Isobel said, “Yes. That will never happen.”
A moment of awkward silence followed. Isobel had yet to fully digest what was going on, yet at the same time, she understood Walter actually encouraged moments like these. That whole character revelation thing, she remembered. Walter tried to gauge Leonard’s state of mind. He seemed unfazed by the absence of conversation. Walter noticed he hadn’t changed his clothes for a while. His boots were soiled and Leonard Martin gave off a scent Walter immediately recognized as country, rural, backwoods. No airplane ride was sufficient to hide this. This guy hadn’t gone back to New Mexico, had he?
Leonard asked Isobel, “You haven’t spoken to anybody today, have you?”
Isobel said, “No. I mean, who do y-you mean?”
“Check your messages. You have a call to return.”
“This is not a good place to talk,” Walter said. “Why don’t we go to my house.”
“I’m expecting a car here.”
“You won’t need one. Really, you won’t. If you need to go somewhere afterward, I can have you driven, wherever. Or, if you haven’t made arrangements, I have room. You can stay at my place.”
“Thank you,” Leonard said. “That’s very considerate, but I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” said Walter. “Are you ready to go?”
Walter looked to Isobel. She answered his question with obvious uncertainty. “Sure,” she said. “I’m ready to go.” Walter left some money on the bar and the three of them walked out. As they passed Ike, Leonard stopped and said, “Please tell your grandson I won’t need that car after all. And give him this for any trouble I’ve caused.”
“That’s not called for,” said Ike, refusing the money, “but I’ll let him know.”
When they were gone, Billy yelled to Ike, “What the hell was that all about?”
“Don’t know,” Ike said, puffing like a locomotive running full steam ahead uphill. “Don’t know. But I seen that guy somewhere, I think-don’t remember, exactly. But something about him. I seen him, I think.”
Unlike Tom Maloney, Leonard Martin did not seem to notice the beauty of St. John or the darkening sea below and beyond the mountain road. The setting sun, the clouds floating over St. Thomas, the sailboats leaving their sunlit silver wakes-they held no interest for him. He was oblivious to the condition of the roads and didn’t bother to look when they passed a herd of noisy goats struggling to climb one of the hills. He sat in the back seat, alone and quiet. Walter thought he might have dozed off. He looked in the rearview mirror. Leonard had the brim of his hat pulled down, covering most of his face. Perhaps his eyes were closed. “If I had a gun,” thought Walter, “I could kill him right here.”
Even a man who’s lost his sense of natural beauty could not resist the view from the patio of Walter’s house. Leonard Martin was no exception. He stood, pressed against the railing, overlooking the steep mountainside and the sea. Walter seriously wondered what such a man could be thinking. He could make no guesses. Finally, Leonard turned to the covered table where both Walter and Isobel sat, took a chair, and accepted a glass of lemonade from Clara.
“This morning,” Leonard began.
“I know,” said Walter. “We know. We saw it on CNN earlier this afternoon.”
“I hope that doesn’t make this too uncomfortable.”
“This whole thing is a little creepy, is it not?” said Isobel.
“It is a bit. I don’t know,” said Walter. “A black man shot to death in Mississippi on Martin Luther King’s birthday.” A statement or a question-Walter’s words hung in the humid air.
“Judged by the content of his character,” Leonard said.
Walter went on. “That you could kill a man in Mississippi in the morning and by evening be a thousand miles away, on a tiny island, sitting in the very same chair he once sat in.” Leonard Martin showed no reaction. “What would you call that?” Walter asked.
“Serendipity?” said Leonard. “I can change seats, if you want.”
Isobel’s curiosity was near the bursting point. She said nothing, but inside her head she was screaming, “My God! What are we doing here?” Leonard tried to look completely at ease, but Isobel saw the movement of his upper lip, the increased respiration, and the occasional darting of his eyes. Walter had taught her well. His hat was off and the close cut of his hair no longer obscured his features. Looking closely-real closely-you could see it was him. From the corner of one eye she saw Walter, as calm as if he had been relaxing on the beach. His gaze was fixed on the other man, the one who used to be fat and blonde, the one who used to be a successful real estate lawyer, the one who used to be a husband and a father and a grandfather, the one who was now a killer.
