably never would have accepted, he still wanted the invitation. But his father had never asked. He remembered wondering whether his father was waiting for him to make the overture, asking outright: I’d like to join you at Fielder amp; Company. Now, he wished he had. Maybe both of them had been too proud or too fearful of rejection. Or was my father simply trying to protect me? Mental images of his father in the hospital brought him back to the present, as Anne opened the twelve file cabinets on each side of his father’s workstation.