“Isobel, I would really like you to check your messages and return that call while I talk to Walter. Please?”
“Sure,” she said, getting up and walking into the house, closing the glass sliding doors behind her.
“I have a message for your employers,” Leonard said when he and Walter were alone.
“Best I can figure, there’s only two of them left.”
“Yes, that’s quite correct. And it’s possible they may stay alive, die of natural causes in their old age.” He reached down and picked up an attache case he’d carried with him to the patio. Walter could not help remembering Wesley Pitts doing the same thing, reaching for his money-laden, million dollar case, in exactly the same place. His better judgment told him to keep such a remembrance to himself. Meanwhile, Leonard removed a file folder, stuffed with papers, and placed it on the table. “Stein and Maloney,” he said, “will each make a contribution to a named nonprofit foundation with which I am completely unconnected in any discernable way, and that will allow them to live. Additionally, the companies of Stein, Gelb, Hector amp; Wills, SHI Inc., which used to be known as Second Houston Holding, and Alliance Industries Inc. will make similar contributions. I realize that Christopher Hopman, Billy MacNeal, and Pat Grath are already dead, and I acknowledge that those now running these companies share none of their culpability. The current senior officers and directors of those companies, however, still maintain and benefit from the proceeds derived from the sale and effective combination of the two companies. Therefore, they are to make contributions equal to the amounts of money they made in, and as a result of, the IPO of Second Houston, just as Stein, Gelb will and just as Stein and Maloney individually will. Failure of these executives and directors to comply with this requirement will have the effect of making them accessories after the fact. I make no immediate threats against them, but they hold the fate of Nathan Stein and Tom Maloney in their hands. Their failure to respond according to my instructions, even if Stein and Maloney comply, will result in the deaths of both men. What happens afterward is yet to be determined.” He picked up the folder from the table, took a long drink of his lemonade, and looked at Walter. Walter looked back at Leonard Martin in amazement. Leonard Martin may be the most dangerous person he’d ever known. But he just changed the rules. Killing him was out of the question, totally unnecessary. The pressure on Walter had been relieved. He had nothing to say, and so said only, “After the fact?”
“You’ll find the amounts for each contributor spelled out on the cover sheet, and the basis for them in the documents in this folder, which I’ll leave with you. This will give all concerned the specific details as to how these amounts have been arrived at. These numbers are nonnegotiable. No one at the foundation, or anywhere else, will be authorized to make changes. I appreciate that this amount of money has implications that go well beyond the contributors. I have no desire to see the ramifications damage innocent people. Believe it or not, I grieve for the families of those I’ve killed. I do. Specific terms of payment-when, where, and how-will be worked out later, but it will be necessary for one half of one percent to be donated, in cash, within thirty days, and another one half of one percent within ninety days. After that, arrangements can be made with the foundation for delivery of the remaining funds. There will be a time limit. We’re talking about a large sum of money. Assets will have to be divested. I understand that. Nevertheless, half of the total must be delivered within three years. The rest of the money must be in the possession of the foundation within one additional year. If, at that time-four years from now-if the full amount has not been paid, the agreement will be deemed to have been broken. Nathan Stein and Tom Maloney, and possibly others whose bad faith in this matter may make them responsible, will die. These payment requirements are also stipulated in the cover letter. Finally, it’s important that all contributors know that any attempt to shift assets to a wife, a relative, an offshore subsidiary, for example, or to any entity, will be viewed as an attempt to avoid payment. Assure them that I will know if they try to bury it in their backyard or stuff a safe-deposit box in Malta. I will know and I will consider the arrangement broken. I will act accordingly.” He paused and looked very carefully at Walter. “Any questions about what I’ve said?”